Brave New World

by Guillem Balague

  I was lucky enough to room with him before games. Individual rooms were certainly not the norm. Try telling that to today’s players.

  I didn’t sleep for the first few nights, I just looked at him, but after a while the notion that it was Maradona wore off. He was just my teammate. On one occasion, we were lying on the bed watching football. I don’t remember which game it was, but as all players do, we started criticising players. ‘Look at that shot, he’s rubbish!’ One player dribbled past one, then another, but then lost it, and I found myself saying, ‘Who does that guy think he is? Maradona?’ I immediately covered my mouth, but he was already pissing himself with laughter.

  Remote controls didn’t really exist back then. The physio was treating me one afternoon when I was lying on the bed next to Maradona at the Embajador Hotel in Buenos Aires. I can’t remember what was on the TV, but at one point we looked at each other as if to say, ‘What the hell is this nonsense?’ And I unintentionally said to him, ‘Diego, change that rubbish and put something else on.’ Diego got off the bed and started pressing some buttons on the TV. He suddenly stopped, realised and said to me, ‘Bloody hell, mate, who do you think you are? I’m Maradona! You can change the bloody channel yourself!’ and he cracked up.

  I wouldn’t say we are friends, but we are fond of each other. I was at his testimonial match on what was a special day in November 2001 at Boca’s ground. We all cried when he made his speech.

  It went like this: ‘I’ve been waiting . . . I’ve been waiting for this game for so long and it’s all over. I hope my love for football and your love for me never waver. I’ve made mistakes and I’ve paid for them. But my love of the ball is still pure.’

  How could we not cry as our idol took his leave?

  *

  Back in 1991, before Maradona arrived, we headed to Tenerife for a friendly against El Indio Solari’s side. We went on to Barcelona and played at UE Figueres where Jorge D’Alessandro was in charge. During that tour I discovered the city of Barcelona, which was gearing up for the Olympic Games. Argentina didn’t qualify for the football competition, which was incredible because we had a wonderful team. They called us ‘the goal and touch crew’.

  I fell in love with the city and when the opportunity to join Espanyol arose, I didn’t think twice. I had a chance to go to Boca or one of a number of clubs in Mexico. The Catalan side’s offer was the least financially attractive and it was the riskiest option because they’d just clinched promotion.

  I didn’t know much about what was there, but Karina, who was pregnant with Sebastiano, and I chose to head to Barcelona in 1994. That decision had a huge bearing on my career, and my life.

  Griffa, who had played for Espanyol and had become a huge influence on me in my formative years, came with us on that initial trip to Europe and he was there when I signed the contract with the Catalan club.

  *

  We played in the UEFA Cup once and in the Intertoto Cup on a couple of occasions, but in general terms suffering and enjoyment were served up in equal measure at Espanyol. I remember the last derby at Sarrià Stadium in 1997 before it was demolished. It was an uneven contest.

  We were in the drop zone, with a new manager and a lengthy injury list, including Toni Jimenéz, the current goalkeeping coach at Tottenham. Bobby Robson’s Barcelona had to win to keep the pressure on Fabio Capello’s Real Madrid, so they started their strongest line-up, including Ronaldo, then FIFA World Player of the Year, and it was my job to mark him. The Brazilian didn’t get many touches of the ball. I don’t know how I managed it!

  Well, I did have a plan. I prepared myself mentally: ‘What’s the best way to mark Ronaldo? If they pass to him and I give him space to run into, he’ll kill me. So, what should I do? Not give him space. If he turns, either I foul him or he’ll do me . . .’

  You simply had to anticipate Ronaldo’s movement. I did not need my coach to tell me. I know I had to use all of the tools at my disposal, those that I call ‘basic concepts’, the things you learn during your football education.

  A topic that the Spurs coaching group discuss nowadays and that worries us is the fact that footballers sometimes lack those ‘basic concepts’. We have extraordinary methodology and preparation, so players are well drilled when it comes to tactics. But as for those ‘basic concepts’, those things that help you be better on the pitch, not so much. I am talking about how to take advantage of situations, how to unsettle someone, how to use non-footballing weapons to beat your opponent, how to utilise your intelligence, how to be smart. They’re gradually getting lost. They’ve stopped being transmitted from generation to generation, from old to young. Even coaches have forgotten how to pass down that knowledge.

  The media also contributes to this bout of collective amnesia. An example would be Toby Alderweireld, who I signed for Tottenham and has been one of the best centre-backs in England over the last two years. It makes me laugh the way they pinpoint how he is one of the best because he doesn’t commit fouls. A centre-back that doesn’t commit fouls! In my time, if you didn’t commit fouls, it was because you couldn’t play at centre-back. Twenty years ago, if you didn’t go in hard and mark your territory, strikers would eat you alive. And when you got a yellow card, at least it was after giving someone a good kick. I’d say to the striker, ‘If you’re going to get past me or if you’re going to nutmeg me, think twice about it, because I’ll kill you.’ Of course I didn’t, but at least he thought that I might.

