Are Chivas and Club America that different beyond Vergara?

In the midst of the endless scandals, resentful remarks, lies and sackings which permanently surround Chivas more or less since Jorge Vergara got married and divorced, Club America could be pictured as totally different simply by opposition. Two Liga MX titles, one Concacaf Champions League, no relegation troubles and the likes of Diego Reyes, Miguel Layún and Raúl Jiménez departing for good to Europe after completing successful cycles in Coapa. América, the brightest of sunrays; Guadalajara, the darkest of shadows.

The board headed by Ricardo Peláez (who as a striker played for both classic rivals in the nineties), however, has never been exempt of Vergara-esque controversy.  While Miguel Herrera was given up to two short tournaments of tolerance in order to build his summer of 2013 side of champions, the succeeding two America managers - Antonio Mohamed and Gustavo Matosas- were given scarce months to deliver or go away.

Just in the fashion of Florentino Pérez's Real Madrid, Peláez began talks with Matosas a year ago to replace Mohamed while El Turco was on the path for glory. Right after America finished that title's celebrations, Matosas was announced. Managing a team reinforced specifically at request of his predecessor, the Uruguayan struggled in the domestic competition but anyway achieved the berth to the Club World Cup in which the Mexican champions will face Barcelona next December. Matosas had made his own number of requests to Peláez after being painfully eliminated by Pachuca... and the America chairman politely refused them, showing Matosas the exit door.

Then, what's precisely that which differentiates the recent trajectories of Chivas and Club America? Both clubs are no models of public relations, calm, diplomacy and crisis management when things don't come their way, yet both have fared so radically different that a simple look at the relegation table tells the whole story. One could well argue that Chivas' sole reliance on Mexican talent makes them victims of a global trend of which America benefits by playing with seven or eight footballers not born in Mexico ("the team of the Americas", yelled Carlos Reinoso). That might be a legitimate claim, but nonetheless that's one claim played systematically by Jorge Vergara at trying to excuse his own poor work ethics.

Poor work ethics is of course a quintessential lubricant within the system in the Mexican league. No club is exempt, not even America. But perhaps Vergara has raised the standards of poor work ethics to new levels not known in other Liga MX clubs. Somehow, it's telling enough that Major League Soccer had to acquire the Chivas USA franchise after bad results, a shrinking fanbase, and discrimination-related scandals.  

When Vergara took over in 2002, his phrases were heard as flamboyant, audacious, exuberant and politically incorrect -which many believed a good thing to rejuvenate Mexico's top flight-. Now instead, many question Vergara's ability to handle such an important club and there are some who even question his wholesale ability to run the business which allowed him to purchase Chivas in the very first place. Are Chivas and Club America that different beyond Vergara? Not much, but Vergara is certainly an edge enough as to battle for relegation.

Sacking Klinsmann now? the case of Tabárez's Uruguay

 US Soccer always differentiated from the rest of the hemispheric national teams in terms of the durability of its technical staff. Unlike Mexico, Brazil or Argentina, sides which have had half dozens, if not complete ones, of managers throughout the past decade, the USMNT can boast to have had only Arena, Bradley and JK in charge. Path dependence is certainly a good thing from a managerial point of view in football as the staff and its leadership are given time to learn by doing, change, develop and improve.

During the nineties, old-guard world beaters Uruguay were enmeshed into mediocrity, anarchy and absolute failure at trying to qualify to any of that decade's World Cups (if Italy 1990, to which they did qualify, is taken as one from the eighties). Coaches came and went to no avail: La Celeste's exodus far from World Cups lasted 12 years until qualification happened just to endure a group-stage exit in Korea and Japan 2002 to Denmark and Senegal. After that, Uruguay's FA didn't seem to change that much and the unsuccessful path to Germany 2006 was divided between the tenures of Juan Ramón Carrasco and Jorge Fossati.

Following the loss to Australia in penalty kicks in Sidney for the WC continental playoff, Fossati remained but soon he got sacked in favor of Óscar Washington El Maestro Tabárez, whose first challenge in the national job was the 2007 edition of Copa América. There, Uruguay gained momentum and fell short to reaching that tournament's final when Dunga's Brazil beat them... in penalty kicks. As Conmebol's deadly qualifiers loomed for South Africa 2010, Tabárez began introducing young talents like Palermo's Edinson Cavani and Ajax's Luis Suárez. La Celeste finished fifth and sealed its qualification dramatically against a Costa Rican side that just needed one away goal in the continental playoff second leg in Montevideo. Anyway, Tabárez's guys made it to South Africa and the rest is well-known history.

