Mourinho: Further Anatomy of a Winner Read online

  Mourinho, then, was to be liberally rewarded for the wisdom he had shown in getting those qualifications in Scotland; they were necessary if he was to have any realistic hope of progressing to the heights he envisaged. But why did he have to go abroad for them? Surprising though it may be, given his own country’s contribution to the game, Portugal did not subscribe to the main-stream European coaching curriculum, as used by around forty member countries of UEFA. And why specifically Scotland? ‘Coaches came here from all over the world,’ recalled Tosh McKinlay, a former Celtic and Scotland player destined to encounter Mourinho much later. ‘When I was sixteen or seventeen, they used to ask me to go down – they needed young players as sort of guinea pigs for their training exercises – and I can remember seeing the great Italian coaches like Fabio Capello and Arrigo Sacchi as well as our own, led by Alex Ferguson.’ So José Mourinho, having taken advice as to where he should seek his certificate, applied and was accepted for the annual summer course of the Scottish Football Association, held at Largs on the Ayrshire coast.

  He arrived with two other Portuguese students and was assigned to a group of fellow foreigners, Americans and Europeans in the main. There were more than 150 students in all. One of the assessors that year was the former Scotland forward Paul Sturrock, later to take charge at St Johnstone, Dundee United, Plymouth Argyle (twice), Southampton, Sheffield Wednesday, Swindon Town and Southend United. ‘He didn’t stand out,’ said Sturrock. ‘In fact, I can’t remember him.’ Sturrock’s erstwhile international colleague Gordon Strachan was also there, starting out on the new career that was to take him to Coventry City, Southampton, Celtic and Middlesbrough. Strachan, too, scratched his head. ‘You are put in groups of twelve on these courses,’ he said, ‘and don’t really mix with people from other groups unless you stroll down to the pub for a chat in the evening. Maybe José didn’t go to the pub.’ Andy Roxburgh remembers the student Mourinho. Just. Roxburgh was Scotland’s national coach at the time and he told me: ‘I’ve spoken to José about it since and what he remembers is being impressed that the national team manager of Scotland was also taking the coaching courses.’ Yes, but what did Roxburgh himself remember? ‘It’s very difficult for me to recall every detail of everyone who was on a course.’ His assistant Ross Mathie, an SFA stalwart (Roxburgh has for several years been technical director of UEFA), was the course director that year. What’s more, he was looking after the international group of aspirants. He said: ‘I can definitely picture these three Portuguese guys. In fact, I recall José having a photograph taken with Andy. But I’d be leading you up the garden path if I pretended there was much more I could add.’ So, in summary, it might be said that Mourinho’s impact on his teachers and fellow students did not lead them to conclude they had been favoured by the presence of greatness.

  He had, however, obtained the first half of the requisite certificate at the age of twenty-five and felt the better for it. ‘I went back to my young players at Setúbal,’ he was later to tell Roxburgh, ‘and, because of what I had learned, made a difference.’

  Twelve years after that first visit to Largs, he returned – in the extraordinary interim, Mourinho had worked with Bobby Robson and then Louis van Gaal and sat alongside them on the bench while Porto and Barcelona collected trophies galore – to complete his qualification for the UEFA licence. Normally a coach does the two parts of the course in consecutive summers, but Mourinho had been too busy learning at football’s university of life, acquiring experience more valuable than any piece of paper as his status (and salary) soared and he worked daily with the likes of Luís Figo, Rivaldo and Ronaldo. He did, however, want that certificate. And, being out of work, he was free to go and get it. So he flew back to Scotland. He could afford business class now.

  Among the other students in the European Championship summer of 2000 were Gary Bollan, then a Scottish Premier League player with St Johnstone, who would become a player-coach with Clyde and take charge of Livingston; and Tosh McKinlay, who was playing for Kilmarnock at the time and has since filled a variety of roles from agent to radio analyst. They remember Mourinho. ‘As soon as he walked on to that training pitch,’ said McKinlay, ‘you knew he was different from the rest of us. It was how organised he was, and the way he put things across.’

