A new post from Tomkins. He spent a day with Rafa at Melwood discussing anything and everything
It's a long, but fantastic read. (mods sorry if its too long, if so feel free to delete)
http://tomkinstimes.com/2009/10/my-day-with-crisis-hit-benitez/My Day With "Crisis" - Hit Benitez
If Anfield is the outer appearance of Liverpool FC â its face, its skin, its very public expressions â then Melwood is its heart, its guts, its nervous system.
When Rafa BenĂtez personally invites me to meet him for lunch at the legendary training ground, Liverpool have just seen their six-game winning streak come to an end in Italy, but things are still looking good. There is no agenda; just a long overdue chance to say hello, and say thank-you for taking the time to write for the official site for four years.
And it is still only a few months ago that Real Madrid and Manchester United were thrashed, and a genuine title challenge was mounted, despite the 4th-most expensive squad (now 5th) and the 4th-most expensive wage bill (now 5th).
(Anyone who doubts the utterly vital importance of the wages factor, read Soccernomics/Why England Lose; the biggest payers win the biggest prizes more than nine times out of ten.)
By the time the meeting takes place, the newspapers are full of âcrisisâ talk, just months after the best league season that any late-teen Red will have lived through. (The kind of late-teen now spouting off on internet forums about his ineptitude, not that they can conjure such words.)
Inadvertently, I am entering the eye of the storm. Or so I expect. The world is chattering about BenĂtez and his future, and here I am, about to spend part of the morning and almost the entire afternoon with him, chatting one-to-one about the club we both love.
Melwood has clearly come a long way since the days Bill Shankly turned up to find a glorified flea pit. Space-age facilities, pitches that put the lawns at Hampton Court to shame, and a bold red decor; but all fenced off from the world, and autograph hunters, by the same old breeze block brick wall.
I glance across at the legendary hill, constructed for gruelling trudges up and down, and the target boxes divided into nine squares, each with a number painted, the like of which I recall from pictures of Shanklyâs time. But otherwise itâs from another planet, not just another era.
Having been on the Kop for the visit of Lyon, I dread the mood as the final 20 minutes sees a win turn to defeat, and more players limp off. I half expect Rafa to cancel, and for everyone to be in a foul mood; a time for inquests and recriminations.
However, I encounter no such despair; morale seems okay (if, understandably, no-one is performing cartwheels and dancing on tables like the cast of Fame). Admittedly I have no prior experience of the place to compare it with, but I am buoyed by the aura.
I get to see some of the training, but of course, there arenât a lot of fit senior players out there, and itâs only a short, gentle session after the night before.
Around noon, Rafa greets me warmly for the second time that day, only now I will have his full, undivided attention. We head to his office, and within minutes heâs sketching formations on scraps of loose paper.
Despite the ever-widening criticism, this is a man who, over the previous four seasons, has seen his team average 78 points in the league; or the grand total with which Arsene Wenger won his first title. The team Rafa inherited averaged 62 points and did nothing in Europe in Houllierâs final two seasons (in other words, the seasons he was sacked for).
This is a man who has raised around ÂŁ100m in Champions League qualification and progress, and reached two finals; despite no wealthy benefactors pumping in unlimited funds, and despite contrasting messages from up on high during the past few years that leave many people confused.
This is a man who has never had enough money â crucially â at any one time to put together a squad to match the expense of his rivalsâ. More than half of what heâs spent heâs recouped in order to make that overall spend, yet he gets credited with having spent mythical amounts.
This is not the â70s and â80s, when success bred success, as two geniuses held the reins for 24 years, before two other top managers kept things ticking over (and in Dalglishâs case, to a new level of aesthetic brilliance).
This is also not the â90s, when Graeme Souness, enjoying the last time the club was as relatively rich as its rivals (pre-Premier League boom, pre-United marketing machine, pre-billionaire backers), broke British records on spending to try and get the Reds back to the top, only to turn them into an awful collection of overweight, disinterested no-hopers, with the odd decent skinny kid thrown in.
Once that money was spent, and the thoroughly decent Roy Evans had been cheated by another record signing, Stan Collymore, who didnât even bother turning up for training some of the time (but who is now an âexpertâ on management), Liverpool had become also-rans.
And so I meet BenĂtez during a bad spell for the club, but a bad three months; not a bad three years, to point to the record of one of his critics this week. The club are still in better shape than when Rafa arrived; that ex-manager (Souness) left things in a total mess.
