The tactics of Juan Carlos Osorio

British journalist Carl Worswick has it at the Guardian pages that Juan Carlos Osorio used to prowl and spy Gerard Houllier's Liverpool during his stay at Britain completing a university degree. Osorio had managed to rent a room in a flat neighboring the club's training facilities and would wake up early to watch and take notes for almost two years. His English days -the Man City spell in particular- would make of him such a meticulous trainer concerned with keeping his players fresh and healthy by rotating his lineups systematically. "I would die for the opportunity to one day manage there."  

Come the chance to take the Mexico job, the name of Osorio says far too little for several Mexican players and commentators who have been as quick to confess they knew nothing on him as to openly attack his signing. In order to know tactically speaking who is Osorio,  his 'British' upbringing tells just as much as his 'Colombian' stride, being runner-up to Marcelo Gallardo's River Plate, both in Copa Sudamericana and Libertadores.

Is Osorio a staunch pragmatist tailored in the fashion of the early Premier League in which 4-4-2 was the golden standard, speed and quality the only variables, and results all that were to be sought for? or is he a progressive Latin American ideologist who likes his squads to attack constantly through a possession style?

The actual answer is that he rotates himself between the pragmatist and the ideologist. The semifinal victory with his Atlético Nacional against Brazilian giants Sao Paulo FC for Copa Sudamericana got locked into a midfield battle in both legs and thus had to be decided in penalty kicks (which then was remarkable as the Paulistas counted with better individuals). The two-legged final against River Plate was a battle equally deaf and gridlocked in midfield only decided through the Argentine ruthlessness in set pieces. In that respect, Juan Carlos Osorio is a cold calculator who understands that direct elimination stages demand organization and physicality: if you can't beat the opposition straight away, then remain competitive and wear them out in the middle of the pitch, not in your own box.

The group stage of the last Copa Libertadores, however, enabled Osorio to deploy his side in full capacity at playing enthralling, vibrant football. There was this match in Medellín against Ecuadorean Barcelona de Guayaquil in which Osorio fielded a three-man defensive line and -instead of flanking it with wing-backs who theoretically have primary defensive duties- flanked it with attacking wingers pushed so high up as to widen the pitch and jail rivals in their own box: a de facto 3-3-4 hardly seen in any Premier League side. Atlético Nacional aesthetically executed their high-speed combination game, but, truth be told, got exposed by the Ecuadorean wingers who needed little to wreck havoc and the score hence ended in a 2-3 defeat for Atlético Nacional. For the next match, in La Plata against an Estudiantes side which also used a three-man defensive line, Osorio went pragmatic with a conservative formation that scrapped and had the vital three points from Argentina. That's Osorio: able to fathom all possibilities.

There's also a feature that might make Osorio a Latin American romantic: his reliance on enganches or old-school playmakers. From Edwin Cardona, Sherman Cárdenas and Yulián Mejía at Atlético Nacional to Paulo Henrique Ganso at Sao Paulo FC, Osorio likes that one kind of player not seen at all in the Premier League who dismantles a packed defense (like the ones Mexico will face for World Cup qualifiers) either with a through-ball or a long-range shot. Will Osorio find a Mexican able to play enganche in a possession-oriented squad?

The tactics of Osorio are so complex that they do escape the reach of traditional Mexican football punditry insofar as this is a man who rotates between the European and Latin American diverse schools of play. His rotations and experiments will certainly cause unconformity, but, all in all, this seems a coach flexible enough as to understand the difference between strategies needed for elimination stages, group stages, and scenarios posed by a Concacaf hex: the very same hex where counterattacking and conservative Mexican coaches have proven short of flexibility.

Osorio's signing is already testing how flexible (or inflexible) Mexican football is.

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.

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.

The MLS is what Giovani Dos Santos makes of it

  Barring the Miguel Herrera scandal, the biggest concern for Mexican media in Giovani Dos Santos's first presser as Galaxy player was the likelihood of a slump in form as consequence of landing in the MLS. Having plied his trade for a decent Spanish club the last two seasons, the argument goes, Gio's play would now dip and jeopardize his hitherto regular call-ups for El Tri. "I just don't see how playing here would affect my international caps", said the eldest of the Dos Santos brothers.

Indeed, much of the MLS-equal-to-a-step-behind-for-Giovani reasoning is rooted within what might be called football's realpolitik: the politics of reality in football. Are Sevilla, Valencia or Villarreal better squads than Galaxy? Yes, therefore: the MLS represents one step behind for the Mexican forward. Is Real Madrid better than Stoke City or West Ham? Yes, therefore: Chicharito must be loaned without further discussion to Madrid (no matter how scarce the odds are for regular play). Football's realpolitik framed the debate in Mexico between supporters and skeptics of Chicharito's move last season and, in perspective, we can conclude that going into a big club in a big league is no straight synonym of big news and great things for every player.

