I remember getting ready to go out on a Friday night in 2003; I was trying to iron my shirt but failing miserably. Glancing at the television I saw Porto had just scored against Celtic in the UEFA Cup Final. I didn’t think much of it, believing Martin O’Neil knew what he was doing, and of course they had Henrik Larsson, so continued trying to avoid creasing my lapels.
Finally holding the ironed shirt aloft in triumph, the taxi beeped. I looked up once more at the television to see Derlei smash the ball, which Artur Boruc could only partially stop as it flew into the net. Porto won 3-2.
How could this be? I thought getting into the cab, Celtic were a solid unit with a great strong striker in Larsson, not to mention having one of the most respected, competitive best British managers of recent times in O’Neil. It was because of someone called Mourinho.
The thought didn’t really stay in my mind that long, it was a Friday night, after all, but this name was to crop up again. This time it was a rainy 9 March and I was listening to Man Utd playing Porto in the 2004 Champions League last 16 second leg. I was only partially paying attention as I expected United to advance after going 1-0 up. It all seemed formulaic, a mighty club, bursting with more profit than the Tesco quarterly declaration, crushing one of the small teams (albeit one soaked in history).
Then United gave away a foul in the 89th minute, my eyebrow raised. McCarthy smacked it and then Tim Howard did something that perhaps changed the course of English football for the next three years, he parried the ball when it should have been caught. Costinho was there to gobble up the rebound and score.
I quickly turned on the television to catch Mourinho hurtling down the Old Trafford touchline, dressed in black like a thief in the night, running away with a game stolen from Ferguson, he did this with arms wide open as he approached his celebrating players by the corner flag. The hammer blow had come down; Old Trafford was silenced, shocked by the late equaliser and riled by Mourhino’s celebratory antics. I knew of the name then and after defeating Monaco in the Champions League Final, we all knew who he was. Winning that competition was quite extraordinary, and something I think was his greatest ever achievement as a manager.
FC Porto is not a big club compared to the financial clout that Man Utd, AC Milan, Bayern Munich or Real Madrid posses. They had no superstar players at the time and had to negotiate around a group which contained Real and also Marseille. Subsequently Mourinho masterminded victories over Lyon, Deportivo La Coruna and beat Monaco 3-0, leaving him with an offer from Chelsea that he could not refuse.
‘Again, please don't call me arrogant, because what I’m saying is true, I'm European champion, so I’m not one of the bottle, I think I'm a special one,’ was his declaration at a Chelsea press conference. The journalists must have been rubbing their hands in glee (at the presumed naivety) that someone could think they could enter the Premiership battlefield, where Ferguson had won the lion’s share, and with Wenger taking whatever was left. And do so with such swagger. Surely, this ‘Special One’ was in for a rude awakening.
Not so, by the beginning of the 2005 year he was top of the league and had just defeated Liverpool in the Carling Cup, Chelsea’s first silverware since 1997 (CFC fans correct me if I’m wrong, as I’m not 100%). There was more to come as he delivered what every Blues fan wanted, the Premiership title. Although, he had access to more resources than Ferguson, Wenger and Benitez, it did not guarantee success, just look what happened to Claudio Ranieri the season before.
Yet 2005 was also the year in which a bloody nose was served in the Champions League semi-final, here, he was matched by a tactically astute Benitez who set up a team buoyed by the Anfield crowd which won 1-0. Even Mourinho was bereft of ideas in the closing stages, sending Robert Huth to play up front to no avail. Still, Gudjohnsen had a chance to win it late, but Garcia’s early strike which crossed the line until Gallas cleared the ball, sent Liverpool through. The ‘ghost goal’ had defeated him.
By the time he left Chelsea he had won another league title, another Carling Cup and the F.A. Cup. The cracks in the relationship between himself and Abramovich appeared when the owner bought Andriy Shevchenko for no apparent reason, other than he was his pal. This was against Mourinho’s wishes and as a result Shevchenko hardly played, and without the faith of his coach was only an average player in the Premiership whereas he was a colossus in the San Siro.
The cracks widened to become rifts, as media reports suggested that Abramovich was now listening to suggestions made by Frank Arnesen (Director of Football at Chelsea) on who to buy and not the list that Mourinho had. The main reason was allegedly that Roman did not like the defensive style of play, and wanted something similar to Barcelona’s.
