If Jose Mourinho is wrong, right – with whom I initially fell out in late 1991 – may well have lost my support for good. Football without Mourinho may as well not bother anymore. Football without Mourinho is tenuous narratives and questions of why, exactly, this, this and this matters – when none of it does.
According to those who would know, Mourinho is, ‘destroying Spanish football,’ and ‘outside of the spirit of the game,’ and – the old ones are the best – ‘an enemy to football.’ All correct. But look at the state of modern football. It deserves enemies.
A flicked wrist and pokey finger engaged the world’s ersatz anger button: Mourinho’s eye-gouge on Barcelona’s number two humped column inches for days. There are two ways of looking at the incident, not that you would know it from the blather: the first, that Mourinho was reckless and dangerous; the second, it was fun. And that’s even before mentioning his denial of the victim’s existence afterwards.
Amongst ten thousand shades of grey, all of which still manage to resemble shit, the Technicolor that the narcissist lunging off Real Madrid’s bench gives us are more than just light relief, they’re the only real stories we get. Though the men charged with writing 900 words every Sunday work diligently to turn Sir Alex Ferguson’s empty words and Arsene Wenger’s white lies into attractive prose and genuine conflict – there is, for the most part: healthy respect, kind regard or carefully guarded in football today – none of which makes for a thriller.
Mourinho does. What’s he got? Dissidence, smears and brash celebrations: the real, dirty, nasty conflict. The irony is that a media so comfortable making up their own stories now fears the real story. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the middle aged, middle class comfort zone: it would rather create its own mavericks – the Martin O’Neil, who says clever things, even the Wayne Rooney, who plays a cutting through ball. Mourinho makes our media men uncomfortable because he isn’t always in control. In a move outlawed a very long time ago, sometimes…he just does what he wants.
Mourinho made Alex Ferguson uncomfortable. The result? A Manchester United resurgence which hadn’t been coming; a Champions League win, some of the best football at that club in years.
Uncomfortable isn’t good – it’s essential. The popular lethargy movement calling itself the Premier League needs uncomfortable back. Those who fell off The Special One bandwagon after Eye-Gouge-Gate because it went too far “this time”, never deserved membership – gouging the eye, expressing the conspiracy theory, all with a clinical nonchalance, are what Mourinho is.
That though, falls well short of the bottom line. Sneering at Barcelona and occasional violence are worthy pursuits but not enough: football thirsts for Mourinho because the emotional extremes are just the tantalising starter, setting up a coach who happens to be the best there is for a more substantial two-fingered salute. After this season, he will have won the European Cup with three different teams, something that no other coach has ever done – or if they have, I’m not interested in looking it up.
Behind the facade, there’s a coach who has had the players of FC Porto, Chelsea, Inter Milan and Real Madrid ready to take a bullet for him. At Porto, his Champions League win was one of the biggest shocks of the 2000s, perhaps only surpassed by the fact that Steve Irwin, a man who poked animals for a living was killed in a freak incident involving one. At Chelsea, league titles arrived for the first time in 50 years, whilst European Cup failure came only as an unfortunate result of the John Terry Rule: John Terry is not allowed to lift or touch the European Cup.
Then there was the glorious resurrection at and of Inter. Forget the league wins, when his first season at the club passed with a flimsy run in Europe there were murmurs about a lost touch; when he lifted the European Cup for a second time a year later, there were not. He also chinned a journalist.
Inter had no right to win that trophy – Barcelona gave them a seeing to in the group stage and put them in what should have been their place. Mourinho wasn’t having it though, it was Mourinho’s win: Mourinho’s inch-perfect tactics against Chelsea, the confidence which came from Mourinho against Bayern Munich in the final and above all else Mourinho’s abject refusal to allow Barcelona past him in the semi-final. Football world: two fingers up. Next, please: Real Madrid.
His team are closer than any other to those Catalan smirks and he’s already nabbed one trophy, but he and his team have more to give us – Sergio Ramos actually threw the Spanish Cup under a bus in disgust at having won only it. No, the signs are there, Mourinho won’t be happy until Barcelona are disembowelled.
And that’s why we need him. Barcelona’s monopoly needs the board thrown from the table – someone needs to be hated. Mourinho makes the story and when he ends up writing history, rest assured he’ll go down as the man who’s made the ball worth kicking for the last ten years, not Barcelona.