by Alex Fynn
Paul Merson on the other hand had been rejuvenated, the inherent discipline aiding his determination to rid himself of his drug, alcohol and gambling addictions. Summing up the psychological benefits he received, Merson memorably stated, “The new manager has given us unbelievable belief.” The compliments, however, were not mutual. Perhaps Wenger felt Merson had his best years behind him. To the player’s surprise and despite having performed well, he was told in the summer of 1997 that an offer of £5 million from Middlesbrough had been accepted and Merson reluctantly departed the club he had joined 13 years earlier. It was unfortunate, as in his new surroundings, he would eventually fall back into his old habits. However, his selection by Glenn Hoddle for England’s 1998 World Cup squad showed that his short time under Wenger had been personally rewarding.
To the outside world, it was surprising to perceive that Wenger’s decision-making had a ruthless edge, that he was a manager who, ultimately, would take whatever steps he was convinced were needed in the interests of his team. Although he would never talk in negative terms, sudden transfers and loans spoke volumes, often to the bewilderment of those who were brusquely deemed superfluous. Notable later examples of players who Wenger anticipated were starting on the downward slope would be Patrick Vieira and Thierry Henry – proof that there were no exceptions, whatever their status and past contribution.
More than a decade on, and the notion that footballers used to abuse their bodies as a matter of course seems absurd, such is the omnipotence of Arsène Wenger’s example. As one of many Scandinavians who adapted to the rigours of English football, Tottenham goalkeeper Erik Thorstvedt recalled the prevailing conditions pre-Wenger: “The British player eats the wrong food, drinks too much and doesn’t train properly yet has this tremendous will to win.” Whilst this quality was sufficient to paper over the cracks for many British managers it was never enough for Wenger. The right diet and exercise were only a means to an end, to provide the optimum conditions to enable technique to flourish. But when allied to what Wenger habitually referred to as ‘desire’ [for victory] then, with hindsight, his success was inevitable.
Even if, technically, many Premier League teams still fall short of continental standards, behind the scenes the influx of specialists – including psychologists, dietitians, masseurs, osteopaths – at every top-flight club was as a direct result of them absorbing Wenger’s methods and beliefs. Of course, they were only adopted because they achieved results. Why should a footballer be any different from an Olympic athlete? Is he likely to perform to his potential if he enjoys a slap-up meal and a few pints the night before a big match? Merson later reflected, “No matter how great a player Thierry Henry is, if he started doing what I was doing when I was playing for Arsenal [under Graham], he probably wouldn’t score another goal. When we were doing it everyone else was doing it as well, so it levelled itself out, but you can’t do it any more, not in the Premier League.”
Yet at the outset the resistance to a man whose ideas were so at odds with the established culture of the game in England bordered on xenophobia. Certainly, fabricated stories about Wenger’s private life that led to him having to face down a melee of journalists on the steps outside Highbury in his first weeks indicated a move to belittle him and make him persona non grata at the earliest opportunity. Alex Ferguson didn’t exactly help matters with comments like “He’s a novice and should keep his opinions to Japanese football.” In direct contrast to the widespread insularity he encountered – it took a while for the penny to drop – an open-mindedness and an awareness of conditions outside the United Kingdom explains exactly why Wenger was able to buy quality players at bargain prices from the overseas markets (not least France) until other managers were forced to open their eyes by the progress of the ‘novice’. His first hand knowledge of continental football gave the Arsenal manager a similar advantage to that George Graham had enjoyed in his early days when he plundered the lower divisions to build his backline.
The benefits were long-term, as a critical factor in his good start was the revival Wenger inspired in the old English die-hards who had lost their ‘desire’ under Graham. The defence that Wenger inherited – David Seaman, Lee Dixon, Nigel Winterburn, Tony Adams, Steve Bould and Martin Keown – was stacked with experience, but the consensus between both fans and pundits was that time waits for no man and physical decline was beginning to show signs of setting in. They were won over simply because as their fitness dramatically improved so did their performances. Tony Adams put it down to physiology. “There’s no one better at preparing players physically, knowing what they need to be at the peak of fitness,” he said. Steve Bould stressed that he “felt so much fitter under Wenger. I wasn’t injured so much. I felt a lot more supple. We would never have lasted so long without his special methods.” The reactionary Little Englanders who had walked off with pretty much everything the game had to offer were reinvigorated. The defensive unit was reborn in the face of a fresh challenge, and did their stuff – as they entered their thirties – consistently enough to compete once again for the title.
And the pupils opened their teacher’s eyes. Lee Dixon recalls that Wenger “was surprised how good we were as footballers and how intelligent we were. He’d thought we were like robots just doing what we were told. So when he tried to expand our game and let us go out and express ourselves, we were able to do it. When he first came he was going to let us all go.” Steve Bould concurred: “He left us alone during that first season because he only arrived in September, but I think he imagined he was going to have to replace us the following summer.” There is no doubt that a huge contribution to the early headway was the defenders’ willingness to approach their task with a greater sense of purpose than the mere denial of opponents that George Graham required. “You were allowed to do what you wanted in many ways,” recalls Nigel Winterburn. “There weren’t any restrictions. He left it up to us whether we went forward or not. He trusted our judgment.”