Some more context. At the end of last season, having shown them their best six months in over a decade, Martin OâNeill was being vilified by the Villains. Now heâs great again. Arsene Wenger was being gunned at by Gunners, now heâs back on track. Top managers have bad spells. sh*t happens. Well-run clubs stick by good men; bad ones end up like Newcastle.
Why Am I Here?
With everyone from the club making me feel incredibly welcome, any nerves about meeting the man himself have ebbed away. In wandering around the canteen area, I see all of the reserve team playing table tennis and pool, ahead of their own light training before the eveningâs game. Then the manager approaches me, and our meeting begins within the techno-zone that is his plush office.
Rafa makes it clear that I am here so that he can say thank-you for my efforts over the past five years, and to let me know that heâs impressed by how much I get right about him and his methods; he finds it unusual that someone takes the time and makes the effort.
Of course, this being Rafa, he points out a couple of things Iâve got wrong. (I like this: it makes me feel that he is not just bullshitting me; and heâs clearly right about what I got wrong.)
He makes it clear that he doesnât want to colour or influence what I write, but of course, is glad that someone takes on his critics upon his behalf with actual facts, rather than spurious conceits.
I am not asked to change anything I do, nor to do anything for him. He just wants to make sure that when I talk about things like zonal marking, I am aware of the exact way the team line-up, whose job is what, and so on.
I explain that once I was made aware, from the outset in 2005, that he was a regular reader of my column on the official site, I had to make sure I knew what I was talking about; that my main aim was indeed to understand his methods rather than judge him, and that if I did judge him, I better be able to back up what I was saying.
Facts became more important to me than ever before, and when I looked at what kind of budget he was working on (compared with his rivals), or how many games he was winning, and all the other things that go to make up the context, my belief in him grew.
Even very recently, reading a book like Soccernomics/Why England Lose, I found my beliefs backed up, with its ultra-modern approach to the game. (No living in the past in that tome; itâs in a small part about why England fans expect too much based on distant history, but also about how money, and particularly wages, play a bigger part in success than people appreciate.)
Equanimous
The word Iâd use to describe the manager is âequanimousâ, which my dictionary notes as âmental calmness, composure, and evenness of temper, esp. in a difficult situationâ.
If he doesnât punch the air in victory, he also wonât punch a player in defeat.
But this is not to say that he is not passionate; on several topics he gets very animated. His love for the club is clear. He desire to succeed his clear. His burning ambition to get the most out of what he has at his disposal is clear.
I find him a warm, welcoming man â nothing like the ludicrous âcoldâ stereotype â and Melwood is the epitome of professionalism. Other staff members point out that theyâve seen him give lots of encouragement to players, and certainly offers a human touch.
Yes, the conversation is almost exclusively about football, but his office has enough reminders of his family life outside the game to show that he is not some soulless robot, and his humour is clear. And anyway, he didnât invite me there to talk about that weekâs Strictly Come Dancing, did he?
We spend almost four hours over lunch in his personal meeting room, and afterwards in his office, going through tactics, personnel, and almost anything else you care to mention.
It is such a natural, easy conversation, at times I have to remind myself who I am talking with; and âwithâ is the right word. At no point does he talk at me. And in person, his English is easier to understand than it is with a microphone thrust in his face. (For the record, I took no notes, nor made any recordings; it was just two men talking football.)
After several diagrams sketched on A4 sheets, he leads me to the canteen and shows me the dayâs healthy selection. As I stand trying to decide, Alberto Aquilani taps him on the shoulder to ask about the reserve game later that night. They talk briefly in Italian. The boss turns back, and approves of my choice: paella, which I was pleasantly surprised to find amid the pasta dishes.
Later we discuss the new Italian midfielder: an independent expert had told the club that he would be fit for the end of August, but that ended up being pushed back and back. It was frustrating, but Rafa was very happy with what he was now seeing in training â the lad has vision and technique â even if he obviously still has to adapt to the pace of the English game.
(Later, as Rafa shows me around the entire complex, I am shown the special new machine that helped Aquilani train despite the injury.)
The fee is ÂŁ17m, he tells me, and he points out that John Arne Riise (âa good ladâ) has just texted him to once again to offer his support, and to say Liverpool have got a real gem in Aquilani.
(I like that a player the manager has sold still texts his old boss; no signs of a lack of affection there, even if Rafa makes it clear that it is obviously not his job to be best mates with his charges, just as Fabio Capello wonât be bonding with his players beyond the acceptable bounds.)
It was a difficult summer, Rafa explains, with Alonso determined to leave and Barcelona niggling away at Mascherano.