  The students gathered on 24 June, as the European Championship in Holland and Belgium reached the quarter-final stage, and that evening Mourinho watched on television as Portugal beat Turkey 2–0. All four quarter-finals– the other matches ended Italy 2 Romania 0, France 2 Spain 1 and Holland 6 Yugoslavia 1 – were used by Ross Mathie for match-analysis tests. The students sat in the lecture theatre at the Inverclyde Sports Centre with pens and notebooks at the ready and, watching a large screen, logged the matches. Mourinho was on his usual form. He sailed through the exam. As you would expect. ‘I was in José’s group,’ said Gary Bollan, ‘and it was immediately obvious that he had come with a coaching background. When he did training exercises, he was much more firm and outspoken than the others. He exuded confidence in his own ability. There was no hesitation, no self-doubt. Of course we’d heard he’d been at Barcelona with Bobby Robson and all that. But José never brought it up, never bragged about it even when we popped down to the pub after finishing for the day. He was a good lad. Very down-to-earth.’

  McKinlay agreed: ‘It was inspiring to hear him talk about football. We had quite a few chats. One night during the course, they have a dinner and I was sitting next to him. I started by asking him about Jorge Cadete, the Portuguese striker I’d played with at Celtic – José knew him from Sporting Lisbon – and we got on to all sorts of football stuff. Three years later, I bumped into him at Ibrox.’ By then Mourinho was in charge of Porto. ‘He’d come to Glasgow to watch Celtic play Rangers shortly before they met his team in the UEFA Cup final. I wasn’t sure if he’d remember me because he’d become so successful since we last met, but he comes over and says, “Hi – how are you? What are you doing here?” I explained that I was doing a bit of work for Celtic TV. I wished him good luck for the final but added, “You know where my allegiance lies!” He just laughed. Since then I’ve seen him on the television a lot and I just love listening to the guy because he talks sense.’

  Having charmed the Scottish FA’s class of 2000, Mourinho flew home with his certificate. At last he was a qualified professional coach. And in the next six years he was to go it alone in spectacular style, winning the national championships of both Portugal and England twice, plus each of the two European titles. Plus four domestic cups. Succeeding, indeed, with such an intensity as to make even a Robson or a Van Gaal gasp. And there was still Inter to come. And Real Madrid.

  No wonder much is still said of the benefits of a Scottish education.

  Mourinho had, of course, availed himself of quite a bit of supplementary tuition between 1988 and 2000, thanks to his relationship with Manuel Fernandes. Sporting had recalled their erstwhile star forward from Ovar as assistant coach in preparation for the arrival of a big-name foreigner. The trouble was that the new boss, an Englishman, spoke no Portuguese. Manuel Fernandes was talking it over with the president who had invited him back to the club, José de Sousa Cintra, when a solution occurred to him: why not engage José Mourinho, who spoke very good English and could act as interpreter? Sousa Cintra readily agreed and, Mourinho having been sent for, the trio went to Lisbon airport to meet the flight from London. Eventually a familiar face came through customs. Mourinho stepped forward. ‘Hello, Mister,’ he said. For the first time. The first of countless times. Because that is what you call a head coach, regardless of his nationality, in Portugal, and Spain and Italy for that matter. The British taught the world to play football. So, just as the British use the French word for a cook, some nationalities defer to the original masters of the game of football. Sir Bobby Robson, a most patriotic Englishman, never minded that.

  ‘Hello, Mister. I’m José Mourinho’

  Actually what Mourinho said to Bobby Robson upon greeting
him that day at Lisbon airport was: ‘Hello, Mister. I’m José Mourinho.’ And, after handshakes, he went on to explain why he would not be hurrying off; he was to be Robson’s interpreter. Robson had had little idea of what he would encounter in a country he had hitherto known only as a very pleasant holiday destination. Of course he knew a fair amount about Portuguese football: he had played against Portugal twice in England’s successful qualifying campaign for the 1962 World Cup, and, when England manager, had endured the disappointment of a 1–0 defeat by the Portuguese during the opening phase of the 1986 tournament in Mexico. But he did not know the language. So he was glad to hear this smart young man speak English with such clarity and confidence. Meanwhile an older man, short and tanned and neatly dressed, stood to one side, smiling broadly. ‘I am speaking,’ Mourinho continued, ‘on behalf of the president.’ He gestured to the older man, who extended his own hand, and Robson was introduced to Sousa Cintra, his new employer.

