Via ESPN

By Zach Ricchiuti

After initial success, Jose Mourinho's arrogance and controlling style is getting him run out of town — again.

"Everything you touch turns to ash." 

"The job won't save you." 

"If only half you motherfuckers at the district attorney's office didn't want to be judges, didn't want to be partners in some downtown law firm ... If half of you had the fucking balls to follow through, you know what would happen? A guy like that would be indicted, tried and convicted. And the rest of 'em would back up enough, so we could push a clean case or two through your courthouse. But no, everybody stays friends. Everybody gets paid. And everybody's got a fucking future."

I've spent this past week re-watching The Wire, and I can't help but keep thinking how similar Jose Mourinho's career path is to Jimmy McNulty's five-season descent through alcoholism, depression and excellent police work. 

For the uninitiated, McNulty's arc goes something like this: Through defiance and arrogance, he talks his way onto the biggest case in the department, rallies the crew behind him, puts together a brilliant investigation, alienates the crew through his intensity and addiction, falls out with his superiors and gets kicked out. Along the way, he costs the Baltimore PD thousands of dollars in wiretaps and surveillance equipment. It's a cycle that repeats three times throughout the series.

Aside from McNulty's raging alcoholism, Mourinho seems hellbent on mirroring The Wire character's self-destructive career. He declared himself the "special one" upon arriving at Chelsea, and then went on to win two league titles, an FA Cup and a league cup. But his internal popularity soured following a power struggle between he and owner Roman Abramovich's advisors, and soon he was off to coach Inter Milan. There, he won an historic treble, yet in the process spent so much money that the club is still financially crippled.

Mourinho was on the move again, and the allure of Real Madrid proved too much to resist. Pundits and madridistas thought his style of play too negative for Madrid, his attitude too biting and his ego too large. Yet the desire to end Barcelona's dominance over La Liga overrode those fears, and soon Mourinho had built a vicious counter-attacking machine. Led by Ronaldo, Real Madrid was the fast and violent yin to Barca's methodical yang.

But while Marcelo Bielsa, manager of Athletic Bilbao, is said to be physically exhausting with his relentless pressure and overlapping style, Mourinho is exhausting on an emotional level. (There is an all-too-teling video of him leaving Inter Milan, with defender Marco Materazzi bawling like a baby in his arms.) And at Madrid, his inevitable slow demise as a result of that is playing out before us.

Real Madrid is an institution of Spanish nationalism and pride. It was Franco's club during his dictatorship, and received suspicious government assistance in a number of cases. Spanish newspaper Marca is practically a team spokesman, and managers come and go as quickly as the rain in Spain. That institutional culture is clashing now with Mourinho, who clearly believes that his word is absolute law. He disregarded his advisors again this week and dropped keeper Iker Casillas, prolonging a power struggle that has sunk team morale and Mourinho's job approval. It seems that people around the club are simply fed up with Mourinho's belief that he must control every aspect of the club.

The squad is also deeply divided along national lines. It it said that there is a Portuguese contingent led by Ronaldo and a Spanish one with Casillas and Sergio Ramos in charge. So while Mourinho fights Real Madrid's directors for autonomy, he is at the same time battling to unify the club's player factions. While Casillas could probably do a little more on the goal-stopping end, his benching is also partly a declaration of strength on Mourinho's end.

But it is all a slow exercise in failure. Reports leaked last week that Mourinho will part with Madrid in June. The league title all but belongs to Barcelona, with Madrid now 16 points behind the league leaders. Mourinho's time and reputation in the city now hinges on the team's upcoming Champions League performance. Failure to bring that trophy back will surely outweigh his triumph last year over Barcelona.

This saga all says more about Mourinho as a coach than any of his previous spells. His intense, almost fanatical addiction winning and success made him the most sought-after coach for big clubs needing quick success. But Mourinho burns almost everything he touches. He spends a ton of money, is inconsistent and torches any trace of progress when he's thrown out the door. It's exactly why Mourinho and Madrid were a perfect match, destined to succeed, and then destined to fail.

Zach Ricchiuti is a contributor and resident soccer expert for Began in '96.

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By Zach Ricchiuti

Three weeks in, European club soccer is taking its customary international break. But already there have been a slew of storylines and drama.

There’s nothing more depressing than realizing that, just three weeks into the new European soccer schedule, there are no games on this weekend. It’s the international break, the bane of all managers and coaches who ship off star players to their respective countries and then huddle in a corner clutching and rosary praying those same star players come back without crutches or a slew of prostitutes behind them (I'm looking at you Jonathan dos Santos).

He Who Must Not Be Named (formerly known as Robin Van Persie) was infamous for scoring goals by the bucketload just before the international break. The Dutch media would crown him the second coming of the great Johan Cruyff, ready to lead the Dutch to glory. And then an opposing defender would smash his knee in three places. Most recently, Juventus’ Giorgio Chiellieni played the villain, while also holding the distinction of owning the largest nose in Italy and being the only Juventus squadmember not been charged with match-fixing. Allegedly.

