by Ruud Gullit
As a manager I never felt that I had a grip on what was happening in the club. I was never able to put my finger on it.
The manager’s influence
As a manager it can be difficult to close yourself off from the outside world. Everyone wants to influence you, inside and outside the club. Mostly the discussions are about how to organize the team and the tactics to employ, although often it will also be about which players to sign.
At Chelsea I was constantly being offered players. These were only available through certain middlemen who tried to influence the manager or club to their own ends. Their ends being: to make money. Unfortunately, these were nearly always players we didn’t really need. They were forever suggesting that Chelsea buy Chris Sutton. “What do I need him for?” I’d say. Where I was concerned that was usually enough to close that particular window. But after I was fired, Sutton was one of the first players the club bought. With all due respect to Sutton, he was not the player to help Chelsea grow to the level the club aspired to.
When a club begins to acquire players who bring nothing to the squad then it’s usually a clear sign: that ship has more than one captain, and they all want a piece of the pie.
It can be hard to keep tabs on these processes as a manager. Especially since you may only be with a club for a short period, and at first the internal and external lines of communication are all but impenetrable. All sorts of things happen, often behind your back. There are powerful forces in and around the club and the team that it may be difficult to influence. You can’t say: “I don’t accept that.” If you did, you’d be out like a shot. A manager is a passer-by. Only when you get a chance to stay for the long term, like Sir Alex Ferguson at Manchester United or Arsène Wenger at Arsenal, is it possible to influence the organization.
Even José Mourinho had trouble stamping his authority on the club, despite that supposedly being one of the Special One’s specialities. Everywhere he works, controversy follows, as if it’s part of the way he works. Yet in the end it’s always Mourinho who wins, at least as long as the club keeps winning, as in his unprecedented run of success at Chelsea in 2004–7.
Mourinho’s downfall
When he first arrived, Mourinho was unique: the way he spoke to players, how he trained and how he prepared them mentally. Players always spoke about him in positive terms, even after they had left. (Although there’s always a moment when players rebel. Especially those who aren’t being selected.)
In 2013, when he began his second stint at Chelsea, Mourinho’s arrival was different. He no longer got away with everything; the media and the English soccer audience took a more critical stance, especially after the episode involving the first-team doctor, Eva Carneiro. Mourinho had gone too far and for the English everything was suddenly different. Mourinho even began to criticize certain players, which he usually didn’t do. Clearly a break-up was imminent. At Chelsea, they dropped him like a brick, despite having just won the championship.
As Chelsea disintegrated, Mourinho had almost no one to fall back on beside his first eleven. But no one said a word about his departure. Later, players’ stories began to appear in the media. People like Kevin De Bruyne and John Obi Mikel revealed that Mourinho had never spoken to them at all: “He only focused on his core players. He didn’t even see the substitutes.” Retrospective comments like that are unnecessary in my opinion. They should have said something when he was with the squad as their manager. (By the way: that is why De Bruyne left for the Bundesliga club Wolfsburg, after which the Belgian midfielder/striker made the perfect move by signing for Manchester City.)
Mourinho made a few extraordinary remarks in the buildup to the 2015/16 season: “I don’t need to buy any new players for the coming season, because I have a team full of champions.” That is bound to get the substitutes thinking: Will I ever get a chance to play, am I even part of the plan? And at the same time, it’s a warning to all the rival clubs: Oh yes, they’ll be thinking, so they reckon they’re the best?
Two ways to win
Although I don’t know Mourinho personally, I have a sort of love–hate relationship with him. I admire him for all the trophies he has won, for his amazing achievements at FC Porto, Chelsea and Internazionale. Yet I get the feeling with each of Mourinho’s teams that, given the individual qualities of the players, he should have been able to achieve a lot more. Each of his teams has lacked that extra bit of class that would have made it so much more attractive to watch. The main reason, in my opinion, is that for Mourinho it’s all about the result. Nothing wrong with that of course, because he can justify his choices with an array of trophies and the compliments of the players he has worked with over the years.
At the end of his first period at Chelsea, Mourinho was fired because it was felt, not least by the owner, Roman Abramovich, that the style of play was not attractive enough. Even so, the Russian invited him back six years later and the terms they agreed doubtless also covered the style of play. Indeed, after the summer of 2014, Chelsea played fantastic soccer under his guidance, the kind of soccer I love. Players had all the space they needed to display their class and everyone enjoyed watching.
Yet at the start of the second half of the season the change came: each time the team had gained a 1–0 lead, Mourinho had taken out his calculator and locked down the midfield with Kurt Zouma as an extra defender. Was that really necessary to win the Premier League? After all, the beautiful, attractive style of the first half of the season had put Chelsea on top, and with a significant lead. Wouldn’t it have been amazing if Mourinho of all people had continued to produce attacking soccer all the way?
But as he said himself: “Do you want to win or do you want to play beautifully?” For him, it’s either one or the other, there is evidently no way of combining the two.
