HOWZAT

At United, Kenyon signed Vodafone as shirt sponsor for £9m a season and clinched a £308m, 13-year marketing deal with Nike. He is not a man who thinks small.

If he repeats that success at Chelsea, Abramovich might see a return on his investment. Kenyon is certainly confident he can deliver: “Man U has revenues of about £170m, we have about £140m. We can overtake them in the next 10 years.”

And balance the books? “Profitable by 2009,” he says. “Roman wants to build a sustainable business model that’s not dependent on a benefactor — it’s what turned me on to this opportunity.”

That will bring wry smiles from rivals who insist that Chelsea hasn’t got the fan base to outstrip United and is already paying out more in wages than it takes in revenue.

Rubbish, says Kenyon. “Our wage bill is substantially less than £140m.”

How much less? Not saying. Likewise his salary. Chelsea Village is a private company, so he doesn’t have to tell. “Peter,” says a friend, “likes playing his cards close to his chest.”

That’s always been the Kenyon style. Born an only child, his father an engineering manager, he was brought up in Stalybridge, north Manchester, a sports-obsessed kid who loved leading teams but was never gregarious. Trained as an accountant and taken on by the cigarette maker Gallaher, he swiftly made the transition to manager, yet never lost his love of sport.

Later, when moving through the Burton group, he was one of the first to spot the opportunities in sports-related marketing. He jumped to Umbro in 1986, transforming the loss-making family firm into a profitable, football-focused outfit linked to the top teams. When Umbro was bought by Stone Manufacturing, he moved to America.

That international business and branding experience made him a plum catch for United’s plc in 1996. “He was so different,” says Ian Todd, vice-president in charge of global sports marketing at Nike. “He brought in disciplines that football never had before.”

The people he left behind at United are less enamoured. One describes Kenyon as adept at marketing and merchandising “but not all that methodical or disciplined” and questions how he will cope with Abramovich’s role as owner and interferer.

The same source also contends that Kenyon paid too much on contracts and transfer fees at United, a trait that continues at Chelsea. “We know he has paid more than twice the next bid for players we were in for,” says the source.

Kenyon waves the criticism away. “It’s just about getting the right people and them performing,” he says.

And Abramovich’s role? “He’s the owner, I run it.” Contact is intermittent and informal, usually with Eugene Tenen- baum, a director, translating. Those inside Chelsea say it works well, citing the recent spate of buying and selling, thrashed out efficiently in head-to-head meetings between Mour- inho, Abramovich and Kenyon.

Rivals contend that this relationship cannot work in the long term. “A chief executive has to have a good working relationship with his chairman,” says one rival club boss. “How can you maintain a good working relationship with someone who doesn’t speak English?” But winning is all, and getting much more out of Kenyon is like wrestling with a bag of walnuts. He dismisses complaints of Chelsea ruining Premiership competition: “There are more than three clubs fighting for European places, and every game we play is tough.”

And the huge sums spent on players? “We’ve stopped buying,” he says.

And at home? Kenyon smiles. Few know what the Chelsea boss spends his money on, or much about the family he keeps in Cheshire. He stays on weekdays at his new flat in Kensington. He likes eating at The Connaught hotel. He runs, skis, sails and shoots. And that’s it.

“The tragedy for Peter,” says the shirt sponsor of a rival club, “is that unless Chelsea win the Premiership this season, it will be seen as a failure.”

Kenyon shrugs. He said it was a challenge.