Yet it was this style of play which broke Man Utd’s and Arsenal’s reign as Premier League top dogs and had titles wrapped up with weeks left within the season. It had all became a bit boring for the general Premier League enthusiast, but it wasn’t for his Chelsea players. Terry, Carvalho, Essien, Drogba and Lampard were all Mourinho’s men and he gave them what they all wanted, titles and cups. They executed his instructions with aplomb and it typified the loyalty they had for him.
The day he was sacked by Chelsea, I remember seeing a tearful Garth Crooks hugging Mourinho as he said goodbye. I thought to myself, why was Garth Crooks almost crying because ‘The Special One’ was leaving? The truth was, Mourinho had made the media’s jobs so much more enjoyable with his ‘eggs and omelettes’ metaphors, and how he felt more pressure from the bird flu outbreak rather than the Premier League. Or, of course, the time when his dog fled to Portugal before being quarantined.
And just like that he was gone.
When Sky Sport News broke that he had joined Inter Milan 11 months after leaving Chelsea, I remember seeing him at the press conference addressing everyone in Italian. I was eating my Wheatabix, thinking, Wow, this guy can speak 3 languages. He later revealed that he learnt Italian in just 3 weeks of tuition; to this day I cannot believe this is true.
He successfully led the Nerazzurri to its third consecutive championship, but it was the Champions League which, owner Massimo Moratti really wanted. They found themselves pitted against Man Utd in the last 16, but this time there was no Porto repeat with the thief in black running down the touchline. Instead Ferguson gained some retribution (if he was looking for it) and convincingly beat Inter 2-0 in the 2nd leg. That is not to say that Inter didn’t have chances after a 0-0 draw at the San Siro. Unfortunately all of their genuine chances fell to Ibrahimovic, how as, Johan Cruyff put it, he’s either got a great touch for a bad player, or a really bad touch for a good player. The chances went by and Inter were ditched.
This only left Mourinho defiant, albeit also slightly gracious admitting that Man Utd was currently the best team in the world. Still, he insisted that this was a team he inherited and did not have all the players that he wanted. He wanted to be judged 12 months later when he was able to acquire new personnel.
And so during that summer I read about the best bit of football business since Tottenham had managed to sell Dimitar Berbatov to Utd for £30 million. Ibrahimovic would be going to Barcelona for Samuel Eto’o, one of the world’s most potent strikers and a player who does not got hiding on the highest club stage. This was not just a straight swap deal, Barca also paid 20 million Euros for Ibrahimovic too.
So now Mourinho had Eto’o, he had Milito, Motta and Snejider. He was ready to fulfil Moratti’s dreams or be sacked by Inter’s inability of progressing beyond the final 16. Inter were pitted in quite a difficult group with Barca, Dynamo Kyviv, and Rubin Kazan. Having lost to Barca away and gaining a draw against them. The results against the two remaining clubs were crucial and at one stage they looked like crashing out of the competition in the group stages, but they managed to go through in 2nd place.
The league itself was not as clear cut as some had first thought; their lead was cut down by Roma, who eventually overtook them with only 5 games to play. His relationship with the Italian media was bad, and deteriorated even more so as the season progressed, even having a go at one of the pundit’s on an Italian football show and then walking off. I guess, this would be the equivalent of him dressing down Mark Lawrenson on Football Focus before dropping his mike and walking away from Manish Bhasin.
Roma lost momentum and eventually Inter won the league on the last game of the season, defeating Siena 1-0 away. They also defeated Roma in the Coppa Italia, a 1-0 victory courtesy of Gabriel Milito again. It was the Champions League which Inter had to prove themselves however, and after being drawn against Chelsea, it all added the extra spice to the already bubbling prospect of Mourinho returning to Stamford Bridge.
However, this Inter were his players and his formation. It was evident as they took on Chelsea at the San Siro with the focussed determination that was once embodied of the boys in blue. The 1st leg score of 2-1 was just about justified, although Kalou was unfortunate not to have been given a penalty from the blatant hack made by Walter Samuel.
