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He’s got 36 “favourite” systems, but he only ever uses one: the one that saves his weekend. He talks about “playing principles,” when deep down he mostly just wants everyone to track back and the striker to hit the target. Whatever happens, he’s right—except when he’s wrong, and then it’s the referee’s fault, the pitch’s fault, and the schedule’s fault.
He comes in all jasmine and elderflower: a charming speech, promises of “slick, polished football.” Then verbena takes over the tactics board: it tightens things up, repeats, hammers the details. And when it gets heated, spruce comes out: punchy, straight-backed, with a little commando edge that clearly says, “we don’t let go of anything.”