What few see beyond the diehard style and ruthlessness of contemporary Uruguay is that Tabárez actually took the whole shop apart. El Maestro isn't only in charge of the senior squad, but also of the grassroots levels within an integrated and vertical structure of scouting, applied technology and communication with the coaches of the under-age national teams. For all of its old glory, Uruguay was almost nonexistent in junior competitions and following 2007 they can mention more than decent participations in u20 and u17 World Cups: 2007 in Canada, 2011 in Mexico, 2013 in Turkey. The durability of Tabárez's second tenure is certain to generate the path dependence and positive feedback much needed at infusing new generations with the best of the old national identities and styles of play to look forward into future.

The lesson for US Soccer is that no matter what happens in the October 10 showdown against Mexico for the ticket to the 2017 Confederations Cup, Klinsmann must remain in charge. The two successive WC qualifications of Tabárez's Uruguay were possible too with massive doses of good luck: both achieved through continental playoffs, the berth to Brazil 2014 just clinched in the Conmebol's fifth place spot as the host country was already qualified. In the almost ten years since Tabárez took over the national job, Uruguay also suffered an ignominious early exit in the 2012 London Olympics and, at the end of the day, the Uruguayan FA stuck tight with El Maestro.

Sacking Klinsmann and bringing in a new coach perhaps could provoke a rush of blood to the squad that might yield good results on a temporary basis. Those good results, however, are to be expected irrespective of the coach as the only competitive matches coming in the horizon are Concacaf WC qualifiers. Sacking Klinsmann now would equate to having sacked Tabárez after any of the many bad results Uruguay got in its respective paths to the 2010 and 2014 World Cups. If that little country's case has some thing to offer to the enormous US Soccer, that some thing is that path dependence and durability in football are good things.

MLS's underperformance in CCL shows lack of middle class

   With a starting eleven plenty of the young and inexperienced, Seattle Sounders' loss to Olimpia in Honduras shows that clubs from MLS still lack an adequate middle class to serve as cushion between the high-profile signings and the youth ranks. That middle class turns to be most compulsory if the MLS really wants to get out of its domestic bubble and poise a real threat to the Liga Mx hegemony in Concacaf.

"A Real Madrid (consisting) of Zidanes and Pavones", was the old saying during Florentino Pérez's first administration a decade ago in precise reference to that absent middle class within Madrid's squad that could come to solve the many problems of playing La Liga and Champions League simultaneously. Real Madrid lacked that: either they had the stellar likes of Zidane, Figo, Ronaldo and Beckham, or the mundane likes of Albert Celades, Francisco Pavón, Raúl Bravo or Javier Portillo. With no middle class of highly competitive and somewhat lower-profile footballers, Madrid got prematurely eliminated in several Champions League editions to clubs with such names as Marcelo Zalayeta, Juninho Pernambucano, Alberto Aquilani and Alexander Hleb.

At this stage the MLS resembles the first Real Madrid of Florentino Pérez a lot. Galaxy provides a good example: either they have the Dos Santos and the Gerrards, or the Zardes and the Villarreals. The Homegrown Player Rule -which allows MLS clubs to offer better contracts than otherwise to two designated grassroots players- indeed fosters the development of more mature and experienced members of the squad; just two HGP berths are, however, indeed too few as to build an ample and robust middle class. The case of the Panamá goalkeeper Jaime Penedo illustrates what may be considered poor management by Galaxy's decision-makers: competitive, a keeper for all seasons, way cheaper in terms of salary, and nonetheless permitted to leave for good. What are the prospects for Galaxy in this CCL with no middle class?

Traditionally, the middle class isn't developed patiently, but rather bought and brought from somewhere else. At the closing of MLS's last transfer window about a month ago, Argentina retained its top spot as the biggest purveyor of foreign talent with 26 players surpassing the 22 coming from the UK. Barring such names as Red Bulls' Gonzalo Verón and Portland Timbers' Lucas Melano, the lion's share of that Argentine bulk doesn't occupy designated places which means that they could be part of a MLS early middle class. Moreover, some Argentines who are designated players are so just nominally as they earn much, much less than others. They are Nacho Piatti ($400,000), Cristian Maidana ($217,250) or Matías Laba ($325,000), to name a few.

