Posts Tagged ‘Manchester United’

Manchester United IPO: traders wore the club’s home jersey on the trading floor – but it didn’t help United’s stock price.

(From AP)

Man United shares flat on New York debut

Soccer club Manchester United has made a disappointing debut on the New York Stock Exchange, even after opening at a discounted price, with enthusiasm for the celebrated team overshadowed by its debt load and financial track record.

Many had expected that fans of most famous soccer club in the world would snap up shares, leading to a pop in early trading, but that didn’t materialise.

Some analysts had warned that the initial public offering was overvalued, particularly since the club is debt ridden and the family that owns them, the Glazers, retained almost total voting control over the team.

“There was a lot of wing flapping, but not much flying today,” said John Fitzgibbon, the founder of IPOScoop.com on Friday.

“It’s reflective of the overall IPO market; they may hit a couple of road bumps, but the deals are getting done.”

Manchester United shares ended the day’s trading on the New York Stock Exchange at $US14, unchanged from the level they were priced at by the offer’s underwriters late on Thursday.

The stock, traded under the MANU ticker symbol, had initially been expected to be sold for between $US16 and $US20 per share.

The $US14 per share price still valued the club at $US2.3 billion ($A2.18 billion), slightly higher than the record $US2 billion paid for the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team earlier this year.

The 134-year-old soccer club expects to make $US110.3 million from its offering of 8.3 million shares. It will use $US101.7 million to pay down senior notes.

The Glazer family, which owns the team, is selling another 8.3 million shares separately.

The family’s 2005 leveraged takeover was valued at $US1.47 billion, much of it borrowed. United carried STG416.7 million ($A620 million) in debt as of March 31. It had no debt when it was bought by the Glazer family in 2005.

The Glazers are the American family that owns the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. Malcolm Glazer is CEO of First Allied Corporation, a holding company with numerous business interests. His two sons, Avram and Joel, are co-chairmen of Manchester United.

After the stock offering, the Glazers will keep control of the team through Class B shares that have 10 times the voting power of the stock sold to the public.

Manchester United is one of the most renowned sports teams in the world. It claims 659 million followers and 26.9 million Facebook fans. Half of its fans are in Asia, where its games are televised and its replica shirts and other products are huge sellers. But analysts are more sceptical of the team, known as The Red Devils, as a financial commodity. It is not a high-growth company like a tech startup, but like some tech startups, it is heavily in debt.

Manchester United is hoping to expand its lucrative sponsorships and licensing deals. Earlier this month it announced a $US559 million, seven-year shirt sponsorship agreement with Chevrolet. But financial performance has been choppy. The team expects to report a loss for the year ended June 30, excluding a tax credit, with revenue down 3 per cent to 5 per cent.

And broadcasting and ticket revenue is largely dependent on how far the team goes in English and European cup competitions.

The IPO market has been chilled since Facebook’s disappointing debut in May.

Outback Steakhouse owner Bloomin’ Brands debuted below its expected offering price on Wednesday. On Friday, its shares slipped 63 US cents to end at $US12.86 in morning trading, still 17 per cent higher than its IPO price of $US11 per share.

One analyst said Manchester United’s flat opening is a signal that individual investors, who are typically attracted to well-known name brands on the market, are paying more attention to valuation and price.

“The bigger story confirms that individual investors felt so burned by the market – having been burned twice, by the financial crisis and then by Facebook – that they’re not willing to get burned again,” said Sam Hamadeh, CEO of PrivCo LLC, which researches privately held companies.

Personally I wouldn’t go anywhere near this stock – the Glazers have not been good for Man Yoo in my opinion. But I wish I’d had the money to buy my beloved Southampton when they went broke a few years back – now back in the Premiership and debt free. “May you live in interesting times”, says the ghost of Peter Osgood.

Ricky Lambert scores last minute equaliser against Blackpool

Ricky Lambert scores a last minute equaliser against Blackpool in the 2-2 draw on 10 December 2011

I am perpetually bemused and amused by the propensity for otherwise reasonably sane people, oneself included, to become helplessly trapped in a cycle of despair and adoration for a group of sportspeople.

Currently, the football team which has been my deep love for more than thirty years – the “Pride of Hampshire”, Southampton FC, a.k.a the “Saints” – sit proudly atop the English Championship, the second tier of English soccer. If they continue to win more games than their rivals, then the end of the season will see the ultimate dream achieved, returning to the Premiership – the world’s greatest domestic football league – which they once graced for a remarkable 27 continuous years.

St Mary's Stadium

St Mary’s Stadium, home to Southampton FC, nestled in an industrial area near the famous port

Southampton’s story is that of a family club, once based around a Church football team – St Mary’s, now the name of their new stadium,and the origin of their nickname – way back in the 19th century, that has always punched way above its weight. At one point when I started supporting them (whilst at University in the ugly little south coast port city, so scarred by Nazi bombs in the 2nd world war) Manchester United used to make more from programme sales on a Saturday than Southampton made from ticket sales. The club nearly crashed out of existence altogether through financial troubles just a few short years ago, and have languished in the lower reaches of English football while they sort themselves out. These are heady days indeed.

Saints have always, with temporary diversions inflicted by misguided managers who rarely lasted long, been a club that preferred to play “total football”: football with genuine flair, football with what used to be called “Continental panache”, football to make you gasp with pleasure when it went right and cringe with pain when it went wrong. The roll call of great players who slotted comfortably into this unrealistically idealistic atmosphere almost beggars belief for a club of the size of Southampton – Bates, Gilchrist, Davies, Paine, Boyer, MacDougall, Moran, Osgood, Channon, Keegan, Wallace, Shilton.