  Now the defender who commits the fewest fouls is the best. You’ve got to be kidding me! How times change!

  *

  Before Bielsa’s arrival at Espanyol was confirmed, I had the chance to move on, but I stayed, as I was very much looking forward to playing under him. Even though he stayed only six months before he left to take the reins at the national team, our encounter was crucial for me, as he ended up waking me up from a period of lethargy. I was seemingly asleep, hibernating. He knew the Pochettino from Newell’s, but the one he met six years later at Espanyol was something else. I was too much in my comfort zone. In fact, I was lost but I did not know it.

  We had three training sessions during pre-season under Bielsa. The first was from 7.30 a.m., a 45-minute run at the Sant Cugat High Performance Training Centre with inclines and descents. We had heart-rate monitors and they told us how fast we each had to run. We headed back in, showered, had breakfast, relaxed for an hour and then it was off to the gym for a 90-minute session. We’d shower again and eat lunch. Then it was siesta time and finally training with Bielsa.

  We didn’t see Marcelo during the morning, so he’d come in for the afternoon session, bursting with energy. It was all about tactical work with him, but there were days when we were shattered. We were doing some drills on one of those scorching hot afternoons and I said to him, ‘Marcelo’ – calling him by his first name was a bad start – ‘Have we got much longer to go?’

  ‘Five minutes.’ And we kept working. At the end, a furious Bielsa called me over. ‘Look, that’s the last thing I expected from you. It confirms to me just what you’ve become.’ He laid into me and I cried. I went home in tears because I felt so embarrassed, as embarrassed as I’ve ever felt in front of someone. Everything he said was right. I’d been blinded, trapped in my own world. I had stopped doing what had got me there in the first place.

  He helped me to move on and later called me when he was in charge of the national team. He handed me my full international debut against Netherlands in 1999. If he hadn’t gone to Espanyol, I never would’ve become a senior international.

  *

  It was a good move not to leave Espanyol in 1999–2000, despite receiving offers from big clubs. Valencia were one of those clubs, but their coach Héctor Cúper phoned me to give me a series of explanations which, rather than convincing me to go there, seemed to say, ‘I don’t know if I want you.’ I feel quite sensitive about these details. I thought, ‘The club makes a written offer and then the coach tells me he doesn’t know if I’m go
ing to play or not and doesn’t show any enthusiasm whatsoever. Mmm, interesting . . .’ That style of approach taught me a lot. In fact, now I understand it even more. There was also talk of Liverpool, but it felt like England was on another planet back then.

  I stayed because the club was in a difficult financial position. When I turned Valencia down, I got a call from José Manuel Lara. His family run a publishing house called Planeta and he was the club’s major shareholder. ‘We know some clubs want you. We aren’t doing well financially, but we want to make this a big club and you’re key to that. We want you to finish your career at Espanyol.’ It was music to my ears. I had a year left on my contract, but they offered me an improved six-year deal, which I accepted. I signed the pre-agreement, but that document was never presented to the federation, as it hinged on the agreement between the club, Lara and Planeta Deportivo, the company linked to the publishing house that wanted to take Espanyol to another level, by buying players and loaning them to the club.

  That season we won the Copa del Rey final against Atlético Madrid in Valencia, which was a unique achievement after 60 years without a trophy. That victory has possibly greater significance than any of my other accomplishments.

  After winning the cup, the relationship between Planeta and Espanyol broke down and I found myself in the middle. I could’ve asked for the club to honour the new contract that was offered to me, as it had been signed by the president, but it would’ve put the club in a tight situation because they could only finance it if Planeta kept helping out, which was no longer the case. So I stayed loyal to the club during the final year of my old contract. So much was written about whether I’d sign a new deal, but in January an offer came in from Paris Saint-Germain. The club asked me to accept it and leave. Which I did.

  It meant going from Barcelona, a city that I knew well and felt comfortable in, to Paris, where I had to learn a new language and sharpen my senses. I was at PSG when the club signed Ronaldinho and we had other incredible players like Nicolas Anelka and Mikel Arteta. It all made a huge impact on me. It was a fast-paced bout of personal development. The league was strong, with the likes of Lyon, Marseille, Lille, Girondins de Bordeaux, which were sharing the titles.

  While at PSG, Bielsa picked me for the 2002 World Cup squad and took me to Japan, although it was a huge disappointment since, despite being favourites, we got knocked out in the group stage. We had Batistuta, Ayala, Zanetti, Verón, Simeone, Aimar, Crespo . . . We lost 1–0 to England, with David Beckham converting a penalty after I supposedly fouled Michael Owen. He had the ball, I stuck a leg out and he dived. Owen was more Argentinian than me at that very moment. I retired from international football at the age of 30 in 2002, although not for that reason – I wanted to focus on club football.