  On the drive into the city, Robson reflected that it could have been a worse start. ‘Two things struck me straight away,’ he said. ‘The standard of José’s English. And the fact that he was a nice-looking boy. Too good-looking for my liking! I remember telling him one day when we were having photographs, “Don’t stand next to me, José – you’ll make me look ugly.”’

  Mourinho was supposed to be an interpreter plain and simple. Sousa Cintra’s plan was for Manuel Fernandes to be Robson’s right-hand man. As soon as Robson had signed his contract in England, the president had announced to the Portuguese media that Manuel Fernandes would return to Sporting as the Englishman’s assistant, presumably in order to reassure fans that the club’s traditions would be observed. ‘Manuel Fernandes could not have done the number-one job,’ Robson reflected. ‘He wasn’t quite a good enough coach at that level. His previous job had been with Ovarense, who have never been in the first division. They are what we’d call a Conference-sized club, I suppose. But he was a very popular figure both within the club and among the fans. José had been working as a schoolteacher and doing a bit of coaching with him. So they’d come to Sporting to be my back-up.’

  It was almost inevitable that the language issue would make Robson lean towards Mourinho: ‘He was there with me on the pitch every day. Behind me. While I picked up a little bit of Portuguese.’ Hitherto Robson had worked only with English or English-speaking players in his homeland, and Eindhoven, where he went after parting company with the national squad following the World Cup semi-final defeat by Germany on penalties in 1990, was hardly a problem because English is widely spoken in Holland. ‘Working with the Portuguese players on the pitch wasn’t really a problem for me either – once I’m out there, I’ve always been able to get by – but every now and again something has to be explained carefully. José was very good. He listened, learned, looked, remembered. He was bright, alert and intelligent. But what I liked best was that, when I’d indicate a player and say to José, “Tell him this, tell him that,” I always had the feeling that José was saying it the way I would have said it. That was his knack. He knew he had my backing so he’d tell a player to get closer to his opponent or push up a bit more and they’d respond as if I’d told them. I could see – it was the same reaction. Whether it helped that he came from a footballing background, I don’t know, but he had a true bond with me. Also I said to him, “José, I want to know every word these players are saying in the dressing room, what they’re saying about the team, and the tactics, and about me. Whatever Figo is muttering about me, you bloody well tell me.”’

  Those players included Jorge Cadete – later to share the Celtic dressing room with Tosh McKinlay – as well as Luís Figo, who, though young, was already demonstrating the rich talent that was to make him Portugal’s most capped footballer of all time. So Mourinho became Robson’s eyes and ears. And mouth, on occasion. ‘If I was upset with any player, or needed to get a point over strongly, José wouldn’t pull any of my punches. There’s always a temptation for an interpreter to do that, but José was very assertive. He never watered down the message. He wasn’t afraid. Even with Figo.’

  The words Robson used to describe his aide’s playing prowess – when, being a man short for an eight against eight or nine against nine in training, he would tell Mourinho to get a bib and take a certain position – were ‘keen’ and ‘enthusiastic’. It was meant kindly. ‘He had a certain amount of fitness and, through working with the players, developed it. So, when I used him as a fill-in player, he did all right. When we later went to Barcelona, in fact, he’d be on the same pitch as not only Figo but Ronaldo, Hristo Stoichkov, Pep Guardiola and all the other fantastic players.’ Could he move among such company without risking embarrassment? ‘Mmm. For a short period. For a twenty-minute practice period. He couldn’t do it in a match! But no, he didn’t embarrass himself.’

  Sporting did. They sacked Robson before his first season was out. Sousa Cintra took a snap decision when Carlos Queiróz (later to become Sir Alex Ferguson’s assistant at Manchester United for two spells, before and after a season in charge of Real Madrid, and national coach of Portugal a second time) became available. Manuel Fernandes was shown the door too, as was Mourinho, the pair walking together once more. But Sporting had made a mistake that was to play straight into the hands of their rivals Porto. Shortly afterwards, while Robson was still in Lisbon, he met Mourinho for lunch and declared that Porto had made him an offer. ‘José just gasped. “Mister,” he said. “Don’t let that pass you by. You must go there.” And he told me why, explained what a great place it was for football. I asked him if he’d like to come and he said he’d love to.’