I admit, he’s a winner and he’s one of the best managers in the world. His methods are successful and his philosophy is 90 percent my philosophy. On the other hand: I’ve played with the world’s greatest stars in an extraordinarily tough Serie A, where defense was always paramount. But at AC Milan we turned that around and we got results by playing attractive soccer. Like Ajax, Bayern Munich, Liverpool and FC Barcelona used to do, and like Bayern and Barcelona do today.
Do his victories belong in that same category? Will he be remembered, with all his trophies, as an innovator? Not in my book, because I only saw that last crucial 10 percent in the first half of his last season at Chelsea. The result was that he left Chelsea a second time due to poor results exacerbated by internal problems.
Charisma and pure luck
A manager needs to exude charisma. Zinedine Zidane may not be much of a talker, but his charisma is obvious. And yet even Zidane, with his Real Madrid background and all his trophies, remains a passer-by. After all, the club’s money is on the pitch, and directors will always look to the players in the end. If he wants to stay on as manager in the Spanish capital, he has to succeed.
And even success is no guarantee. Carlo Ancelotti was successful at Chelsea and was given the boot, just like Roberto Di Matteo, who won the Champions League against Bayern Munich. At the same time, there are numerous examples of managers who won nothing and yet remained, like Claudio Ranieri, who brought no trophies to Stamford Bridge and still served out four years.
Luck is a crucial ingredient for any manager to succeed at a club. Often, even the greatest managers can’t be particular, because you don’t always have a choice. You never know what you’re going to find at a club. How will the board respond if the team’s performance declines? What is the atmosphere like between the players? And between players and staff, and with the directors, and what is the real financial picture at the club?
You can learn a lot in preliminary discussions, but you get a feel for the actual situation inside the club only once you start work. So luck is an essential factor: have you arrived at just the right moment? Are you the perfect fit for that organization
at this point?
At one time, if you were the manager at Manchester United you would have won the Premier League at some point or other, but now the English competition seems to have been blown wide open: there is so much cash being pumped into clubs like Manchester City, Chelsea, Arsenal and Tottenham Hotspur that United no longer have one or two teams competing against them for the title, but five or six.
It was these changing conditions in the Premier League that David Moyes and then Louis van Gaal faced at Manchester United. That is what made it so difficult for them. But the outside world isn’t interested in excuses: the expectations of the fans and the press remain unchanged. So the manager’s future at the club is in the hands of the directors and the ultimate question is whether the board has the patience to wait for results. Not where Moyes was concerned, as his quick dismissal proved. Van Gaal continued a bit longer, but his credit didn’t last forever either.
The toss
When the referee tosses the coin, if you call it right you get to choose which goal you defend in the first half. Clubs always prefer to play toward their supporters in the second half. Liverpool like to play toward the Kop after halftime, Feyenoord to Vak S and Borussia Dortmund to Die Gelbe Wand. Psychologically, playing toward the fans gives a team an additional incentive to score. You can look into their eyes and feel their desire for a goal.
As a captain I always took that into account. I turned it around at away games. Knowing that the home team would want to play toward its own fans in the second half, I’d make sure they did just the opposite if I won the toss. Then we’d be the team playing toward the home fans after halftime. That was fantastic.
The toss is an opportunity to needle the opposition. It’s a tactic like any other. Some captains prefer not to do that, out of respect for the home side. But what’s the point? They’d do the same if they were the visiting team. The game starts with the toss.
How to watch soccer
Soccer players have to think two or three steps ahead on the pitch. By contrast, analysts look two or three steps back.
Almost everyone knows something about soccer, a little at least, but no two people have exactly the same perspective. Some base their views on statistics and some follow the ball or the movements of the players, while others watch how the players are organized on the pitch. I mainly look at the details that show why things are going well or badly for a team.
Often, errors are not the fault of the person directly involved; usually the cause lies with something that went wrong earlier in the movement. The last player in line usually ends up in trouble because of something another teammate did at an earlier stage. You have to trace it back.
Cause and effect
For the wider public, cause and effect are not always obvious, so that is what I focus on as an analyst. In fact that’s how most players and managers watch a game. Whether it’s at home in front of the television, at the stadium, or in the TV or radio studio, what I ask is: “Why did it go wrong?”
A good example is Ross Barkley, who the press and the public talked up as one of England’s most talented players. I analyzed an Everton game in which the midfielder was running with the ball far too often and constantly losing possession. The longer you run with the ball, the more likely you are to lose it. It’s simple probability. But was it the lad’s fault that he kept running? Why didn’t other players offer to take the ball? Why weren’t they making runs?
Everything Barkley did showed he was trying to live up to expectations. In his desire to prove himself he kept calling for the ball, but often lost it too. I show examples, but I wouldn’t lay the blame on a young guy like that. On the contrary. Alongside Barkley there was the experienced Gareth Barry, who could have solved Barkley’s problem by telling him: “Don’t run, Ross, pass the ball, look for an easy option.” That’s the kind of coaching young players need, not a roasting for losing the ball. Without support from a player like Barry he’ll carry on making the same mistakes time and again.
