England's miracle man?
He is a disciplinarian. He is stern and strict. He wears odd-shaped glasses that exaggerate the strictness quotient. He folds his arms across his chest during training and warm-ups, the beady eyes missing not a single thing. He doesn’t dance and jump around on the touchline when a player misses the ball or strays out of position. A silent glare is sufficient to let the player know what went wrong. At times, he throws out his arms in disbelief to question why a player started a particular move. He could be your loving grandfather in disguise – the sort who will rap you hard on the knuckles if you spill yellow custard on your mother’s favourite cushion. He is Fabio Capello – master tactician and the man charged with bringing back England’s World Cup glory long after 1966.
To England’s Football Association (FA), the Italian was the only manager who could master control over the players. In my opinion, the English bunch is pretty similar to the Indian cricket team – monstrous salaries and ad commissions, bloated heads and egos, with a propensity to be consistently inconsistent. Even the football-loving audience in Great Britain can draw parallels with the Indian cricket-crazy public – worshipping their players after a facile win, and then slaughtering those very idols. And the news-hungry tabloids there are no different, sniffing around like dogs on the heels of the footballers in the hopes of unearthing something scandalous.
In stepped Capello. And oversaw an almost regime change that made the players believe they could win the World Cup. Joe Cole was the first one to publicly state that the team believed it could lift the Cup. Others chimed in, gushing on and on about Capello’s tactics and discipline and strict training regime and a no-nonsense attitude. Seems like the team had always played it on its own, doing what it wanted, with an individual personality, and for the first time, it had come up against a manager who demanded a completely different behaviour.
In the past two World Cups, England had the dapper-looking, him-with-the-delicate-touch Sven-Goran Eriksson (who apparently bled the team and FA of both cash and any form of discipline). The team enjoyed Germany and Baden-Baden (its base camp in 2006), with the ubiquitous WAGs forming an essential part of the entourage. And when England lost to Portugal in the quarterfinal (with Rooney sent off for stamping on Ricardo Carvalho and the cheeky wink from Ronaldo), there was furore over Eriksson and his softie techniques.
Steve McClaren managed for a while before the Italian Grandfather was drafted in. And the changes were immediate. Capello managed to discipline the ill-mannered players, who were regularly caught brawling in pubs after matches, punching DJs, sleeping with a teammate and best friend’s partner (for this, he even snatched away the captain’s armband from the philandering John Terry). A possible midfield formation was built for a sulking Steven Gerrard (replaced from his favourite position) and the barrel-shaped Frank Lampard to fit in together. Ledley King’s jelly knees were put to rigorous tests before he was called in to the squad. James Milner and Gareth Barry clicked and flourished under Capello’s ever-watchful gaze. Even Jamie Carragher, who had prematurely resigned from international football, was cajoled and summoned.
Capello demands perfection. And performance. He isn’t afraid to bench or axe players from the star squad. He isn’t afraid of public reaction. He remonstrates players, even journalists. He rebukes them and gets no egg on his face. Probably he is an existentialist — “I exist to win”, says the man.
While addressing the troops in Afghanistan on Friday, English PM David Cameron described the Italian as “the most important man in England”. If the Three Lions win their second World Cup, it will be a monumental achievement. If England fail again, the collective weakness will haunt them for ages, for even Capello is incapable of performing complete miracles with this English team.
To England’s Football Association (FA), the Italian was the only manager who could master control over the players. In my opinion, the English bunch is pretty similar to the Indian cricket team – monstrous salaries and ad commissions, bloated heads and egos, with a propensity to be consistently inconsistent. Even the football-loving audience in Great Britain can draw parallels with the Indian cricket-crazy public – worshipping their players after a facile win, and then slaughtering those very idols. And the news-hungry tabloids there are no different, sniffing around like dogs on the heels of the footballers in the hopes of unearthing something scandalous.
In stepped Capello. And oversaw an almost regime change that made the players believe they could win the World Cup. Joe Cole was the first one to publicly state that the team believed it could lift the Cup. Others chimed in, gushing on and on about Capello’s tactics and discipline and strict training regime and a no-nonsense attitude. Seems like the team had always played it on its own, doing what it wanted, with an individual personality, and for the first time, it had come up against a manager who demanded a completely different behaviour.
In the past two World Cups, England had the dapper-looking, him-with-the-delicate-touch Sven-Goran Eriksson (who apparently bled the team and FA of both cash and any form of discipline). The team enjoyed Germany and Baden-Baden (its base camp in 2006), with the ubiquitous WAGs forming an essential part of the entourage. And when England lost to Portugal in the quarterfinal (with Rooney sent off for stamping on Ricardo Carvalho and the cheeky wink from Ronaldo), there was furore over Eriksson and his softie techniques.
Steve McClaren managed for a while before the Italian Grandfather was drafted in. And the changes were immediate. Capello managed to discipline the ill-mannered players, who were regularly caught brawling in pubs after matches, punching DJs, sleeping with a teammate and best friend’s partner (for this, he even snatched away the captain’s armband from the philandering John Terry). A possible midfield formation was built for a sulking Steven Gerrard (replaced from his favourite position) and the barrel-shaped Frank Lampard to fit in together. Ledley King’s jelly knees were put to rigorous tests before he was called in to the squad. James Milner and Gareth Barry clicked and flourished under Capello’s ever-watchful gaze. Even Jamie Carragher, who had prematurely resigned from international football, was cajoled and summoned.
Capello demands perfection. And performance. He isn’t afraid to bench or axe players from the star squad. He isn’t afraid of public reaction. He remonstrates players, even journalists. He rebukes them and gets no egg on his face. Probably he is an existentialist — “I exist to win”, says the man.
While addressing the troops in Afghanistan on Friday, English PM David Cameron described the Italian as “the most important man in England”. If the Three Lions win their second World Cup, it will be a monumental achievement. If England fail again, the collective weakness will haunt them for ages, for even Capello is incapable of performing complete miracles with this English team.
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