At the return leg at Stamford Bridge, Chelsea were again unfortunate not to have been given two penalties, but this could not hide that even at home they were losing control of the game. And in Sneijder they had a player like Joe Cole (but perhaps more mature on the field), who could unlock defences and so he did as he sent Eto’o free to scamper towards goal. And where Ibrahimovic might have missed, this striker does not, and with ten minutes remaining slammed the ball into the back of the net.
The Inter bench blew up in excitement in scoring but the former Chelsea boss, although initially unable to hide his delight, eventually composed himself by pumping his fist. He had managed to end Abramovich’s eternal quest to achieve Champions League glory and also break the Inter jinx of not getting past the last 16.
CSKA Moscow was no match and was duly dispatched, but what came up next was an intriguing tie. Barcelona, the club every football fan appreciates as playing the most free-flowing football in the world, and who are unique in paying Unicef to allow them to have it’s logo on their shirts, were against Inter. An ugly, determined side built on an unbreakable defence which was compounded with belief in each other, and more importantly, in the manager.
Somehow, and I don’t know how, they beat Barca 3-1 at the San Siro. This was also after going 1-0 down to them in the first half. Still, everyone thought they would throw out Inter in the 2nd leg, like I do with the rubbish on a Tuesday morning.
‘Where people say we parked the bus, but it’s not true, we parked the plane. Not the bus, the plane,’ was his response after the match. It was a game where 90,000 people willed Barca to score, but the defensive unit which was playing for time as little as two minutes into the game, stood strong. Julio Cesar produced a magnificent save and Thiago Motta even got himself sent off, but this somehow made Inter stronger, like an oyster shell protecting its pearl, they closed around the goal and refused to let Barca unpick or force a hole. Only in the 84 minute did they score, but for the team, Guardiola and the fans – it was too late.
The final whistle blew and Mourinho marched onto the pitch in a Franco like manner, right into the beating heart of Catalonia, to celebrate. Victor Valdes saw this and tried to rough him up, but he was stopped by stewards. Somehow, the best attacking team in the world had been blunted by the Mourinho machine.
The 2010 Champions League final was a bit of a bore compared to what happened at the Camp Nou, well it was in my opinion. It was framed as the protégé taking on the master, akin to Luke Skywalker facing Obi Wan Kenobi, but so much time had passed that the paths of these two managers had gone in separate directions. Van Gaal peaked when managing Barca, but he was now building his reputation again as a great coach after being sacked by them. Whereas Mourinho had one championships in 3 different countries and had been a success at all of his last three clubs. Inter won 2-0 and also broke Italian history winning the treble for the first time. Etched into folklore, the Nerazzuri have become, but what of the manager?
The next project is perhaps his most difficult of all, taking charge of the great but highly temperamental Real Madrid. It has an ego to match, if not bigger than his and they expect to win everything, but win it in style. They have no qualms of either sacking a manager after a couple of bad results, or even indicate that the manager will be sacked at the end of the season, no matter how many trophies they win. Victor Del Bosque, the current Spanish coach, was the last Real manager to win them the Champions League but it was not enough for Real, and he did not have his contract renewed.
Such a controlling coach may find himself clashing with the President Florentino Perez or their director of institutional relations (whatever that is) Emilio Butragueno over transfer policy or even team selection. Real personnel are renowned for their interfering so it may not be surprising if Mourinho comes out fighting within a few weeks of the start of the season over who selects the team. He would have to show considerable mettle too, if he were to drop their ultimo galactico in Cristiano Ronaldo, as Ronaldo would not take kindly at being shunned, whilst Florentino could feel that shirt sales may suffer if the striker is perceived undermined by being on the bench.
Managing Real has its perks though, they tend to get who they want regardless of how much they pay, and Mourinho has had his sights on Gerrard since he arrived at Chelsea. Now entering his twilight playing years, Gerrard who once resisted the overtures of the ‘The Special One’ at the eleventh hour, may not do so as Liverpool have failed to reach the Champions League and the club is in unfortunate debt.
Seven years on from the 2003 Uefa Cup Final, my ironing of shirts has still not improved as I keep creasing my lapels, but for Mourinho his managerial prowess threatens to make him one of football’s greats.
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