The question was clever and testing but Jack Ross’s answer proved unequivocal. “Do you love football or are you actually in love with it?” asked a fellow executive at the Professional Footballers’ Association in Scotland.
Ross’s response changed his life and, four years on, has led him to a spacious, fairly minimalist office offering magnificent views over the pristine pitches of Sunderland’s training ground.
A slim, youthful 42, the former Scottish journeyman centre-half could be mistaken for a senior player but the biggest difference between Ross and his recent Wearside predecessors is that a tracksuit is far from the only uniform he is comfortable in.
It is easy to imagine Sunderland’s 12th manager in 10 often traumatic years flourishing in a non-football sphere. After all, he holds an MA in economics from Edinburgh’s Heriot-Watt University, has written a series of children’s books and, before entering coaching full-time, held senior posts with PFA Scotland and Fifpro, the world players’ union.
“I reached a big crossroads when I was offered a full-time coaching job by Hearts,” says Ross, in the course of a conversation notable for his refreshing avoidance of cliches. “I spoke to someone I respect and he asked me the ‘love football or in love with it’ question. It’s an important distinction because they’re two very different things. I told him I was at my happiest when I’m fully involved in the game. If you merely love it you’d resent the way this job dominates your life.”
Hearts was swiftly followed by an impressive stint in charge of part-time Alloa before Ross led St Mirren into Scotland’s top division last spring. That feat prefaced not only his country’s manager of the year award but the attention of Stewart Donald, Sunderland’s new owner.
The catch was that, after a decade in the Premier League, the club had fallen into English football’s third tier for only the second time in its history and upheaval beckoned. Accordingly, Ross has signed 12 players and offloaded 15, the most recent pair being Papy Djilobodji and Didier Ndong, both sacked, Sunderland said, for going awol.
“I’m confident that, however long I’m a manager, I’ll never again face the challenges I’ve had this summer,” says Ross, who barely met Djilobodji or Ndong. “This is a really, really difficult job but it’s also absolutely brilliant. It’s one I’ll never regret accepting, whatever happens.
“It’s so hard to describe just how big a club this is. It’s massive – you could drop Sunderland into any country in the world and it would still be huge. It’s hard to explain to people who haven’t been here. Then they come to a game and they say: ‘Wow, I get it.’”
Ross’s team are fourth going into Saturday’s game at Bradford but automatic promotion is the all-important aim. “It still feels a little bit like we’re playing catch-up,” concedes a manager delighted that crowds at the Stadium of Light are averaging more than 30,000. “It doesn’t feel quite right yet. Things are good but aren’t exactly how I want them; that’s because of the challenges, the uncertainties we’ve had.”
It also takes a particular type of player to flourish on Wearside. “Playing here’s demanding. The scrutiny’s pretty intense. The north-east is different. But I don’t think the intensity should faze you; you’ve got to deal with it – if you don’t, you’ll fold. I’ve always put pressure on myself but this is new to me, it’s something else. You need tough players who trust themselves and trust each other.”
Subtle leadership is required. “Today’s successful managers all have emotional intelligence,” says Ross, who seems steeped in the stuff. “Managers can’t do the things they used to but motivation by fear was always short term.”
Despite that MA, he feels considerably more emotionally than economically literate. “I sometimes have a chuckle when economists make their forecasts on the news but I don’t really remember an awful lot about the subject matter,” he says. “The degree taught me valuable lessons though, things like discipline and clarity of thought.”
It also opened the door to a PFA post offering a window into footballers’ minds. “I started with a role in sports betting,” he says. “Then I branched out into communications and mental health. Players have the same insecurities and anxieties as everyone else. They just live their lives in a very public, highly scrutinised sphere. Management’s about getting the best out of people. If they see you’re interested in them, they respond. You need to find the time to have casual, off-the-cuff conversations with players.”
Recent seasons have seen Sunderland’s dressing room dubbed toxic in certain quarters. “We’re trying to change the culture,” Ross says. “But anyone who experiences a sustained period of failure and criticism will be low on confidence and self-esteem; they’re going to be defensive. I’ve judged everyone I inherited entirely on how I find them. Some are better players and people than they’re perceived.
“There were probably 16 different opinions on Lee Cattermole but Lee trains brilliantly and has been very supportive of me and the staff.”
If Cattermole’s crunching midfield tackles could yet feature in one of Ross’s children’s books (Alfie the Adventurous Winger and Callum the Courageous Keeper were well received in Scotland) the authorship is on hold. “I’ve written six or seven and really loved it,” says Ross, explaining the books were inspired during his trip into schools as a player supporting Show Racism the Red Card. “It’s something I’d like to pursue again one day but I’ve got so many other things to do at the moment.
“I’ve started going to CrossFit and that session is probably the sole complete waking hour in any week when I don’t think about work at all. It’s almost impossible to relax completely, it’s rare to watch a television programme and be transported into a different world. Even when you play with the kids, you’re distracted. You’re thinking: ‘Am I a terrible father?’ because there’s so many things in your head. It’s all-consuming.”
Despite such distractions, Ross takes time out to explore the countryside and coast around his family’s new Northumberland village home with his wife, Heather, a teacher (“as a player Heather used to think my life was dead easy but I think she’s changing her mind now,” he says) and their two small daughters.
The girls are delighted that every time Sunderland win an anonymous fan buys Ross a goat. He hopes to assemble a sizeable herd but is relieved that, rather than ruining his garden, the animals are donated to deprived families in Africa. “It’s slightly unusual but good; people are really benefiting,” he says. “Let’s hope we’ve got lots of goats by the end of the season.”
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