Middle-class players aren't patiently looked after to grow up because their function is rather to make room for the development of the promising minors: they are the already mature and experienced that can go to Honduras and play Olimpia along some youngsters and teach them the professionals' tricks in actual competitive conditions. Neither Francisco Pavón nor Javier Portillo developed properly at Real Madrid as -when playing- were charged with the massive responsibilities of wearing the Madrid badge. At the end, the policy of "Zidanes and Pavones" proved a total failure and the Spanish giant had to wait until Florentino Pérez's second tenure to lift a new Champions League trophy.

In the case of MLS, that same policy doesn't work when outside the MLS. Be it in Honduras, Costa Rica or Mexico, Concacaf now demands deeper and more experienced squads. Without that middle class, which is just beginning to form as Argentina keeps feeding the league, the MLS will certainly still struggle in the CCL.

The last all-in of La Volpe

   There's this short novel by Fyodor Dostoyevsky: The Gambler. In it, the Russian writer tells the story of a quite affluent old lady, Antonida Vasilevna, whose death is much awaited by some relatives who, while spending holidays in a German resort, casino including, need the resulting inheritance to repay gruesome debts. Vasilevna takes them by surprise showing up alive, claiming she will inherit nobody, and betting massive sums on risky numbers at the roulette. Before their frightened eyes, some bets surprisingly work and make her gain mountains of gold, some others don't and loses almost all; but finally she's certainly spending her very last days and also certainly making sure the vultures she has for relatives receive nothing.

 

The most repeated, and seemingly best, argument against a Ricardo Antonio La Volpe's return to El Tri is the one that says that he's basically a loser who has achieved nothing since his first spell nine years ago. The Argentine league title lost with his Boca Juniors side to Diego Simeone's Estudiantes, that mediocre Libertadores with Vélez Sarsfield, the unfulfilled promise of his Monterrey that Vucetich did fulfill with showers of silverware, the short spell in Costa Rica and the legal battle against the Chivas board to defend his dignity. If La Volpe had once gained mountains of praise as a reputed and meticulous coach, goes this argument, he has just lost almost all since 2006 gambling recklessly.

The above argument's biggest flaw, however, is that, while on the surface it appears to be punishing La Volpe for wining nothing, within the interior it rather punishes him for daring to try; for daring to raise the stakes.

Perhaps out of a sense of adventure and self-actualization, La Volpe went to train in Argentina in the knowledge that the Argentine first division is a true no man's land for outsiders and recently for insiders too. South American flagship managers like maestro Óscar Tabárez and Francisco Maturana failed miserably with Boca and Colón respectively. After the glow of his first years, Simeone fell out of favor with Argentine clubs and went onto exile to Italian minions Catania just before taking up Atlético de Madrid. Last year, great old glories like Carlos Bianchi and Ramón Diaz were also kicked out ruthlessly. La Volpe didn't have success there, yes, but then how many did?

When La Volpe took the Costa Rica job, many thought he would take back Los Ticos to a World Cup after the elimination of 2010. La Volpe did have a bleak 2011 Gold Cup and days later led an under-age side to Argentina for Copa América. In that same year, La Volpe announced his resignation following a row with officials. "We lost our time with La Volpe" regretted then Costa Rica Federation president, Eduardo Li, who is now jailed in Switzerland on charges of criminal conspiracy and money laundering in FIFAgate. With Costa Rica, the Argentine-born Mexican-made coach did a risky gamble by dealing with obscure officials maybe out of a wish to keep training and prove different things outside Mexico.

La Volpe needed not trying things abroad as he could either settle down into the comfortable revolving door of Liga Mx coaches or into the safe haven of a television studio.  Instead, he went overseas and, in spite of wining nothing, gave Mauro Boselli his first chances in Argentina's first division at Boca Juniors and also gave Joel Campbell the starting spot in the 2011 Copa América that made him fly to Europe.  It's true that La Volpe briefly worked for ESPN, but soon afterwards he dared to the riskiest and most dangerous bet in the Mexican league: the Chivas job. Indeed, before thinking that, by accepting Jaguares, he has already got into the Liga Mx's revolving door, one must see this acceptance as a statement of purpose and survival after both Jorge Vergara and Angélica Fuentes.

In the long nine years in which La Volpe has ventured to make uncommon bets, the football's roulette has doubtlessly not been any generous to him. In such a scenario, it's just natural some call him a wholesale loser who should retire now, and others see an example of tenacity and love for his job even at expense of risking his own reputation. What everyone, nevertheless, must see in La Volpe is a coach with the guts to gamble. At the end of the day, far more conservative coaches like Chepo or Piojo fared worse at El Tri and on-paper safe foreign bets like Sven Eriksson ended up backfiring.

