It’s clear that we need to hear much more from Mike Ashley

The other evening, I was talking to my wife and, I confess, half-watching the TV that was showing the news in the background.

Suddenly, she complained, rightly, that my eyes were drawn to the screen and I was not listening to her. It was because I was doing a double-take. Mike Ashley was on screen, talking to the reporter.

This, for anyone who knows anything about the Sports Direct and Newcastle United boss, is a rare event. He keeps his public appearances to a minimum.

But there he was, looking relaxed, natural, speaking freely, and, I have to say, sounding authentic and genuine.

That qualification is necessary, because so much that is negative is written about Ashley. He’s a bogeyman, a dark, bullying, brooding, mysterious force who runs the discounts chain and his other store chains as a personal fiefdom.

He cares little for the niceties, extolling the virtues of zero hours’ labour, facing a £605m tax demand from the authorities in Belgium, falling out with his firm of auditors and struggling to find a replacement, buying up fading retailers when others will not touch them, appointing his young son-in-law to a high-flying strategic post. And that’s just the recent coverage. And that, too, is merely the high street end.

Go to the sports section, and you will find acres of newsprint devoted to Ashley’s reign at Newcastle United, much of it scathing. He falls out with his managers, does not spend enough on the team, is seemingly content to preside over a big club that in footballing terms is going nowhere... the list of complaints levelled against him by the Geordie faithful is long and rancorous.

Before matches they will demonstrate against him, they hold up placards demanding his departure, sometimes in the most impolite of terms. It’s been going on like this for years, and all the while, Ashley does precious little to engage with them.

Yet, after seeing him on the news bulletin, I was listening to the following morning’s Today programme on Radio 4, and there he was again. He was describing how he is a major supporter of bricks and mortar retailing, and is from a generation that has never quite got digital, and how determined he is to make a fist of old-fashioned retailing. And jolly convincing and persuasive he came across, too.

Likeable, almost. I hesitate there because much of the mud has stuck, and we’ve heard little of his side of the story – not from him directly, anyway. But, as I watched and listened, I found myself thinking, why not? Mike, where have you been all this time?

I’ve spoken to him, but it was strictly for background and off-the-record. It’s a shame, because if ever there was a business leader with plenty to say it was Ashley. He owned more than 60 per cent of a publicly-quoted retailer that possesses some of our best-known sports clothing and equipment brands, and has stores on virtually every major shopping stretch. He controlled one of our most famous football clubs, an iconic institution in its native northeast. He was intent on defying the gravitational pull besetting other shopkeepers as they battled the onset of online, and was busy snapping up chains, making him an enormous player in the industry.

Any one of which would make Ashley a public figure. They gave him celebrity status, in the City, in retailing, and in football. Yet, his stock position was always to eschew any media interest.

Of course, he’s entitled to adopt that stance. He might be shy, he may believe he prefers to let the numbers and performance do the talking, he may assume he will never get a fair hearing (certainly where some football punditry is concerned, he could be justified in that supposition).

All of which are perfectly valid, and indeed, among the reasons trotted out frequently by bosses as to why they will lay themselves open to public questioning by journalists. For some, not many, such reticence is accepted, and they remain undamaged.

In Ashley’s case, however, given the scale of his high-profile interests, and accompanying prominence, and the various accusations levelled against him, his decision to remain in the shadows backfired terribly on him. In fact, Ashley is living proof of how the media and accusers can run away with themselves if there is little by way of counter-balance. They filled the vacuum, and it was virtually entirely negative.

Hearing him, it’s difficult to discern what he was so afraid of. He’s strong and forthright in his views. He’s got something to say, and, provided he keeps his temper, delivers it well.

Investors require detail and analysis from Ashley regarding their company’s practices and future direction. The Newcastle supporters could do with being taken through the club’s finances from his perspective (they assume that as a wealthy individual he should dip into his deep pockets more readily, but he may have a perfectly valid reason why that should not be the case). The stricken UK traditional retail industry urgently needs an advocate and a champion, someone who can persuade ministers and councils to act, to make shopping more attractive and accessible, and to level the playing field with online.

Ashley could be that person. He’s articulate, sensible and unlike a lot of commentators he has actual experience and current skin in the game. We need to hear much more from Mike Ashley.