Graham Kelly: Players from every age know their market value

Would you fork out a tenner to see David Beckham play head tennis at the local theatre? Given the status of the England captain's latest pay negotiations with Manchester United, with a figure of £100,000 per week not causing any noticeable apoplexy at Old Trafford, he is unlikely to be reduced to treading the boards to supplement his income.

Stan Matthews did, however. The Blackpool and England maestro toured the vaudeville halls in the summer of 1949. He said he preferred the stage act with his brother to a demanding close-season tour in view of a persistent ankle injury.

"It's a short life," claimed Stan, before going on to prove that, in his case, it was anything but. In a narrow sense, top footballers led quite cushy lives for many years. The maximum wage was above the average worker's earnings and, if they were lucky enough to avoid injury and put a bit aside, they could enjoy the perks and prestige that the game afforded them. Where the system was iniquitous was in the way the stars, the players who packed the grounds, could be tied for life to one club, to the same wage as the guy whose only ambition was to trundle round the track for a couple of training laps before disappearing behind the stand for a smoke.

One crowd-puller, who was always seeking to extract a bit extra, and whose very name always evokes the very essence of his times, was Alex James, the Scottish inside forward who won four League championship and two FA Cup medals with Arsenal in the 1930s. How I wish I'd seen him play.

When James was transferred from Preston North End in 1929, he made it pretty clear that he was seeking certain inducements. After he spent some time on the transfer list, a white knight appeared in the form of a wealthy Yorkshire wool merchant, who just happened to be a close friend of the Arsenal manager, Herbert Chapman, formerly of Leeds City and Huddersfield Town. This benefactor arranged a part-time job for James as a sports demonstrator at Selfridge's department store and so the problem was solved without the League management committee, who smelled a veritable plague of rats, being able to do a thing to prevent the novel deal.

James, in fact, was easy-come easy-go with his money. He bought a little sweet shop near Highbury, which delighted his two children, but not his wife when he confessed he had omitted to check title or obtain a receipt. He thought his name would assure his future when he retired in 1937, but, though the pools industry was taking off in a big way, James' diligence was less than due and he managed to end up with a garage full of blank coupons, having signed a promotional deal with a small firm which went bust.

James did not need an agent to make himself a complete pain to Chapman. There were some epic battles between the acknowledged jewel in Arsenal's formidable crown and the famed Chapman, the first of the truly great managers. Imagine the Ferguson relationship with Mr and Mrs Beckham at its frostiest and you have some idea of what went on in the Highbury halls before the marble was laid. Chapman did not even hold with players in a team game having the right to negotiate individually.

James refused to sign a new contract, then re-signed in front of the cameras at the last minute (for Selfridge's!), he declined to go on tour, he argued over expenses. And all the time he had access to the newspaper columns, much to the Arsenal board's discomfort. He came out and rated Chapman's successor, George Allison, as the better manager, even though he tried to offload him to Derby towards the end of his career. None of this is to imply that James was a bad team man, or to diminish him in any way. Far from it. He was a simply a man of his times who happened to have an idea of his value. It's strange how history recurs. James was only 52 when he died of cancer in 1953. Not many years later George Eastham broke the retain system by holding out for a transfer from Newcastle United. To tide him over until his move to Arsenal could be finalised, he was given a job by a wealthy Yorkshire businessman, Ernie Clay, who was later to buy Fulham.

And although I know nothing of the circumstances, it seems somewhat feudal for the Newcastle board to announce that Robert Lee's transfer request comes "too soon" after his testimonial match. This, after all, is the international who struggled to get a squad number under Ruud Gullit.

Grahamkelly@btinternet.com