Make no mistake: if allowed, Ricardo Antonio La Volpe is courageous and experienced enough to make yet another gamble. To put that last and great all-in.

La importancia del Athletic Club

No soy vasco, pero desde el 2011 comenzó mi simpatía por el Athletic Club. Desde luego mucho de ello se debió al juego valiente de esa primera temporada de Bielsa en Bilbao, aunque del club siempre me fascinó su capacidad casi milagrosa de hallar goles y goleadores en tiempos en que pareciera indispensable el gran fichaje para traerlos. Primero fue el Ismael Urzaiz de comienzos del nuevo milenio; después, el Fernando Llorente del gol cabeceado en Old Trafford y ahora este Aritz Aduriz de los cuatro al Barça. Quizá alguna vez falte portero; otras, medio campo, o acaso en algunas defensa. Pero gol, siempre. Y mucho para un club tan aferrado a sus convicciones al que tanto se le pronosticó que los tiempos modernos se lo devorarían cual leones como si leones fueran los tiempos y no los futbolistas de Lezama y San Mamés.

La importancia del Athletic consiste en contestar los dos grandes postulados del fútbol de hoy que son también axiomas de la vida, porque en el fútbol, como en cualquier otra actividad más o menos lúdica y más o menos trivial, proyectamos quiénes somos y quiénes aspiramos a ser. El primer axioma está implícito arriba y tiene qué ver con el poder que hemos otorgado al dinero; el segundo, con el valor que en cambio despojamos al esfuerzo y a la voluntad.

Durante un año di clases en secundaria y preparatoria encontrándome cada martes y miércoles con apariciones masivas de camisetas de clubes de élite europea entre las que predominaron siempre por acá y por allá, arriba y abajo, a diestra y siniestra, en chicas y en chicos, las de los dos grandes de España. El verano en que el uno ganó la Champions y el otro la perdió dio pie, al uno para el beneplácito sin cuartel y al otro para el gasto sin frenos. Y viceversa al verano siguiente. De algún modo, tal vorágine entrega un mensaje perverso al oído joven precisamente por lo voraginoso de su discurso: la derrota que se vuelve fracaso que se vuelve crisis que se vuelve tragedia que se soluciona gastando, trayendo caros a los nuevos y echando a la calle viejos a los culpados. Con el Athletic eso no puede ocurrir: falla un pase San José, suelta un centro Iraizoz, la cintura de Balenziaga es castigada por un regate imposible de Messi, la pelota pasa entre las piernas de De Marcos ya que el caño fue de Cristiano, el marcador acaba abultado... y el Athletic sigue siendo el Athletic. Los jugadores maduros y lentos se quedan, los jóvenes e inexpertos suben y se les unen.  Mientras todos corran y no paren de correr para atacar y defender, todos juegan. Si el gran fichaje pudiese hacerse ¿qué caso tendría de cualquier modo? ¿es que los problemas graves de la gente común en la vida cotidiana se resuelven como por arte de magia echándoles dinero encima?

Si viendo camisetas por los pasillos de una escuela me di cuenta de la importancia del Athletic como contestatario al poder que dimos al dinero, jugando fútbol con los colegas caí en la cuenta que el Athletic reivindica el valor que nosotros injustamente despojamos al esfuerzo y a la voluntad. Las demasiadas repeticiones y encuadres cerrados y acercamientos a la jugada fantasiosa, al golpeo magistral, al firulete y a la celebración pletórica en éxtasis esconden lo que el galáctico y la pulga dejan de hacer cuando no tienen el balón. La toma panorámica del campo de juego -la más aburrida para el televidente que ve hormiguitas y aborrecida por el director de cámaras que busca constante el vértigo y el melodrama- es no obstante la que captura la esencia toda del fútbol y de paso señala al egoísta, al apático, al pecho-frío y al holgazán. Expulsada la toma panorámica, son las cámaras arácnidas, las súper-lentas y las de detrás de las porterías y de los tiros de esquina las que engendran esa moral bizarra que castiga el error producido por intentar hacer las cosas y deja impunes las negligencias. La más grande de todas, jugar caminando. Se intenta el regate: bien si sale; si no, a regresar al galope. Caminando nunca. Aduriz, serás muy Aduriz, goleador y estrella, pero los córners en contra los bajas a defender, la salida de los centrales rivales debes presionarla e irás por arriba a competir todos los pelotazos hasta más no poder. Y Aduriz lo hace, porque si no ellos pierden, por eso Aduriz es híbrido de caudillo y rematador. Daniel Pasarella y Gabriel Batistuta al mismo tiempo.