Winterburn’s words point to Wenger’s singular approach to coaching. There is very little instruction. Even the juvenile stand-in is not sat down, lectured and told what to do. Having prepared his troupe to perform both physically and mentally at their optimum level, the manager relies on their intelligence and skill to come up with the winning formula. As UEFA coach and former Arsenal midfielder, Stewart Robson, observes, “he develops players not by fantastic coaching but by giving them the environment to express and experiment themselves. He takes the fear out of their play by coaxing them to be more elaborate, precise and imaginative.” As Wenger himself sums up, “I would say that usually to win is a consequence of the quality of play you achieve.” (Although the scintillating play served up in the 2002/03 and 2007/08 seasons show that the theory isn’t perfect.)
Wenger’s training exercises are deployed not just to hone technique but to instil continuous thought, to get everyone into the habit of making the right choices and being able to read what their teammates are instinctively going to do. Wenger saw evidence of the success of his methods in his 2007/08 central midfield partnership of Cesc Fabregas and Mathieu Flamini: “Going forward they are technically good and very mobile. They have a good understanding and cover each other well.” When everything is going to plan, positive, incisive one-and two-touch play becomes second nature, and at their zenith, competitive matches resemble training-ground exercises and vice versa. A pattern of play is unfolded: vision, movement, speed and fluidity.
During the short 20-minute drive from Totteridge to London Colney, Wenger will plan his day ahead. The actual training sessions themselves conform to a pattern although, as Wenger says, “In order that they retain their enthusiasm, the boys mustn’t know exactly what’s coming.” And he adds, “The two criteria for a good session is that it is conducted with a good spirit and that there is the satisfaction which is derived from whole-hearted commitment.” It is the highlight of his day. Nothing gives him more pleasure than being out on the pitch with his team. Training only lasts an
hour and a half and he is at a loss to understand, and certainly would not tolerate, any player who does not put his heart and soul into every session. It is no co-incidence that at Arsenal no-one shirks training. Although he is omnipresent with the shrill sound of his whistle signifying the start and finish of each practice, Wenger doesn’t appear to coach his charges in the strict sense of the word. The main message is to merely clarify what is expected from them.
With the incidence of midweek matches there tend to be only two rigorous sessions per week during the season. All begin with warm-up exercises and jogging which are usually delegated to Wenger’s trusted technical aide Boro Primorac and assistant manager Pat Rice, followed by a number of drills, each lasting around 20 minutes, under the manager’s eagle eye. Invariably the first is a control and pass examination designed to provide the aptitude and confidence to replicate the technique under match conditions. To facilitate commitment to the task in hand – there is no chance of the players knowing exactly what’s in store for them and therefore being able to coast – a small-sided game follows. It is unusual in that it can feature four goals, one on each side of the pitch, with Wenger’s whistle forcing swift decisions and precise shooting to locate the right target. Next comes the one-on-one test. From 30 yards, the attacker has to eliminate his marker and score as well as satisfying Wenger’s stopwatch, which, according to Bob Wilson, Wenger uses “to his own beliefs, which I think are based on medical science. And if he says the exercise is going to last for eight minutes and 20 seconds, then that is exactly what happens.” Kolo Toure commented, “I have Thierry Henry, Adebayor and Van Persie and if they don’t score I am pleased.” While all this is going on the goalkeepers are put through their own specified paces. They then join their teammates for the concluding episode: a full-scale 11-a-side game played under match conditions, which both sides do their utmost to win. It was under such circumstances that the newly acquired Thierry Henry learnt of the punishment he could expect from Premier League defenders after undergoing a no-holds-barred initiation in his own back yard at the hands, or rather the feet, of Tony Adams and Martin Keown.
The mental abilities of his charges to absorb what they are taught without having their hand held is a key factor in Wenger’s decision on who he prioritises for his top 30, his meaningful first-team contenders. Regarding Kolo Toure, he admitted, “Technically he might have been less gifted than some of his young teammates [at ASEC Mimosas in the Ivory Coast], but he had that charismatic attitude which makes a difference.” The charismatic attitude is more accurately described as being smart enough to make the best use of natural ability coupled with the fervent desire to do so. Toure remembers of the Ivorian academy that gave him his first real opportunity, “I was not the best player in that group, but I was the cleverest. In football, and in life, you have to be clever. Now when I call the others I advise them what they have to do and I hope they can make it, too. If they use their brains, they will be much better than me.” However, he certainly wasn’t clever enough to work out what Wenger had in mind for him. It is only with hindsight he now understands how he was subtly handled. “When I came at first I did extra training every day,” he remembers. “At that time he [Wenger] spoke to me every morning and afternoon. The coaches knew my qualities but told me how to do different things. They never told me what they were thinking. They just took me aside each day and gave me advice and instructions – and then I began to see what was happening [that he was being groomed for a pivotal central defensive role].”