You have to put the blame where the responsibility lies. First point out what Barkley is doing wrong, then discuss why it happens. In effect you’re giving viewers a manual and, if they’re smart, Barkley and especially Barry will also benefit. That’s how I analyze soccer: identifying cause and effect. The player who loses the ball in a tackle may seem to be the one to blame, but in reality the real error was often not his.
As a manager I tried to make sure the less experienced players were never made scapegoats; I put responsibility on the better players. It was up to them to lead the way. Often I had to use tough language. Later I’d take the player aside and explain. If you’re as good as you’re supposed to be, and you’re so confident and classy, then you should be helping the others and warning them about what’s going to happen and the mistakes they’re making. You’re the one who’s responsible and you should feel that responsibility. It’s easy to abuse inexperienced players. When experienced players make mistakes then it’s only fair they take the blame.
In the studio
At the BBC I follow one or sometimes two games. Often they ask me to comment on Chelsea matches, because I played for Chelsea and I was a manager there. Or if there’s a key Dutch player or manager, like Louis van Gaal when he was running Manchester United, I’ll be the first in line to analyze their moves.
I’ll often be in the Netherlands, England or Qatar, with different analysts in the studio. For Match of the Day on the BBC with Gary Lineker, I select moments in the game to show where things go wrong or right later on. Afterward I go to the editing room to review them and discuss what we’ll use in the program. Sometimes I ask for arrows to highlight how the players move.
My favorite combination is two analysts and one presenter, as in Match of the Day, SBS6’s Champions League broadcasts and the beIN Sports subscription channel. Then you get more time to talk about the game and the key moments, and you’re able to delve a little deeper, explain a few things. With three analysts it gets less interesting, and with four you hardly get a chance to speak. Especially at halftime, since the advertisements leave you just a couple of minutes to present your analysis.
I usually jot down a couple of names during the game and when I see the pictures later in the broadcast I remember what I wanted to say and I point out the relevant details. For example, a player who fails to make a run, or a player who lets another get away from him, or who fails to coach a fellow player.
I tell these things in my own way, calm and relaxed, and I definitely don’t do it with a frown. There’s no reason not to joke and have a laugh. I smile and chat with everyone and I’m comfortable whoever I’m talking to.
The main thing is to analyze as originally as possible, and show viewers key aspects of the game and the effect these episodes had, whether for better or for worse: aspects that I see but that many viewers may have missed.
Decisive moments
When analyzing a game I don’t just follow the ball. I look at various aspects of formation and pattern, and try to identify decisive moments: why do things happen the way they do?
Perhaps the most decisive, game-changing moment in recent years was Robin van Persie’s goal for the Netherlands at the 2014 World Cup against the world champions, Spain, in the opening encounter. That flying header over Iker Casillas reverberated around the world. It was sensational.
But that was not the most important aspect of the goal for the Dutch team. After having struggled through the first forty-five minutes and narrowly escaped a 2–0 deficit when David Silva was caught offside, suddenly the Dutch equalized and went in at halftime back in contention. While Louis van Gaal’s team entered the dressing room on a high, the Spaniards left the pitch under a psychological cloud. A cloud that must have seemed darker and darker as the fifteen minutes in the dressing room ticked by. Had they conceded the goal at any other time, they would have carried on with the game and the equalizer would not have had such an impact. But now
the Spanish players were sitting in the dressing room, wondering: “How was that possible?” While the Dutch players were thinking: “We’re back in!”
This timing can influence the rest of the game in a dramatic way, and indeed the second half saw the world champions demolished 5–1 by an unfettered Dutch team, with Van Persie and Arjen Robben rampant. Spain were unable to rise above that moment just before halftime: it affected their subsequent games too, and they never progressed past the group stage. Meanwhile the Dutch went on to the semifinals, where they met Argentina, only to be eliminated on penalties.
An unforgettable game from an analyst’s point of view was the Premier League encounter between two closely matched sides, Liverpool and Chelsea, on April 27, 2014. At stake was the championship. If Liverpool could draw the game, they would retain their one-point lead against their nearest rivals, Manchester City, then chasing a second title in three seasons. A simple draw was all that Liverpool needed from their manager, Brendan Rodgers, for a first league championship since 1990.
But what did Liverpool do? They decided that they wanted to win that game at Anfield in front of their delirious fans, to show why they were the side that deserved to take the Premier League trophy that season. The lasting memory of their delusion came just before halftime as Steven Gerrard slipped in midfield, lost the ball and Chelsea’s striker Demba Ba snatched it and tucked it into the Liverpool goal: 1–0.
At that moment the game turned, but did Gerrard’s loss of the ball really cost Liverpool the match? No, there was a different reason: Chelsea had set a trap and Liverpool had walked right into it. Liverpool wanted to wrap up the title at home as quickly as possible and went for it from the moment the whistle blew. Chelsea allowed Liverpool to take the initiative and played the league fixture as if it had been a Champions League encounter. Liverpool thought: we’ve got the ball, we’re the team in charge, we’re dominating.