The manager certainly wanted to do more business in the market himself, but was unable to. His frustrations are evident, and he lists a few players he went in for; in most cases his interest was well known, but one less so. A shame, I think, when I hear the name. Iâm also told of one world-class star in the making that Liverpool made an early approach for in 2007, but before the deal could be tied up, due to dallying, he was lured elsewhere.
We discuss the Alonso situation at length. Rafa made the decision at the end of the midfielderâs fourth season, in 2008; for two years Xabi wasnât quite cutting it â loads of Kopites were even saying as much â and in Gareth Barry, Rafa had in mind a more robust player, with different qualities and, crucially, an English passport for the changing rules. And with Xabiâs wife expecting a baby, there had been rumblings of a desire to return to Spain.
A new formation was devised, to take into account Barryâs energy and his ability to get up and back, and also to cross with deadly accuracy, but for well-known reasons, the deal fell through.
By then the bridges with Alonso were somewhat burned, and although the Basque had his best-ever season, he had his heart set on leaving. Nothing new there, I know, but nice to have it explained in depth, in person. The player wanted out, and Liverpool got ÂŁ30m.
Time To Go?
We are briefly interrupted at different times by Sammy Lee and Frank McParland, and I am introduced to both: intense, driven men who share Rafaâs desire for success, and the trustworthy sign of a firm handshake.
Iâm not sure if the meeting is supposed to last as long as it is, and I keep asking the boss if he has something else to be doing; but heâs taken training, the physios are doing their job, and Rafa isnât about to knock off early. It may have been a few hours, but itâs only a small part of his working day.
Even so, I can see how eager he is to have the world understand his ideas, especially when ex-players and the vast majority of the media are clearly hostile and keen to misrepresent him; he knows that unlike some of his rivals, he doesnât have friends in high places, such as Fleet Street, Sky TV, the League Managersâ Association and the FA. (These are my assumptions; he gives no specifics. But itâs not hard to see which managers work the system for their advantage through old pals networks, and which clubs have greater influence in certain areas.)
Whenever I think Iâd better leave him in peace, we get onto another subject. Zonal marking pops up. So, too, does Rafa â from his seat, demonstrating positioning, who should be where, against the backdrop of his broad office windowâs glare.
This isnât enough. A DVD from his extensive library is slipped into the machine, and now heâs showing me how what Liverpool deploy is actually a mix of both zonal and man-marking. I am shown who should be where, and what each individualâs job is; how that job changes depending on which foot the taker is using (inswinger/outswinger); and how there is as much personal responsibility as the alternative â everyone knows their job.
Then he takes me, beat by beat, through other teams, and the gross failings of some man-markers, and also points out several players who, despite being labelled man-markers, are marking zones! (men on the posts, and others here and there.) We look at a side who are very successful at defending set-pieces, and he shows me how they defend a similar way to the Reds (and holy sh*t, they do!); they just happen to have a lot of tall players.
Unfortunately, tall players who are also technically gifted, as all-rounders, cost more money; you can buy giants who can defend set-pieces, but canât then play the game in the manner you require.
If you want very good footballers like Mascherano, Benayoun and Insua, then, as with most things in life, thereâs a flip side. Good footballers who are also imposing physical specimens cost a premium. And even Chelsea, with their giants and noted headers of a ball, have conceded four set-piece goals in their last two away games.
Difficult
I put to Rafa a lot of the âdifficultâ questions fans raise with me, and he answers each without a problem.
Obviously I cannot discuss all of his answers, because it was in the context of a private conversation, and I donât want to betray confidences about certain players. He knows the balance of the team isnât quite right, and heâs working hard to make the necessary adjustments; but issues with form and fitness are not helping.
It suddenly occurs to me that if every individual critic of Rafaâs could sit down and have a similar conversation, theyâd be converted. At the very least, theyâd be a lot wiser.
That wouldnât mean theyâd suddenly feel mistakes still arenât made: every signing can go bad, every substitution comes with a risk, and so on. You can make the right decisions and get unlucky, and make the wrong decisions and get good fortune.
I sense that a big part of his job is building up the confidence of struggling players, and keeping the egos in check when they think theyâve âmade itâ. But then thatâs just one of the tough aspects of management.
Stubborn
People inevitably say that Rafa is stubborn, but I donât know one top manager who doesnât have the courage of his convictions. Personally, I donât want a manager who has one set of beliefs one week, and who then changes his mind the next. If you know something works more often than not, you stick with it when itâs not; changing is not the answer.
