Mourinho: In defence of the Special One

Few footballing figures of recent times have so polarised the opinions of fans and media alike as Jose Mourinho. At his very first press conference after being unveiled as Chelsea's new manager in June 2004, when referring to himself as a 'special one' and remarking that "we have top players and, sorry if I'm arrogant, we have a top manager", it was clear something truly different had arrived in English football: and as his team proceeded to take the Premiership by storm, smashing the Manchester United/Arsenal duopoly which had held sway for much of the previous decade, the fascination of many observers continued to lie not so much in his utterly dominant side, as in Mourinho himself. Many accomplished managers have preferred to allow their players to hog the limelight, but not the extraordinary Portugese: whether perched by the touchline in a particularly sharp suit, or indulging in psychological mind games with rival managers, Mourinho represented his own personal revolution. Thanks to him, football management was now suddenly as glamorous and sexy as being a top player: indeed, to adopt a phrase once employed regarding Bill Clinton, men wanted to be him, while women wanted to be with him.

Of course, his apparent arrogance (though in reality, it has rarely been anything more than immense self-confidence) would have seen him come a spectacular cropper had his team not delivered as swiftly as it did: not that there was ever much danger of that under such a shrewd operator. Mourinho landed the Chelsea job on the back of his astonishing Champions League triumph with Porto, who remain the only club from outside Europe's true elite to have taken the crown since the competition's expansion at the turn of the decade: and the methods he had used to achieve such success in Portugal were quickly brought to bear at Stamford Bridge.

Above all, he demanded relentless hard work and an 'all for one' attitude from his players, with anyone not prepared to toe the line (such as Hernan Crespo or Adrian Mutu) quickly shown the exit door. Blessed with an unprecedented degree of spending power thanks to owner Roman Abramovich's largesse, the manager was nothing if not mindful of what had occurred over the preceding decade at Internazionale, and was beginning to happen at Real Madrid too: with expensively-assembled star players falling out with their coach and indeed themselves, and forming destructive, ego-ridden cliques which had a ruinous impact on morale and team spirit. Given the extraordinary levels of remuneration, to say nothing of the lavish lifestyles enjoyed by today's top players, it has arguably never been more difficult for a manager of an elite club to motivate his team in order to win matches and trophies: and moreover, with his enormous budget came a very high level of expectation from his board too: nothing less than the Blues' first Championship in fifty years, and in time, the European Cup as well, would suffice.

Mourinho, in other words, may have faced very different demands from those occupying the attention of the vast majority of his fellow managers throughout England's four divisions: but in their own way, these were just as difficult and challenging. Particularly astute was his desire to maintain a relatively shallow squad, with just two top players competing for each position: again, a strategy followed in order to prevent the kind of trouble which bloated, bickering units had created in Milan and Madrid, and had led to years of underachievement at Barcelona prior to Frank Rijkaard's appointment there as coach. He also adopted a relatively simple playing system of 4-5-1/4-3-3 (albeit one he could swiftly change during a match should circumstances demand it), which was at its most effective when Arjen Robben and Damien Duff provided speed and width from the flanks: and ultimately, this system swept all before it, was emulated by rival managers across the Premiership, and provided a secure structure from which Chelsea cantered to two successive titles.

Of course, once it became clear that the Blues' pre-eminence was likely to last, and they were no longer perceived merely as a 'breath of fresh air', public attitudes to the coach quickly began to change. Now, his frequently provocative comments - almost always made in the name of getting under the skin of rival managers and especially of deflecting pressure away from his players and onto him - began to infuriate, rather than amuse: and certainly, it must be acknowledged that he hardly helped himself at times. In accusing referee Anders Frisk of colluding with Rijkaard during half-time of the first leg of the tempestuous Champions League tie against Barce in 2005, yelling obscenities at Liverpool players during the Carling Cup Final the following month, droning on endlessly about how the same opponents' winner in that season's European Cup semi-final was 'not a goal' (always while neglecting to mention that had it been disallowed, Chelsea would have been reduced to ten men with almost the entirety of the second leg still to play, not to mention the highly dubious legality of John Terry's decisive goal against the Catalan giants two rounds earlier), and arguably worst of all, making disgraceful insinuations regarding Reading's Stephen Hunt's entirely accidental challenge on Petr Cech earlier this season (not to mention utterly unsubstantiated allegations about the quality and speed of the Berkshire club's medical response), Mourinho has all too often completely crossed the line: and appeared to many observers as though he wanted to win at all costs, regardless of who was hurt or trampled upon in the process.

Equally though, it is difficult to see how, in the case of such an inimitable, complex character, we could get one without getting the other: with Mourinho, it is surely a question of accepting the good along with the bad. For as well as the deeply unsavoury behaviour outlined above, the manager has often demonstrated both humour and a highly perceptive intelligence during interviews and when holding forth at press conferences: a stark contrast from the all-too-predictable platitudes invariably offered by his colleagues. And away from the pressures of football, he is actually a thoroughly decent man, who has done a lot of unreported work for charity, and has often credited his happy family life for providing the grounding he - indeed, we all - need(s) in order to succeed.