And the element of surprise can be disconcerting. More recently, Wenger’s ever-inquiring mind has discovered that by timing how quickly the players receive the ball and then lay it off, he can enhance their movement and interplay. Specifically, statistics can prove or disprove what he picks up from the touchline. He can tell Fabregas that despite the media consensus that the midfielder has put in another outstanding display, he occasionally dwelt on the ball to the detriment of a passing movement. The player may argue but the figures enable the manager to have the last word. “Technical superiority,” he says, “can be measured.”
The spadework for Kolo Toure’s conversion from midfielder/full back to centre back was accomplished during pre-season – the most important weeks of the year for Wenger. It is surely no coincidence that Arsenal have won titles – 1998, 2002 and 2004 – the seasons following summer months with no World Cup or European Championship finals taking place. With such a high-quality cosmopolitan squad Arsenal supplies more and more internationals to these tournament finals. And so after the extension of their seasons into June or in some cases mid-July, the early part of Wenger’s critical pre-season preparation has to take place without them. The manager knows from experience that it is best to give them a complete break and phase them in when he can. Nevertheless, it appears that the fatigue endured and the lack of an optimum pre-season preparation takes its toll and the team invariably fall short of its target – agonisingly so in 1999 and again in 2003 when they set the pace with scintillating football but ended up in second place.
When the manager does speak to the group, “he does it quietly in a way that makes you listen,” says Toure. So no bombastic rallying call, but a calm message, delivered with an authoritative voice that manages to enthuse and persuade his players with the conviction that, as the fans put it, “Arsène knows”. “He believes,” says Bob Wilson, “that you can only rollock a team, have a real go at them, three or four times a season. Otherwise, the impact is lost. Similarly, at half time, he believes the words he wants to say are best expressed when the players have calmed down. And he can then make his points in a quiet, controlled manner and know there is more chance of him getting through to them.” And sometimes he finds that it’s not necessary for him to say anything: the players having worked out what is required by themselves. So well drilled is the squad in his way of thinking that even in the dire circumstance of potentially losing their unbeaten record to Liverpool in April 2004, Vieira and Henry did his team talk for him and the second half saw them exemplifying everything that Wenger could have wanted as they turned a demoralising deficit into a crucial victory.
He sends his team out to play chess rather than to fight. Passion should not overwhelm reason, and yet having prepared the players physically and mentally they are left to decide the best moves for themselves. Those who question the wisdom of this strategy might point to the 2005 penalty fiasco when Robert Pires and Thierry Henry conspired to miss in a bungled attempt to re-create a Johan Cruyff /Jesper Olsen Ajax spot kick from the 1980s, where the pair played a one-two before scoring. With Arsenal only being 1–0 up against Manchester City, it was a risky manoeuvre, although the manager refused to condemn his charges afterwards, perhaps because there was no further score in the match.
To the uninitiated, it may appear a conundrum how Wenger achieves so much which seems to be beyond the scope of other managers with greater resources. Whatever the secret is, there is a steady flow of requests from coaches of all nationalities and via the UEFA network (where Wenger frequently plays a leading role in the technical curricula) to visit Arsenal’s training ground to try to ascertain at first hand what the ‘magical’ methods are. In February 2008, Diego Maradona was the latest in a long line of the great and good of the industry who wished to make their way to London Colney. When told of the Argentine maestro’s request, Wenger’s immediate reaction was “Why does he want to come and see me?” and the answer given to him by the messenger was “Because you are Arsène Wenger.” Another of football’s iconic figures, Marco van Basten, the future Holland manager, spent time at London Colney during the 2003/04 season as he prepared to return to the game as a coach. Having benefited first hand under the tutelage of the legendary Dutch manager Rinus Michels and the innovative Milan coach Arrigo Sacchi, it was a compliment that he felt he could further his education by watching the Arsenal boss at work.
However, the Wengerian masterplan could not be described as one of tactical innovation. He rarely radic
ally alters his team’s approach in the manner that other managers, such as José Mourinho are quick to do when unforeseen obstacles have to be overcome. It seems his chief tactical quandary is whether to field a 4–5–1 formation (most often deployed in the cagier, tight Champions League encounters), a 4–4–2, or its slight variation 4–4–1–1. That appears to be the extent to which any account is taken of what the opposition’s strategy might be. Arsenal invariably try to play in the same manner whether up against Milan or Middlesbrough, relying on the quality of the interplay to create chances rather than any strict pre-determined positional alignments. When critical voices are raised to the effect that Wenger takes no account of the opposition, he is riled: “Do you really think,” he responds, “that I have been a football manager and I do not look at the opposition at all? How can people think like that? That means I am more stupid than stupid. Of course we change our game. We always try to express our strong points. It doesn’t mean we do not look at the opposition. Of course we do. It is very difficult to understand how people think that when we play in Europe, we just walk out there and do not consider who we are playing.” Certainly, whatever the formation it can be very fluid, dependent on the personnel involved. The wide midfield players have licence to roam and interchange without precise managerial instructions and generally create havoc when the team is on song.
Conversely, there is a lack of flexibility to Wenger’s substitutions. For anything other than time-wasting reasons approaching the 90th minute, they are invariably made for physical rather than tactical reasons. An observer who took Wenger at his word when he told him “Nobody is perfect, least of all me” ventured a leading question: ‘Why do you always watch the match from the touchline?’