  At Porto, Robson truly established himself as one of English coaching’s most successful exports, emulating his Dutch achievement by winning the national championship twice in a row. And again Mourinho was by his side. On an enhanced salary of £35,000 a year, which was to keep multiplying until, at Barcelona, he became football’s highest-paid interpreter. ‘I never gave him a coaching job,’ said Robson. ‘He assisted. He expressed my instructions to the players. I never handed the team over to him, even for half an hour, in all the years he was with me. But during our time at Porto he began to offer suggestions. I’d arrive in the morning and say, “José, we’re doing this and this, you’ve seen me work, you know how I want it done,” and he might chip in with an idea or two. He was growing into the job.’

  Mourinho, in his application to take the Scottish FA course in 2000, stated that he had been ‘assistant coach’ with Robson at Porto and that was not taking too much of a liberty. ‘I did what an assistant coach is meant to do,’ he later told an interviewer, ‘and with Robson, who lives and breathes for the pitch, that meant planning training sessions.’ In fact he did more than that. Robson had noticed that he was an astute reader of the game and decided to send him to spy on forthcoming opponents. ‘He’d come back and hand me a dossier that was absolutely first class. I mean first class. As good as anything I’ve ever received. Here he was, in his early thirties, never been a player, never been a coach to speak of either, giving me reports as good as anything I ever got from the top professional people I’d brought in to scout for me at World Cups when I was with England – Dave Sexton, Howard Wilkinson, the lot. There would be the way the teams played in the match he’d been sent to – both teams – with defence and attack covered very well, patterns of play, nicely set out with diagrams and a different colour for each team. All as clear as a bell. I remember telling him, “Well done, son.”

  ‘I think he enjoyed being with me. He loved being on the training pitch and, because I’d come to respect him as a student of the game, I’d sit him down after matches and we’d have long conversations. We’d talk about who’d played well and who hadn’t, where we’d gone wrong and what we could do about it.’ Several years later, their paths having diverged at Barcelona, Robson was to be in his native north-east of England, reviving Newcastle United, and Mourinho back at Porto, doing much the same thing, this time as the boss,
surrounded by his own coterie of assistants. During his first spell at the club, the president, Jorge Nuno Pinto da Costa, had noted his capabilities both on and off the training pitch, said Robson. ‘In all my dealings with the president, I’d taken José in with me and he’d fought on my behalf. The president obviously took a shine to him during those meetings. Also he remembered what happened on the pitch in our time. Two championships and a Portuguese Cup in two seasons – you can’t do much better than that. And José was by my side all the way. No wonder the president kept an eye on him.’

  Porto initially continued to thrive after Robson’s departure in 1996 for Barcelona (though a lean spell was to follow, opening the door for Mourinho to return to the club in 2002). Robson had had no hesitation in inviting Mourinho to join him in the new adventure at Barcelona. Indeed the only condition Robson laid down before taking the job was that Mourinho came too. Once again he was to be multi-functional: every time Robson met the Barcelona president, Josep Lluís Núñez, or vice-president, Joan Gaspart, he would be there. The master and his voice were now friends, and when Robson set up home in Sitges, a short drive down the Mediterranean coast from Catalunya’s capital, Mourinho did likewise; he could afford it, too, on a salary that would rise to more than £300,000 a year.

  ‘We saw each other socially,’ said Robson. ‘My wife, Elsie, became friendly with his wife, Matilde, and we’d all go out for meals together in the evenings. The talk always turned to football. Quite soon after we sat down, usually. What did the wives think? Oh, they understood. They’d just give us a look that said, “Uh-oh, here we go again.” Matilde had some interest in the game, a slight knowledge, and sometimes they would listen to us, but she and Elsie were never too intrusive. Basically, they would talk about their things and we would talk about football.’