For example, four years of having either the best, or one of the best, set-piece records (defensively), is to be taken more seriously than a spell of ten games. And anyway, will total man-marking make Insua or Mascherano 6ft 5?
And people will criticise his decisions, such as playing three at the back at Sunderland; ignoring that previous deployments of the system, though infrequent, had proved successful.
We discuss the irony of the boos over removing Benayoun (whom he felt had played well, but run himself to a standstill) when a year earlier, the general consensus was that âhe wasnât fit to wear the shirtâ.
And of course, there was the issue of confidence. The night before, Liverpool had at last found some of this precious elixir after taking the lead; but as soon as Lyon equalised, you could see it visibly drain away. That happens when things arenât going your way.
Rafa tells me of Luis AragonĂŠsâ saying âYou canât buy confidence in Marks & Spencersâ. There is no magic wand, no secret message, no miraculous injection; you can only keep plugging away, doing the right thing, and hope that it changes.
Weâve all seen a striker who canât score for love nor money, then one goes in off his arse and heâs bubbling again. That same thing can happen with a team; except on top of individual struggles, that undefinable âwavelengthâ confidence goes askew as well. Everyone is hesitant, in their passing and in their movement.
The same group of players who were passing-and-moving to near-perfection in the second half of last season (even when Alonso was absent) havenât suddenly forgotten how to play football.
With candour, BenĂtez admits to some mistakes, particularly in the transfer market, but points out that he had to gamble on cheaper players when his first choices (whom his rivals could afford) were beyond the finances of the club. He knows that heâs often had to sell in order to buy; something thatâs also not true at other major clubs.
He tells various stories of players who, despite big reputations, surprised senior Reds by their lack of understanding of what they were asked to do, and those who couldnât adapt, or couldnât (or wouldnât) learn English, or whose wives wanted away. There are those who demanded guaranteed first-team football or theyâd leave; so they left.
Then there are the agents, hangers-on, etc, and you realise that controlling a group of disparate, super-rich and in some cases egotistical men (Everyoneâs Got One â only some more than others), half of whom are going to be unhappy with you that week, is a minefield. And for a clear outsider like BenĂtez, who doesnât have his cliques within the English game, itâs certainly no easier.
We discuss who could still be at the club if he could afford to give contracts in line with Chelsea, Man Utd and Man City. He names good squad players at other clubs who are kept happy by handsome salaries.
We talk of how nice it would have been to have someone like Peter Crouch still at the club, but he obviously had to be behind Torres in the pecking order for front-line striker, and the manager couldnât offer him big wages to try and make him happier (if not âhappyâ) on the bench.
We discuss several major players, now at rival clubs, whom he thought had been signed (dating back to 2005), only for the deal to fall through for reasons beyond his control. Again, mostly well-known stuff, but some surprises, and an insight into how he felt his hands were tied.
We discuss actual transfer fees, not what the media claims he has spent. And he points out that he often didnât set the fee; after all, the negotiating wasnât his job. He was surprised at how much the club ended up paying for players he had been told in his initial enquiries could have been got for less.
We discuss how, for example, people accuse him of wasting money on Dossena (âa top proâ, he says, but one who has struggled with the system), yet one reason the Italian isnât in the side is the emergence of Insua â a very shrewd buy.
Whether or not Dossena would eventually come good (if given playing time) almost becomes moot; Insua, for around ÂŁ1m, is excelling.
Insua could now well be worth much more than the fee paid for both him and Dossena, but people will only focus on the negative. Although he doesnât say so, if Insua had cost ÂŁ7m and Dossena ÂŁ1m, thereâd be no problem. So ⌠whatâs the problem? (And thatâs before adding Aurelio, a free transfer; three international left-backs, two of whom can also play in midfield, for ÂŁ8m.)
Rafa is surprisingly candid as we speak about pretty much every first team member, followed by every reserve, and even a number of youth players. He lists their strengths, and talks with admiration about many, but even the best he wants to improve in certain areas. Itâs perfectionism that drives a hunger in individuals; thereâs surely a reason that Steven Gerrardâs best form as a footballer has come under Rafael BenĂtezâs stewardship? Who cares if Rafa gives him a cuddle or bakes him a cake?
Later on, as I get the full tour, we pass one lesser known teenage reserve, and Rafa, pulling me to one side so the kid canât hear, makes it clear that this lad has something about him. âLook out for him.â But sometimes itâs better if the kid doesnât get ideas above his station.
Overhaul
One subject that I bring up is the number of players heâs accused of buying.