In essence, the key to understanding Mourinho is to see that, in his view, management is all a game: and while he is often guilty of playing that game too hard, there is no question that he does it extremely well. Moreover, this writer will be arguing later in the year that, if England are to stand a chance of at last winning a major international competition, its footballing culture needs profoundly to change. The Chelsea manager's emphasis on caution, and especially the theatrical antics of players like Robben and Didier Drogba, have often exasperated; but arguably, until the English club game fully embraces that which has been pursued for decades both on the continent and in South America, the national team will surely continue to come up short: whether in being wound up by macchiavellian Portugese or Argentine opponents, or in its tactical and technical deficiencies being exposed by Brazilians or Italians. Mourinho is simply a product of his footballing culture: and given it is one which has provided arguably the world's best manager, not to mention a national team which has eliminated England from both the last two major tournaments, it is a bit rich to start lecturing others on the virtues of 'fair play'.

In the opinion of this correspondent, it is necessary to outline the above in such detail because, in football just as in life, we often don't realise what we have until it is gone. And, as is increasingly clear both from reports in the press over recent weeks, not to mention his alarmingly pale, drawn appearance, not only does the Chelsea board plainly not realise what it has, but Mourinho will indeed soon be gone: if not within the next few weeks, then certainly come the summer. Almost from the outset of his third, and far and away most troubled season in charge, there has been the sense that something was different: not merely in the occasional vulnerability of his team, but in the mounting perception that he was being increasingly undermined from above. Abramovich craves Champions League success above all else; and although the coach's desire for an efficient playing system, and to avoid recruiting the kind of star players who could imperil the squad's morale, had been entirely vindicated domestically, there was a clear sense that Chelsea plainly lacked something extra when eliminated by Barce in last season's competition.

Moreover, both Abramovich and chief executive Peter Kenyon have their sights set ultimately on hegemony within the global footballing marketplace: and Chelsea's style, which while effective, can be painful to watch at times, paled in comparison with international competitors such as Barcelona or Manchester United. So last summer, the owner began to enforce an apparent change of strategy which, however well-intentioned it may have been, bore worrying overtones to that which turned Real Madrid into a laughing stock under Florentino Perez' chronically misguided command. Both Michael Ballack and Andriy Shevchenko were acquired, the latter plainly thanks in no small part to his wife's close relationship with Abramovich's wife: but it seems doubtful in the extreme whether Mourinho was genuinely happy about it. Moreover, control over Chelsea's transfer policy gradually started to slip away from the manager, and towards Frank Arnesen, the club's Sporting Director: almost imperceptibly, individuals who were critical to the club's continued upward mobility were now pulling in different directions.

Both Ballack and Shevchenko have, so far at least, proved extremely expensive flops; but in order to incorporate them, Mourinho was forced to abandon not only his preferred 4-5-1, but also his profound belief that the only star should be the team itself. Sven-Goran Eriksson's time in charge of England was undone by his unfathomable, self-defeating desire to pick the best individuals, rather than the best team: now Mourinho appeared to be doing the same, although whether it was his idea in the first place is the real question here. Indeed, the rather curious 4-1-3-2 which was often deployed as a result (as opposed to a simple 4-4-2, which would at least have continued to place an emphasis on width) seemed to this observer to be a calculated attempt by the manager to draw attention to the fact that this system wasn't what he wanted: others had forced it upon him.

And while Mourinho has continued to express public support for the still under-performing Ballack, he has clearly come to view Shevchenko as both appallingly lazy, and a drain on team morale. Hence his desire for a new striker to be signed during the transfer window: which, astonishingly, his board rebuffed. According to reports from a variety of this weekend's newspapers, proposals to either recruit Tottenham's Jermain Defoe in a swap deal with Shaun Wright-Phillips, or merely loan Milan Baros from Aston Villa, were blocked by a group of directors infuriated that the club had fallen behind Manchester United in this season's title race, and who instead instructed the manager to play Shevchenko in a 'proper manner'. To make matters worse, in order to help the misfiring Ukrainian, the board proposed that Mourinho's assistant, Steve Clarke (not only a highly trusted and loyal deputy, but a favourite of the fans thanks to his long, dedicated service as a player) be dismissed, with a Russian-speaking Israeli coach (presumably Avraham Grant, currently working at Portsmouth) appointed in his place.

Hardly surprisingly, an infuriated Mourinho baulked at such a suggestion: if Clarke was to go, he would do so too. He was also disappointed in his entirely correct demands for central defensive cover to be brought in for his injured captain, Terry. Deals for Micah Richards, Oguchi Onweyu and Jorge Andrade were all knocked back: and only the Brazilian international, Alex, was offered instead. But this was because Alex was a favourite of Arnesen's: he has never been rated by Mourinho, and having been burned already by Shevchenko's acquisition, he was not about to be so again.

