No easy cure for second-season syndrome

On the Premiership:Apparently, it was the Ferrari that did for Alan Pardew. Once the late, lamented West Ham manager purred into the club's Chadwell Heath training ground in his gleaming new macho-machine in August, the game was as good as up - his focus had blurred, his desire had fizzled out, his players had lost faith.

What utter nonsense. The mid-life crisis theory might raise a chuckle or two - and the notion of multizillionaire footballers accusing others of allowing the accumulation of material wealth to blunt their ambition is definitely worth a try around the Christmas dinner table next week - but the real reasons for Pardew's dramatic tumble from grace are far more prosaic.

The Hammers and their crestfallen former coach are simply the latest to fall victim to second-season syndrome, a particularly nasty virus that wrecks dreams, pops egos and shatters reputations, all in the space of nine wretched months.

And, what is worse, there is no known cure - six years ago, Ipswich attempted to solve their second-season wobbles by throwing money at a host of inappropriate players, including the ageing Finidi George and Matteo Sereni. The result? Relegation, a year after the newly promoted Suffolk side had gate-crashed the top five.

True, there are less virulent forms of the disease. Wigan's symptoms this season include apathy and disillusionment, resulting in only 15,311 supporters turning out for last week's home encounter with Arsenal, but West Ham have been subject to a far more aggressive strain.

Expectations are always sky-high in east London, fuelled by a demanding fan base and a strong contingent of supporters in Premiership press boxes. This holds true even at the bleakest of times, so once the club had marked their first season back in the Premiership with a top-half finish and a thrilling, if ultimately fruitless, contribution to the FA Cup final, an awkward campaign was always in the offing.

Not that Pardew or his players should shoulder all the blame. West Ham are no longer an unknown quantity and teams who had been startled and stung by their up-tempo style have proved warier this year, travelling to Upton Park hell-bent on containment.

The best sides view such treatment as the most fawning form of flattery and adapt their game accordingly, but West Ham - perhaps still afflicted by the self-doubts which are traditionally eat away at all top flight newcomers - have been flummoxed. Their tally of 11 goals is the second-lowest in the Premiership, even if two of those have claimed the impressive scalps of Arsenal and, yesterday, Manchester United.

West Ham's new owners have clearly acclimatised quickly to the Premiership's back-'em-then-sack-'em mentality, dismissing Pardew less than three weeks after speaking glowingly of the long, happy future they intended to share with the 41-year-old. But there was also a degree of ice-cold logic behind Eggert Magnusson's decision to - in his own words - "cut the throat" of his inherited coach.

Pardew, having forged a watertight bond with his squad over two almost unremittingly successful seasons, was hardly likely to turn into a hatchet man overnight. When unpleasant home truths needed to be delivered to players performing woefully below their potential - Nigel Reo-Coker's winning goal yesterday should not mask his feeble contribution this season - Pardew allowed the malaise to continue unabated.

As unfair as it may seem, West Ham's struggles were the manager's responsibility and so it was he who paid the ultimate price. Magnusson is clearly shrewder than his Christmas-elf features would suggest.

He waited just a matter of hours before unveiling Alan Curbishley, an alacrity which suggests the groundwork had been done even before his consortium's takeover had been finalised, and it is an appointment that should quell any lingering unrest at the manner of Pardew's departure.

At first glance, Curbishley does not appear to possess the sort of inspirational personality needed to hoist a club to safety. He is the bank-manager ying to Jose Mourinho's ringmaster yang - no sound-bites or easy headlines here.

But his extraordinary achievements at Charlton - who were a footballing down-and-out when he was appointed in 1991 - should reassure any West Ham supporter who doubts his motivational credentials.

He was afforded a generous reception yesterday and the roar that greeted one of the season's most eye-catching results would have rattled the window-panes from Stamford Bridge to Old Trafford.

Bubbles will be blown more joyously than ever if West Ham use the momentum gained from overturning United into a sustained charge, but for that to happen, Curbishley must find a lasting cure for the dreaded second-season syndrome.

If he fails, West Ham remain a terminal case.