Instead, clubs and leagues are what players make of them. As little as a year ago, many of the MLS's new high-profile signings well into their thirties were regulars at Champions League or Premier League clubs. Those players were able to extend their careers for years amongst the finest of the European game first and foremost because they're great professionals who placed their talents over the basis of constancy, consistency and hard work. After all, a move to MLS should be analyzed through case-by-case optics.

"Yes, Pirlo and company are great professionals who -like Robbie Keane already does- will surely put up their best for their new clubs, but nonetheless they're old players who, implicitly if not explicitly, are done with international football, unlike younger Gio Dos Santos", a good rebuttal may be. In such a case, Giovani's MLS career would be better compared to those of American players who, like Giovani, plied their trade at decent European clubs with mixed fortunes before being lured by lucrative contracts and starting spots. Clint Dempsey was a Premier League regular for Fulham and achieved glorious things while in London like his goal against Juventus in 2010 and the one against United at Old Trafford for Tottenham; Michael Bradley was a regular too for Borussia Monchengladbach in the Bundesliga and later Rudi García gave him good minutes when in Rome; Jozy Altidore, on the other hand, netted constantly in the Eredivisie but his stay in Sunderland was a failure. Case-by-case optics.

Mexican media and punditry will do well if for once they avoid using football's realpolitik at assessing a move between clubs and leagues. Much bland speaking was used a year ago from those cheering the Javier Hernández loan to Real Madrid to lambast and mock those skeptical about it. In any case, the MLS career of Gio Dos Santos will in all likelihood resemble the European career of Gio Dos Santos: moments of flare and sublime inspiration, and long spells of inconsistency and injury. The MLS will be what Gio makes of it.

The end of Miguel Herrera as that of Jay Gatsby

The last chapters of Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby depict the toil of Nick Carraway at attempting to give Gatsby's body a decent funeral. No one, from the streams of visitors that had flooded Gatsby's mansion during his many parties, cared to show up and say a last goodbye to the otherwise mysterious playboy. 'They were careless people', mourned Carraway at such a desolation.

The tragedy of Miguel Herrera at El Tri can well be compared to that of Mr. Gatsby if one takes into account that both characters share personal histories of truly humble past whose rising star eventually -and temporarily- made them famed, rich and beloved by everyone. The tale of the self-made men. Coming from a poor town in Hidalgo, Herrera made a football career as a diehard defender for Mexican clubs typically identified with the working classes like Atlante and Toros Neza. Fitzgerald is said to have based Gatsby on the story of Greek slave Trimalchio, who legally obtains liberty and through hard work amasses incredible wealth that subsequently squanders giving lavish banquets to impress his guests.

"¡Hay tiro! ¡Hay tiro!" shouted a cheerful Paul Aguilar using a country parlance which equates to something like "Let's get ready to rumble!" when his now former boss approached pundit Christian Martinoli at the immigration and customs spot somewhere between Philadelphia and Monterrey. Aguilar, known for his exuberant goal celebrations and his tendency to collapse when a rival whispers at his ear, would have shown Herrera his support in such a way according to Martinoli's coworker and former Mexico player Luis García. He went further on Guillermo Ochoa: 'You seem to me an average goalie, but even more average as a person with that mocking laugh during the whole flight back'.  

García's words regrettably reveal what we all began to know when the Dos Santos brothers pandered to Herrera's misbehavior via Twitter. Many of the players, perhaps those most questioned, formed an entourage of much self-indulgence and scarce self-criticism in the world of El Piojo. Not all were like that, but the images of a paralyzed and speechless Carlos Vela before a furious Herrera approaching Martinoli to give more verbal abuse in the boarding queue, and the apathetic remarks of Héctor Herrera ("I wasn't in charge of him"), also reveal how lonely Herrera was within a group of thirty or more individuals. El Tri has no leadership on moral grounds.

Soon after Herrera's sacking was made official, Javier Estepa, an Spanish journalist from Marca, tweeted that with the gone boss many of his former footballers may refrain from the national team too in retaliation. As much as anything happens in Mexican football lately, it is nonetheless true that national bosses have come and gone without any player voluntarily withdrawing from international duties out of a sense of solidarity. 'Professionalism', is how Andrés Guardado named it after the Panamá match.

Perhaps El Tri has become a protracted saga of lavish banquets like those offered by Trimalchio. Perhaps a good bunch of the Mexican players are like those visitors flooding Gatsby's Mansion within Fitzgerald's novel. The fact that Herrera now will fall into an oblivion after his great time of richness and fame tells so much as Gatsby's lonely funeral: it says much more about those absent than it says about the corpse.