Idegenlégiósok! (Foreign Players Abroad!), Football Book, Pálfalvi Gábor 1985

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According to Vademecum, a dictionary of unusual words, managers are professionals who prepare, organize and handle the financial arrangements for the guest appearances of artists, athletes or sports clubs. They all claim that professional football would be unimaginable without them. “If we were not needed, the clubs would have abandoned this profession long ago!” they insist.

Today’s football managers and players’ agents can be divided into three categories. The first consists of those holding UEFA licences, of whom there are currently nineteen in Europe. Their main role is to organize matches and tours for national teams and club sides.

Those belonging to the second category work as players’ agents and can themselves be divided into two groups. Some make their living exclusively from this work, or at least claim to do so. Others occasionally try their hand at transferring players, but this is not their main source of income.

Finally, the third category consists of so-called club managers, who are employed directly by football clubs.


Tabora is a Brussels café that was once a regular meeting place for football managers. It was where people in the profession exchanged information, both newcomers and established players’ agents.

Jenő Békeffi, who had held a UEFA licence for two years, entered this world quite by chance. He had lived in the Netherlands, attended film directing school and worked for a while at Dutch television. Football, however, had always been close to his heart.

“Older people may remember the name of Naci Molnár. Well, one day he asked me to interpret for him at a Belgian club because he had grown tired of coaching at the Dutch team ‘Willem II’,” explained the best-known Hungarian manager of the time.

“We were told that they did not need a coach, but they did need a player. So he went back and sent them a footballer. That was how it all began…

“I was in a fortunate position because I had attended school in Amsterdam and spoke Flemish well. It was exactly fifteen years ago that I entered this unusual profession. I worked with major clubs almost throughout my career: in the Netherlands, with Ajax and Feyenoord. I was involved in arranging contracts for footballers no less prominent than Arie Haan, Rensenbrink and Cruyff.”

After the great Ajax era, Jenő Békeffi settled in Belgium. He was then living in Waterloo, 23 kilometres from Brussels. He had also managed to achieve success in that country a world-famous club, Anderlecht. Soon, quite a few of Ajax’s players were kicking the ball for the Belgian millionaire’s team, and he had a hand in that as well.

“First and foremost, I know the Dutch, Danish and Swedish markets well,” he said. “Since I began working more closely with Anderlecht, players from these three countries have represented different eras at the club. Perhaps they will forgive me, but I haven’t worked much with Hungarians. We only helped poor Gyula Lóránt with the signing of Salamon from Diósgyőr, when he was coaching Aris in Thessaloniki. Ajax, Anderlecht and the other clubs would have been too big a step for Hungarian players. The national team and Videoton have performed brilliantly recently, and Hungarian footballers have therefore come into the spotlight. I hope that some of them will soon be playing for a few world-famous teams.”

“As I understand it, you are not allowed to deal with player transfers. UEFA’s regulations prohibit it.”

“An UEFA licence authorises you to organise tours and matches, but I can advise clubs when they are buying players. The association protects us: if a club fails to pay, we can recover our money through enforcement. Of course, we have to be very careful, because the 50,000 Swiss francs that every UEFA-licensed manager must deposit can quickly disappear. The international organisation uses this money to pay compensation if a manager makes a mistake. There are many people who arrange player transfers on an occasional basis, and there is a great deal of abuse. UEFA wants to weed them out and is planning to allow only licensed agents to handle football transfers. They can be held accountable, whereas the others can operate with impunity.

“Obtaining a UEFA licence is not an easy matter. A few major clubs nominate a candidate for the position of manager to their national association. The candidate is then questioned, and if even one person objects, the application can be rejected. Békeffi Jenő is proud that, even after fifteen years, he still has excellent relationships with the major clubs mentioned earlier. At Anderlecht, for example, he continues to command respect, something few people in the profession can claim.

“How profitable is it to work as a UEFA-licensed manager nowadays?”

“Let’s say I take the Hungarian national team to Rotterdam. Feyenoord might pay the opposition twenty thousand dollars, ten per cent of which would go to me. That would mean two thousand dollars. Alternatively, I might receive a thousand dollars from each party. You should never try to extract the maximum possible commission from a single deal; your expenses may increase, and maintaining good relationships can prove valuable.

“Occasional ‘managers’, or rather player agents, are often criticised by many people. In many Western countries, employment agencies are controlled by the state, so these agents are engaging in an activity that is officially prohibited.

“That is true, yet people turn a blind eye to it. Previously, twenty-five such peoI had been in contact with them, but most of them did not really know the player market. Among the Hungarians, László Pintér had worked for me the longest, and later György Balla joined him.


Almost every European nation is represented among football managers and players’ agents. There are quite a few Hungarian émigrés among them as well. I met László Pintér in Antwerp, a professional belonging to the latter category. In a private club called “Jimmy’s”, we sipped pineapple whisky at the bar and admired the beautiful mixed-race girls. In the mirrored interior, elegant ladies and gentlemen swayed to the rhythm of disco music. I had set out into the night with the clear intention of learning a thing or two about the fifty-three-year-old businessman, who had been earning his living from football for some time.

He had helped more Hungarian footballers secure contracts than anyone else, primarily in Belgium. Within three years, Fazekas, Müller, Kocsis, Tóth, Pintér, Pál, Zombori and Póczik had become professional footballers on the recommendation of László Pintér.

“I’ve been doing this professionally for six years,” he said. “Before that, I owned a restaurant, but I grew tired of it. This gives me a freer lifestyle.”

“And uncertainty, too,” I remarked.

“If you work honestly, I can assure you that you can earn more in this profession.”

“Forgive me, but is it possible to do this in the strictest sense of the word honestly? Every day, one hears behind the scenes about clubs and footballers circumventing the regulations. Would a players’ agent really be the exception?”

“You are probably thinking of the double bookkeeping that clubs practised in Belgium. They did not do it because they lacked money, but because of taxes. Here, it is quite normal, in fact. With a little exaggeration, anyone who evades taxes is considered a national hero! Nevertheless, I maintain that most managers work honestly. Anyone who makes a living from this knows that the rules of the game must be respected.

“In principle, anyone can call themselves a players’ agent. A grocer, an accountant or an engineer can try their hand at it; clubs might even agree to meet with them. Whether the clubs will actually work with them later is another matter. Every year, new applicants appear, hoping to supplement their income significantly. Unfortunately, there are many amateurs among them!”

We continued our question-and-answer session in the early hours of the morning, in the Victory, a late-night restaurant frequented by a devoted Royal Antwerp supporter. It was around three in the morning.

“The football-agent profession has a rather bad reputation in Hungary,” László Pintér said, sounding somewhat disillusioned.

“Perhaps not without reason.”

“I have heard of quite a few cases in which Hungarians living in Belgium, calling themselves agents, tried to attract people with fabulous offers