Now that I think about it, I certainly would not mind He Who Must Not Be Named falling down in a heap of bones after a crunching tackle from *insert Turkish player here*. Anything would be an improvement from watching him score a hat trick for Manchester United. Watching He Who Must Not Be Named score goals for Man U is a lot like being forced to watch your ex-girlfriend/boyfriend/wife/husband have sex with a richer, better-looking partner, all while he/she smiles at you and winks. Should I mention I am an Arsenal fan?

Back to the topic: There are a number of fascinating storylines to touch on after only three weeks of action. One has already been mentioned by my fellow writer, Joe Schackman, who in his honorable quest to learn more about the beautiful, holy game that is European soccer, has managed to somehow support the team of Satan himself, the Tottenham Hotspurs.

The Sun

Tottenham fired Harry Redknapp this summer and decided that they needed a manager with youth, vision, and a plan for future success. Does this sound like Chelsea circa 2011/2012? It should, considering that the Spurs hired former Chelsea coach Andre Villas Boas, the younger, far less sociable but better dressed version of his Portuguese counterpart Jose Mourinho. Villas Boas, who I’ll refer to as AVB, is according to English media law, most notable for winning the treble minor with Porto, benching Frank Lampard without explanation and then banishing Nicholas Anelka and Alex to play in the reserves while Chelsea limped out of the holy top-four places in England. 

If there's anybody who can dismantle a squad and cause chaos while impeccably dressed in an assortment of fitted suits, skinny ties, and club polos, it is AVB. But after deciding that his normal policy of introducing poorly communicated tactics wasn't enough, AVB decided to adopt the Arsenal method of self-destruction. He sold both of Tottenham's best players, Luka Modric and Rafael Van der Vaart, and brought in replacements. Did I mention that AVB has a problem dealing with players? Did I also mention that one of his first buys was Emmanuel Adebayor, the player who fell out with Arsenal fans after courting Milan midseason, and then proceeded to fall out with Manchester City manager Roberto Mancini? I could not have written a better script for disaster myself. 

But it's not all doom and gloom for Tottenham. They made some intelligent purchases in the transfer window. Ex-Ajax Amsterdam captain Vertonghen is a fine purchase, given that he has knees, and predecessor Ledley King did not. How a professional footballer manages to play as well as he did for that many years without any cartilage in his knees is truly a mystery. Clint Dempsey (obligatory GO USA!) is also a good purchase, and an absolute steal at $9 million. He has a track record of goal scoring in the Premier League and brings versatility to the front line. Moussa Dembele of Fulham also arrived at White Hart Lane this summer in a $20 million deal. As he showed against Norwich, Dembele will bring directness, strength, and dribbling to a Tottenham midfield that is anemic despite Gareth Bale's attempts at being the fastest white man since... well, there aren't many fast white men out there. 

But more than player or prayer, what AVB really needs is time. His 4-3-3 formation is attractive and fluid, but requires a lot from Tottenham's brainless wingers (Bale on the left and Lennon the right). Namely, he needs them to be intelligent and come in off the touchline to support their lone striker. He will also need to find the right balance of defense, while being able to send his fullbacks bombing forward. There are still question marks about the huge, Luka Modric-shaped hole in the center of their midfield, but Dembele might fill that hole with time. There is certainly potential in this Spurs side, and if they stick with AVB, he might be able to make it work. 

Moving on to Spain, it seems Cristiano Ronaldo is sad. Making roughly $300k a week, being the reigning golden boot winner in Spain and playing for arguably the most famous club of all time is normally enough to keep people happy. But Ronaldo, frankly, is a spoiled brat. 

I am not one to lightly pass over the human aspect of being an athlete. Money does not bring happiness and there is a track record of depression in sports. But somehow, Ronaldo does not strike me as someone capable of complex emotions or especially deep thought. Given that Barcelona’s Andres Iniesta recently won UEFA’s best European player honors, I’d imagine his temper tantrum has more to do with that. 

Him stonewalling the cameras after scoring goals this past weekend then declaring to the media that "I am sad, and the club know why," is quite obviously, not good for Madrid. There are some who feel that Ronaldo is undervalued by Real Madrid and their fans. Counterpart Lionel Messi is treated like a 5’4” god in Barcelona, held up as the genius and leader that he is, responsible for dragging Barcelona to tiki-taka victory. Ronaldo, on the other hand, faces more pressure. And coming off a season where he almost singlehandedly won the league title, it's possible that he's displeased with the club over a lack of support. Or a mass-shortage of hair gel. Both seem fairly possible reasons.

But on with the international breaks, where by the time of this being posted, the U.S. will face a must-win against Jamaica, England will have thrashed Moldova, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will have broken his leg in an earth-shattering collision with a Turkish defender (or he'll have scored a hat-trick). 