Matt Le Tissier

Matt Le Tissier, perhaps the most talented footballer of his generation – perhaps any generation – and Southampton legend.

And, of course, the mecurially brilliant and sublime Matt Le Tissier. Or as he became universally known by Southampton supporters, “Le God”. Without question, the most gifted attacking midfielder the English game ever produced, who steadfastly refused multi-million-pound offers to move to the likes of Chelsea and Manchester United with the simple words, “I like it here”.

It was this crazy, knockabout passion that led to Saints once memorably defeating Manchester United in the prestigious FA Cup Final, despite being a division below and a light year apart in terms of raw talent. It remains the only major trophy the club has ever won.

It is Saints’ generation-on-generation preference for bold, flowing courageous football, so often resulting in the team losing games 4-3 at the death knock of the 90 minutes as the defence streamed forward, looking for a winner, that led one supporter to memorably comment, “It’s not the despair that really gets to me, it’s the hope.”

So anyhow, last night, my beloved team were on the TV live, playing a team, Blackpool, that on current form they should beat easily. And true to the deadly obsession that is sports fanaticism, a bunch of us on the other side of the world from the actual match trailed loyally into a pub in Melbourne at 11.30pm in the pouring – torrential – rain, to once again undergo the ritual sacrifice of our sanity.

All ages, shapes, sizes and sexes. Actually, what was really funny was that in the streets and in the pub we were surrounded by cheery Christmas party revellers, many of them late teen, early 20s girls dressed in their best party finery – which means mini skirts that make handkerchiefs look excessively over-manufactured and legs that never seem to stop as they reach for the sky. Yet we only had eyes for the TV and every missed pass, crunching tackle, and woodwork-rattling shot. They must have felt their efforts to impress were entirely wasted. Or perhaps we were all gay? We certainly looked peculiar, decked out in red and white team shirts, and one bizarre fellow sporting a felt jester’s hat in team colours with bells. Yes, dear reader, that was me.

Bartosz Bialkowski

Bart Bialkowski – the stand-in keeper’s mistake gifted Blackpool a vital goal

And once again, Saints put us through the emotional wringer, with a performance that ran the full gamut of the sublimely talented to the horrifyingly inept and back again. They totally dominated the opening period, and scored a good goal from the latest hero to embody Saints’ spirit, Ricky Lambert. Then they let in two goals, one a well taken effort that was probably unpreventable, and one a goalkeeping howler that will haunt the lad concerned for the rest of his career. Stand-in keeper Bart Bialkowski somehow let an otherwise harmless shot squirm under his body and through his legs to give Blackpool the lead.  Perhaps the only consolation for the lad is the mishap occurred too late to be included in the “bloopers of the year”compilation DVDs out for Christmas.

Not until the second minute of five minutes added on to the normal 90 did Saints finally score an equaliser (seen above, again from “Goal Machine” Lambert). The relief in the Sherlock Holmes Tavern was palpable. And Saints’ nearest rivals, West Ham, contrived to lose, to boot. So we were still somewhat fortuitously top of the table, still with an unbeaten home record (although the current record-breaking run of 22 homes games won came to a sticky end) leaving us tragics in the pub buoyed up and near-salivating for next Sunday’s game against arch-rivals Portsm*uth.

(I have to write Portsm*uth and not the whole name of that benighted club, because it is a long-standing tradition amongst Saints fans that we never write their club name in full, which would pay them too much respect. They are more commonly referred to as simply “Skates” or “the fish fiddlers”, in deference to the belief that fishermen in the area used to acheive sexual satisfaction by having intercourse with the wings of the Skate fish, common in the area, (a type of small ray), which was supposed to mimic a human female sex organ. The fact that those fish were then on-sold to the locality, including Southampton, may well have something to do with the persistence of the mythology and the mutual dislike. Since time immemorial, the rivalry engenders more hatred and detestation than possibly any other in English football.)

I was left, driving home in the pouring, leaden, dark night, to reflect on what it is about supporting a sports team that makes it such a consuming and culturally-independent experience. Around the world, sport of all kinds, but especially the various codes of football, captures the hearts and minds of thinking, rational people and turns them into dribbling idiots, crying or laughing into their beer, and happily hugging smelly strangers indiscriminately.

I saw it again last night, when, in response to our manic shouting at the TV, (“Ref! You total bastard! Offside!”), the entire clientele of the pub started to forget what is was they were there for originally, and pay attention to the flickering images of inch high men running backwards and forwards, beamed live through unimaginably brilliant technology from the other side of the planet. By the end of the game, and Lambert’s last-gasp equaliser, they were all on side too, cheering, asking us if they could wear our colours, asking about the team and our star players, and cheerful adopting our lifelong allegiances as their own. As one colleague bemusedly remarked to me, “Not bad, another 30 new supporters who’ve never heard of us before.”

Yes, for a few brief minutes, we were the same tribe. We were the same religion. We believed the same things. We were the same town. The same country. The same world.

We were the same family.

Damn, it felt good.

Post Scriptum

Southampton were promoted back to the Premiership in late April 2012, returning to the top flight of English football – possibly, arguably, the best league in the world – after seven years away. A week before, Portsmouth were relegated to League 1, the old “Division 3”. As one wag remarked: “Normal service has been resumed”.