En la vieja tradición de estirpe ganadora del Athletic, sus aficionados juegan la parte que les corresponde haciendo pesar San Mamés y son recompensados con la salida de la gabarra cuando el club alcanza títulos. Los 31 años de sequía y las tristezas -especialmente ésa de la final europea perdida contra el Atlético de Madrid en Bucarest con Bielsa en la banca- harían pensar en una afición impaciente hasta la desesperación por sacar la gabarra y festejar sea como sea sin mayor deliberación en el éxtasis pletórico y el beneplácito sin cuartel de aquéllos que verano con verano deben echarse a la celebración o hundirse en la vorágine. Sin embargo, el Athletic jugó la Supercopa sin ser campeón de nada y esto es sabido por los bilbaínos. La jugó por mera burocracia y absurdo protocolo a pesar de ganarla ya sobre el césped con margen y autoridad. La idea, de un gran número de los seguidores, es no sacar la gabarra para preservar el espíritu de una celebración mítica que hace décadas correspondió a títulos ligueros y a torneos de copa conquistados jornada tras jornada, eliminatoria tras eliminatoria, auténtica y no protocolariamente. Pese a osar el debut en el cuadro titular a futbolistas venidos de la tercera y segunda división como Merino y Eraso frente al Goliat blaugrana de Europa, lo del Athletic fue sólo la consecución de un acto de justicia deportiva que dejó para su afición el acto de heroísmo puro al abstenerse de sacar la gabarra y aguardar paciente a lo bueno por venir.

Contestados los postulados modernos del poder dado al dinero y despojado al esfuerzo y a la voluntad, el Athletic también contesta y refuta un tercer postulado sobre la impaciencia, la incapacidad de perseverar y esperar. Durante esos días como profesor, mucho recibí en términos de burla y/o compasión -siempre desde la gentileza y el cariño de mis entonces alumnos- por simpatizar con el Athletic en momentos de vacas flacas esperando a las vacas gordas. En esos mismos días también dejé en claro que en mis clases no habría lugar para soluciones mágicas ni para la pereza o la apatía y que si querían pasar el semestre tendrían que poner manos a la obra. Porque dentro del salón, y también sobre el césped, siempre intenté proyectar mi simpatía por el Athletic Club y la importancia de lo que éste representa.

Wanchope: Costa Rica's self-destruction

   Paulo César Wanchope's resignation from managing the Costa Rica national team following his street-fighting in Panamá is but the last episode in that side's saga of tragic self-destruction.

Saliently enough, the most common remarks made by Costa Ricans immediately after the last World Cup's feats against both Uruguay and Italy were recriminations to journalists and federation politicians back home. In those post-match interviews in Salvador da Bahia and Recife, the likes of Celso Borges and Yeltsin Tejeda did mention their own hard work and endless self-belief, but did so only after lambasting those who disbelieved and actually benefited personally from them. Jorge Luis Pinto, the Colombian coach now in Honduras, took every chance he had to speak by mouthfuls what now seems credible about then Costa Rican Federation president Eduardo Li.

Downplayed by the lengthy corruption records of Jack Warner, Jeffrey Webb and Chuch Blazer, the name of Eduardo Li has drawn proportionally little media attention perhaps as consequence of his name being quoted just 17 times within the pages of the US Department of Justice's indictment against nine FIFA officials (Warner's name appears 47 times; Blazer's, under the title of "Co Conspirator #1", 50 times). According to the Attorney General's Office, which charges Li with racketeering and wire-fraud conspiracies, the former president of the Costa Rican Federation had personally solicited for cash in exchange of the broadcasting rights of home World Cup qualifiers. Point number 202 of the indictment says: "During the negotiations, LI asked Co Conspirator #4 for a six-figure bribe in exchange for his agreement to award the contract to Traffic USA. After obtaining approval within Traffic, Co-Conspirator #4 agreed to the payment and caused it to be made." At the moment, Li remains on Swiss soil fighting extradition.

What should have been the triggering moment towards further greatness for a small Central-American nation became instead the beginning of political dogfights and footballing misery. Costa Ricans can legitimately argue that their national team's quarter-finals exit from the 2015 Gold Cup was due to poor, if not overtly bad intentioned, refereeing against Mexico with the award of that last minute penalty kick, but up to that game Costa Rica remained the gray shadow of the 2014 side: unable to defeat Canada, El Salvador and Jamaica. Involution.