Fear not though, fellow fans, in just a week we’ll be back to the club battles that keep us coming back and the drama that keeps things interesting. I too will be huddled in a corner clutching my rosary, hoping that none of Arsenal’s players get injured.

Zach Ricchiuti is a contributor and resident European soccer expert for Began in '96.

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By Joe Schackman

The search for a team to guide my education. The latest in a running diary about breaking into the world of football. The previous piece can be found here.

If I’m going to be respected as a football fan, I have to have a team to follow. It sounds simple, but it’s the most important decision I’ll make as part of my indoctrination into the world of European club football. I need to find a team, somewhere on that vast continent, that will guide my education and give me a window into the sport’s culture. Through this team, I’ll learn about strategy, player development and transfers. And most importantly, it’ll give me a reason to be passionate beyond just a basic appreciation of the game.

I’ve noticed that with sports like college basketball or college football that I’ve had trouble sustaining my interest because I don’t have a specific team to root for. I didn’t go to a large university, and neither did my parents. I pull a bit for Rutgers, having grown up near the school, and I have a soft spot for Michigan, as my cousin just graduated from there. I enjoy watching USC too, but don’t consider myself a fan.

As a result of those scattered allegiances, my interest in the game varies. Some seasons I’ll get really into college basketball or football, while other years I’ll remain a casual observer. Without one team to focus on, there’s little that will keep me coming back day after day. And so this football experiment will certainly fail if I don’t fall in love with a club. 

“Picking” a team is an odd concept. Having grown up around sports fans and lived in the New York area, there has never been a shortage of teams, and so my passion for a particular sport grew out of my passion a team, rather than the other way around. I love the Mets; the logical next step then was to fall in love with baseball as a whole.

Unfortunately, there’s no La Liga team based out of New York. So I will have to do this the unorthodox way and literally a choose a team. The process is difficult for many reasons, but one main issue is that there is not one football league to rule them all. 

For example: If you want to watch the best basketball in the world, you turn on the NBA. But football doesn’t work that way. Thanks to massive global interest, the player pool is huge and teams have sprouted up everywhere. In Europe alone, there are multiple high-quality leagues, each with their own flavor, style and culture. Yet out of all the football played on the continent, the general consensus is that the four major leagues are La Liga in Spain, the Bundesliga in Germany, Serie A in Italy and The Premier League in England.

Logic says that I should look no further than La Liga. The two best players in the world play in Spain, and for two of the best teams in the world. One of those squads is in the running for the title of greatest ever. The rivalry between Barcelona and Real Madrid is also unlike anything else seen in sports, running far deeper than anything we see stateside. The two teams are woven into the history and political landscape of Spain, with El Clasico referred to as the modern embodiment of the struggle between Franco and the people, Catalonia versus the Capital.

However, the power at the top of the league is extremely consolidated. To have any chance of seeing a league title in the next few years, I’d have to jump on a massive bandwagon already packed with fans, and I don’t think I can bring myself to do that quite yet. Picking a team is hard, but it seems like cheating to go with one of the top four teams in the world.

Then there is Serie A, which has been described to me as the most tactical league in the world. I can appreciate a classic defensive struggle as much as a wide open high-scoring match, and this league would probably be a great place to take my strategic understanding of the game to the next level. But I don’t think I can handle another sport riddled with controversy, and the match-fixing scandal of 2006 continues to ripple through Serie A. I’ve had enough controversy in my sports orbit of late, thanks to steroids, the Saints and Tiger Woods.

Now, I know very little about the Bundesliga, but from what I’ve heard, this is a league after my own heart. The teams in Germany’s top division have largely stayed out of the current escalation of the transfer market. Instead, they’ve invested heavily in their development academies and relied on those homegrown players to carry their teams. Whereas the big clubs across Europe have taken on mountains of debt, Bayern Munich is still making money while continuing to compete at the highest levels. From the outside, the league reminds me of what I love about Major League Baseball. Its structure promotes shrewd moves and development over flashy signings.

But despite everything that intrigues me about the Bundesliga, it just doesn’t draw me in. It doesn’t excite me. Which leaves....

The Barclays Premier League. The most famous league in the world, the Premier League counts teams like Manchester United, Chelsea, Arsenal and Manchester City among its members. America’s best players are, for the most part, consolidated in England, with Clint Dempsey at Fulham (for now), Tim Howard starting in net for Everton and Landon Donovan joining him on loan for the last two seasons.

It’s also a league I already have some experience with. I lived in London for a brief time, and spent many a night in the pub trying to keep up with the locals as they rambled/slurred on about the teams and history of the Premier League. 

I won’t shun the other three leagues completely, but the majority of my time early on will be spent on the Premier League and whatever team I choose to follow. The beauty and curse of club football is its sheer volume, but whittling my quest down to one particular league should make it a bit more manageable.

Joe Schackman is an editor and co-founder of Began in '96. 

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