What is astonishing about all this is the Chelsea board's apparent belief that they somehow know better than their manager. Mourinho would hardly be likely to offer Abramovich business advice; yet his directors still seem prepared to dictate to a coach who has won four consecutive championships, the European Cup, the UEFA Cup, and has not lost a league match at home in well over four years. Kenyon, who recently travelled to China in order to launch the club's first website in Mandarin, has Mourinho to thank for the international recognition which the club now enjoys: to lose him would all too easily begin to threaten the project which both Abramovich and the chief executive have prioritised: namely, to turn Chelsea into the world's leading club.

Many reading this will doubtless wonder what all the fuss is about. Surely, a man who has been blessed up to now with a budget which dwarfs those of his rivals, has simply been told that it is not a bottomless pit, and is merely now subject to the same restraints with which all other managers in England have to work under? But no club can possibly succeed on the pitch amid a climate of turmoil and broken relationships off it; and no manager, whoever he might be, can work effectively when his decisions are continually being undermined.

Reports over the New Year suggested that Mourinho was given a severe boardroom dressing down simply for the crime of presiding over his first indifferent spell of results during his time at the helm: but however much money it might spend, the reality is that no club in one of Europe's most competitive leagues can possibly win the title ad infinitum. Motivation and form levels inevitably dip, rivals catch up and enjoy periods of brilliant form themselves, and injuries to key players occur too.

United's rampaging domestic form thus far this season has been close to revelatory: yet just as an injury to Roy Keane midway through 1997/8 proved pivotal in Arsenal having the chance to wrest the Premiership crown from Old Trafford, so arguably the single most important moment of the entire campaign to date was Cech's injury at Reading. At least Mourinho had an accomplished reserve in Carlo Cudicini, but he immediately became a victim too: and how can any manager possibly plan for having both his main two goalkeepers forced out of action? If the third choice 'keeper was genuinely top class, he'd already be playing for another club in the first place: and all the manager could do was entrust his faith in Henrique Hilario, who while certainly giving his all, has proved out of his depth, and plainly affected the confidence of the defenders in front of him too.

That Mourinho can actually be blamed by his board for an entirely unforeseeable chain of events - one which, lest we forget, has also seen injuries to Terry and Joe Cole - takes one's breath away. In reality, it is remarkable that his side has continued to pick up as many points as it has: with Drogba's irresistible form as strong a testament of his manager's excellent coaching as the progress of players such as Terry, Cole, Robben, Cech and Frank Lampard has been in preceding seasons. It should also be remembered that the squad's morale has been undermined by a decision taken, at least in part, from outside Mourinho's sphere of influence: and with Shevchenko at last dropped yesterday in a direct challenge to the board, the result was a 4-0 victory over an admittedly weak Wigan side, and the Blues' best performance in many weeks.

Reports this morning suggest Mourinho's brilliant attempt to emulate Claudio Ranieri and win the sympathy vote of both his fans and the public at large have won the day: that Abramovich has been faced down, and the manager will be allowed to bring in a central defender at least, and perhaps a striker too. It would also be entirely in keeping with his career thus far if the manager - who thrives upon creating siege mentalities in much the same way as Sir Alex Ferguson has continually done both at United and Aberdeen - is now able to galvanise his squad so effectively that they both hunt down Ferguson's team in the league, and deliver Abramovich's longed for Champions League triumph too: indeed, Mourinho is clearly motivated above all by the prospect of lifting the European Cup with clubs from Portugal, England, Italy and Spain, before ending his career by leading his country to its first world title.

Nevertheless, it is now impossible to envisage him remaining at Stamford Bridge beyond the season's end; and as the Chelsea board may well discover, there is no guarantee at all that whoever succeeds him will enjoy anything like the same levels of success. Indeed, there is a growing contradiction between their goal of transforming the Blues into the biggest club in the world with a desire to cut costs: given the historical and commercial advantages which clubs such as Real Madrid, Barcelona and Manchester United will inevitably continue to enjoy, how can the former possibly be achieved if the latter is put into practice too? And in any case, it is arguably Abramovich and Kenyon's obsession with marketing the club more effectively - and hence, in signing internationally-renowned players such as Shevchenko and Ballack - which created all this in the first place.

Whether he moves to Real or Inter, Mourinho will doubtless continue to prosper: he is simply too good a manager not to. But in his absence, Chelsea supporters will be left with the worrying realisation that Abramovich's ultimate goal is bound to be thwarted if a new strategy of promoting players from within is embarked upon. And if the owner realises he cannot achieve what he above all desires, what then? That he has already been prepared to undermine such a brilliant manager is alarming enough: unless he learns from his mistakes, and leaves the running of the team to its coach, the club could quite easily begin to encounter difficulties which would make its recent handful of disappointing results look like what a more sensible board should have always regarded them as in the first place: a picnic. If Abramovich genuinely believes that another manager can be expected to operate under such pressure, while still being expected to deliver championship after championship, one thing is certain: he will be in for a very rude shock.