The Management Guy in the Beautiful Game

Unlike in cricket, a football coach is very powerful. There are deserving reasons.

Last October, the famous Dragan Stojkovic of Yugoslavia was overseeing a Japan League match between Nagoya Grampus, of which he was manager, and Yokohoma. A clearance from the keeper flew towards the team benches, where Stojkovic was along with his staff and substitutes. Realising the ball was coming his way, the Italia ‘90 star and former Red Star Belgrade captain took a few quick steps, got his right foot into position and volleyed the ball back all the way into the goal 50 yards away. Rules prohibit kicking the ball back in the field when play has stopped. Stojkovic was sent off. He couldn’t have cared less. It was one of the greatest goals ever and certainly the best in a suit and leather shoes. It became a rage.

It is thrilling when a former hero briefly reignites his love affair with the ball and shows a trick or two. It is appropriate that some of the highlights of the current World Cup have been Diego Maradona’s reactions in the sidelines when the ball rolled towards him.

Such indulgence, however, is a luxury for managers. As per the norm, they are behind-the-scenes people. They don’t touch the ball. They push the buttons, like PlayStation gamers.  But unlike video game savants, managers have a life. Hard work and intelligence go into their button pushing.  

At the World Cup, Maradona and Holland’s Bert van Marwijk have sons-in-law in the dressing room (Sergio Aguerro and Mark van Bommel). USA’s Bob Bradley has a son, Michael. Carlos Alberto Pareira, the Brazilian coach of South Africa, is a citizen of the world who has coached 25 teams, among them Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. Raymond Domenech, the woebegone French manager, considers a player’s zodiac sign before selecting him. In the past, he has not picked Robert Pires and Vikas Dhorasoo because they were Scorpio.  

Jose Mourinho, the pre-eminent coach in club football, said he would manage his country, Portugal, only from 2018, when he would be 55. He believes one has to be of a certain age before undertaking a national assignment. It is not surprising, therefore, that the star coaches at the World Cup are 60 and above. Otto Rehhagel, the German father figure of the Greek team, is 71. Carlos Alberto Parreira is 67. Fabio Capello is 64, though the Italian is beginning to look older given the performance of his team, England. Ottmar Hitzfeld, manager of Switzerland, and along with Mourinho and Ernst Happel the only man to lead two clubs to Champions League triumph, is 60. From the younger lot at the World Cup, only Germany’s Joachim Low, 50, is known for his coaching acumen. Brazil’s Dunga is three years younger and quite successful, but he has been a coach for only three years. Maradona too is not yet 50, but his popularity is due to his stature as a player, his personality and Argentina’s strong start. One defeat in the knockout phase would bring his coaching reputation crashing down.  

Most World Cup coaches were defenders in their playing careers. I could trace the playing positions of 28 of the 32 coaches at the World Cup. Of them, 18 were defenders or defensive midfielders. Maradona, Low and Paraguay’s Gerardo Martino were attacking midfielders, while Hitzfeld was the only striker. 

Their playing background reflects in their strategy and results in some inspiring tactics. It is no surprise that Maradona thought of packing his 23-man squad for South Africa with six strikers and only seven defenders. The result:  chaotic defence but a positive game. 

“Maradona has done really well, as managing at a World Cup is all about man management,” says Shebby Singh, the former Malaysian international who is on the panel of experts on ESPN Star Sports. “He praises every move, coaxes and cajoles his players and his touchy-feely favourite-uncle style has earned him respect from his players. It could have been easy for the Argentinian players to shiver in the shadow of a footballing legend. He has also been clever in giving Lionel Messi a free playmaking role while still playing with two strikers. My only grouse with Maradona is his insistence on playing Juan Veron who I feel becomes a liability with his constant desire to play the Hollywood Pass.”

Germany’s Low was not very successful as a player. Like Maradona, however, his emphasis is on attack. Of particular interest to him is the amount of time his players spend on the ball. Quick passing is his mantra. The victorious team of the 1990 World Cup, led by Lothar Mathaeus, marked a point of gradual change in German football. It started to become more exciting. At World Cup 2006, Jurgen Klinsmann added radical methods to the German mission, including watch-making and archery sessions. Low, Klinsmann’s understudy in 2006, is not as much a maverick, but is nonetheless a believer in a proactive approach.  

“Low and Bert van Marwijk (Holland) are two coaches who have impressed me,” says Gerry Armstrong, the 1982 World Cupper for Northern Ireland and ESPN Star Sports expert. “Both have been positive. Even when Germany were down to 10 men against Serbia they still attacked and looked the best team.”

Singh also gives high marks to Chile coach Marcelo Bielsa. “The Chileans have been like a breath of fresh air, playing with conventional wingers in a 4-1-2-3 formation. There is no better sight in football than watching flying wingers, and Alexis Sanchez and Jean Beausejour have created havoc.”

There is, however, a lot at stake at a World Cup. So most coaches prefer to play safe. And defensive triumphs can be inspiring too. Rehhagel, the only non-Greek to be named Greek of the Year after the country won Euro 2004, ensured the team’s qualification with a stubborn belief in his defensive tactics. Despite criticism, he continued playing five defenders in Greece’s laborious qualification campaign, knowing that at some point, there would be an opportunity to counter attack and get a goal. That is what happened in a crucial qualifier against Ukraine. While the defenders ensured the Greek citadel was safe, striker Dimitri Salpingidis pounced on a rare chance. 

Sometimes the coach is seven years old. On the last step of his Goal of the Century against England in the 1986 World Cup, with only goalkeeper Peter Shilton between him and glory, Maradona remembered, subsconsciously, the advice from his kid brother, Turco. In 1981, Maradona almost scored a similar goal against the same opponents at Wembley stadium. But instead of dodging the goalkeeper, he took a shot and missed. On the phone, Turco, 7, told Diego, 21, “You moron, you shouldn’t have side-footed it. You should have thrown a dummy.” In 1986, Diego did exactly that.

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