He grabs the white A4, and draws out lists of how many first team players he inherited that were just not good enough (roughly half). He does the same with the reserve team (almost every player), and then the youth team (every player bar one). It turns out to be around 50 players in total.
So when he is accused of buying far too many players, he points out that he had little choice; that many were bought because they were better than what was already there, even if, with youngsters, you can never guarantee who will make the grade, or how quickly they will progress.
And even a 17-year-old needs a professional contract.
He wonders why there is this obsession with all these signings, when every big club stocks its youth and reserve teams with imports and purchases.
My take is this: if you have 50 players at a club (from top to bottom) who you believe are not good enough â and therefore they need to go â you will not replace them sufficiently with 50 signings.
The law of averages say that some new purchases will get injured, some will not settle, some will turn out to be ânot as advertisedâ (i.e. they couldnât do what was asked of them, or, though well-scouted, were not as good when seen in your team. Some will have been poorly scouted, hence BenĂtezâs desire to improve that side of things.)
Make 50 signings, and maybe, with a good wind, 25 will be successes of varying degrees, from acceptable to outstanding; far less if youâre talking about teenagers, who can fail to develop or lose focus.
It might take three years to make those 50 signings, and you may still be very short at every level of the club. So to get the next 25, you might need to buy 50 more, by which time some of the successes have left for varying reasons. So itâs a constant process of improvement, hampered by the financial inability to shop for more than the occasional established world-class player.
How can it go wrong?
He talks glowingly about Francisco Duranâs ability, but after three cruciate injuries, thereâs a chance the Spanish younger, who was coveted by Arsene Wenger but chose Liverpool, will never be the same again. Wonderful prospect in 2007, but fate has handicapped his development. He may not have become the next Cesc Fabregas, but then neither would Fabregas had he had three such horrible injuries.
He mentions young players now at other clubs that he thought he had done enough to sign, but when not enough urgency was shown by those he was asking to do the business.
I am invited around to look at his PC monitor, to see his database of the full Melwood cast list, and who he has in mind for each position, from first team through to young prospects. I learn which kids are showing a great attitude, and which ones are disappointing him; the kind of thing you just donât get to see unless youâre part of the club. Itâs great information, but something for him to discuss with the players in question (and not for me to mention). Some, it saddens him to see, seem to have entourages already. He dreads good young players losing their focus, or having their heads turned. Thatâs why mentality is so important.
He rates Pacheco, the fansâ darling-in-waiting, but although he doesnât say as much, he is another small, clever player, the like of which is already in abundance in a team lacking height. But Pacheco definitely has a chance, if he can span the great gap that exists from the reserves to the first team.
I mention Nemeth, and Rafa clearly likes him; but he needs first-team experience to toughen up. Heâs definitely not out on loan to be offloaded, but at this stage Voronin, with his added experience (given that the first team is still very young, on average), was felt to be the better option as back-up second-striker.
Gulasci (whom I earlier watched close up in a one-on-one session with a goalkeeping coach) is another prospect he has high hopes for; but young goalkeepers can get crucified after a mistake, and 20 is very young for the bench in that position.
Finally, Ayala is singled out for praise as someone with a great attitude and a very bright future. (Having walked past the 18-year-old, all I can say as Iâd have hated him marking me! Jesus Christ, I almost shat myself when he looked my wayâŚ).
The difficulty, of course, is in finding loans for promising players that will see them get games; we discuss incentives for those clubs taking these young Reds, such as San Joseâs year in Spain.
Send them to rival Premiership clubs, as happened in the past, and itâs likely to be a struggling side who shows an interest (Chelsea arenât going to want your best reserves, are they? â and nor will they get them), only for the manager to then panic (or get sacked) and the club jettison them to their own reserves when the going gets tougher. It happened with Mellor and Le Tallec. So the aim is to find clubs who will definitely develop them.
Finally, we discuss the sell-on clauses that some younger âflopsâ (who are now succeeding abroad) have in their contracts. Again, I wonât go into details, but itâs nice to know that profits will be made on small investments.
Adios
Before I leave, I get the full guided tour by the boss (known simply as âbossâ to every player), and at the front doors, Rafa shakes my hand not once but twice.
He smiles warmly, wishes me well, pats me on the shoulder, and I canât help but think âcrisis? what crisis?â
Buoyed by his calmness, and after another can of Red Bull, I drive home thinking that even if we can get a half-decent team out on Sunday we can give United a good test, and what a difference a win would make. Then even the naysayers might be saying âcrisis? what crisis?â