Things to come within Costa Rica's near future equally appear full of gloom and doom. Los Ticos have been seeded in the qualifying Group of Death with likely rivals being Jamaica, Panama and Haiti. All three teams manifested bigger tactical cohesion and organization and will surely pose a serious threat to great, but now unmanaged, Costa Rican stars such as Keylor Navas, Joel Campbell, Giancarlo González, Bryan Ruiz and promising youngster David Ramírez. 

Perhaps the short, unknown -oblivious to matters of height and weight- guy who dare to punch and kick Wanchope comes as the perfect analogy of things to come for Costa Rica: any former minion will compete on the pitch against a now dispirited and disarrayed Costa Rica. Times in San José resemble less the face of Celso Borges after beating Italy and more the face of Eduardo Li behind bars in Zurich.

Is there a Marcelo Bielsa alchemy formula for El Tri?

 Reading the many accounts of Bielsa’s almost scientific methods from British and Spanish journalisms, one gets to think that the Argentine tactician is some sort of alchemist whose formula lifts the same virtues and plunges into the same flaws everywhere he goes. “Bielsa comes in, players first seem to struggle with his revolutionary ideas, then seem to understand them, the squad thus starts playing exhilarating football, fatigue comes and finally all falls into pieces”.

Managing a top-flight club at domestic and international competitions is of course quite different from managing a national team. The former implies daily on-pitch work and the latter implies more observation and paperwork: that’s why Louis van Gaal left the Dutch job to take the reins at Manchester United and that’s why Josep Guardiola seems reluctant to take a national side yet. They both feel energetic enough as to keep going to the training camp, make experiments and deal with pressure day in and day out. Bielsa, theoretically, is the perfect man for a national side and that’s why Mexico wants him.

But such thirst for Bielsa in the Mexican federation obeys the misleading stereotype of Bielsa as a coach with one proven formula that made miracles in Chile, Bilbao and Marseille. Under this light -and excusing the musical metaphor- hiring Bielsa equates to something of buying a Luis Miguel’s album: everyone knows every Luis Miguel album contains exactly the same in terms of great solo voices, love lyrics, ballad rhythms and Frank Sinatra remakes. Luis Miguel’s fans adore them precisely because they know the proven formula, know what to expect and anyway like it. But Bielsa’s tactics and methods are no formula and with him certainly we don’t know what to expect.

In 2007, Bielsa badly needed the Chile job to reinvigorate his career after the ominous passage of the 2002 World Cup with Argentina that couldn’t be entirely vindicated by the 2004 olympic gold medal. Harold Mayne-Nicholl’s Chilean Federation needed Bielsa and Bielsa needed Harold Mayne-Nicholl’s Chilean Federation. Bielsa then could work over the basis of Claudio Borghi’s Colo-Colo with youngsters such as Alexis Sánchez, Arturo Vidal, Claudio Bravo, Jorge Valdivia and Humberto Suazo. In the Basque country during the summer of 2011, Bielsa was part of Josu Urrutia’s presidential bid to Athletic de Bilbao and the first season the man from Rosario created the most courageous mid-table club across Europe beating United at Old Trafford and staging an epic match against Guardiola’s finest Barcelona in the old San Mamés. Unable to retain or line-up Athletic’s best players -Javi Martínez and Fernando Llorente- his squad began to fade into mediocrity. Seemingly, Olympique de Marseille was lured by the stereotype of the alchemist’s formula without signing Bielsa’s required footballers and without retaining the flagships of that first season: Payet, Ayew, Gignac and Imbula. Today Marseille is headless in the technical direction. Needless to say, the three teams played completely different tactics and strands of football through very different paths.

The Mexican federation, an organization well renowned by the shallowness and improvisation of its decision-making, seems, like Marseille, yet another board lured by the stereotype of the alchemist’s formula. Former Mexico boss Javier Aguirre declared that Bielsa called him to get to know the Japanese federation after being offered Aguirre’s former post in Tokyo. It’s also true that Saudi Arabia looked for Bielsa this summer and finally got World Cup runner-up Alejandro Sabella instead. For all of his ‘craziness’, Bielsa seems the first to be acquainted of the effect his stereotype exerts over headless boards. For El Tri fans now led into the Bielsa saga, unlike Luis Miguel fans, all is very uncertain and nobody actually knows what to expect.