  After a year and a half, 70 games and four goals for PSG, I moved on to Bordeaux, despite there being an offer from Villarreal on the table. I love wine and that was part of my thought process. While I was at PSG, I lived in Chambourcy where the training ground was, on the outskirts of Paris. My landlord worked for the club and was also a salesman for a major winery so he sent me bottles of champagne and fine wines. Jean-Louis Triaud, the Bordeaux president, owned a château and I was able to fulfil my dream of visiting the different wine regions. I believe Bordeaux has the best wine in the world, but it’s also a very special region in terms of the energy it gives off.

  Just six months later, in January 2004, I went back to Espanyol, three years after leaving. Well, after I was asked to leave.

  *

  Those six months from the day I went back to Espanyol until the final game of the season were among my happiest as a player. It was a real mixed bag. Luis Fernández had replaced Javier Clemente as coach, with the team rooted to the bottom of the table and nine points from safety, although there was still half a season left to play. I felt a very intense feeling when I got there. I was welcomed with open arms and was expected to unite a team that was riddled with divisions and problems. I accepted the challenge and was ready for it. That sense of responsibility made me feel important and the experience will always be with me as Luis Fernández allowed me to work very closely with him. He could confide in me and I was part of the coaching staff’s decision-making process. We discussed each and every conundrum, which helped me understand many different aspects of the game. I’m very grateful to him for that.

  The last match of the campaign was on the horizon. We’d picked up plenty of points and were on the verge of leaving the nightmare prospect of relegation behind. We were at home to John Toshack’s Murcia, knowing that victory would guarantee safety. We had a mix of veterans, including the talented Iván de la Peña, and academy products like Raúl Tamudo and Alberto Lopo. Both youngsters got on the scoresheet and we stayed up.

  Yes, those were six deeply emotional months.

  *

  In the summer of 2006, Ernesto Valverde took over at Espanyol and decided that he didn’t want me in the squad for the following season because he felt that I controlled the dressing room. In reality, it was completely the opposite. I defended the previous coach, Miguel Ángel Lotina, even in situations when I disagreed with him. There’s plenty of proof and many people know that I was always loyal to my coaches. In football there are people who live off confusion and you sometimes don’t know who the good and bad apples are.

  I talked it over with Valverde. It was hard for me to accept, but I understood over time. When you take over, it’s normal to seek out the influential individuals. You ask and you find out, but you may be given incorrect advice. The truth is I couldn’t have lasted much longer at Espanyol anyway. I’d already given all that I had to give. I thought that I could contribute in the dressing room by calling upon my experience, but Valverde made the right call.

  I saw him some time later and said, ‘Thank you so much for not letting me stay on for another year.’

  If I hadn’t been pushed to hang up my boots, I’d still be struggling out on a pitch somewhere today. That’s the honest truth, although of course it was hard to take at the time.

  After almost 300 games over 12 years, including two Copas del Rey (one in 2000 and the one we’d just won in 2006), I said goodbye to the club at a very emotional press conference. My family was there, including my 12-year-old son Sebastiano, who was born during my first season at the club. I cried. I think it was because I saw him cry. Or maybe not. I cried because I cried.

  I had to leave the room for five minutes to compose myself.

  *

  I sometimes get involved in rondos with the players, but I bestow upon myself the privilege of only having to go in the middle to win the ball back when I want to. Come on, if it’s a bad pass, the person who played it has to pay for it. I often play in the football tennis World Cup finals at the Tottenham training ground. You never completely stop being a footballer, even after you hang up your boots.

  In 2006 I had offers from Dubai, Qatar and the United States. A few Spanish teams were also interested, but my family and I needed the stability that we could find in Barcelona. Retiring at 34 gave me the chance to start thinking about my future, prepare for life as a coach and try to do other things.

  Having said that, the first thing I did was fly to Argentina after many years away, for a trip to Bariloche, which I had owed to myself since my teenage years. I wanted to get away from everything. I didn’t want to watch television or see photos from training in newspapers. It was really good for me. Almost two months later, we returned to Barcelona for the children to go back to school. I received several tributes, from friends in Espanyol 3.0, a lobby group that wanted to take over the institution, and from the club, including the presentation of a gold and diamond badge before a game against Celta.

  My friend Pepe Gay, a professor at the private Escuela de Administración de Empresas business school, recommended a masters degree in sports management, which filled up my mornings from Monday to Friday. A new routine was established and I didn’t mind it one bit. I didn’t miss a
nything. I was happy that year, very happy.

  Something clicked in my head. I came out of the bubble that Bielsa had talked about all those years before and changed the way I viewed things.

  I bought myself a small Smart car which I drove everywhere and I spent time with people from all over the world. My football career had ended and I had to open myself up to a new working environment. I did keep going to watch Espanyol every other week and forged a great relationship with former coach Javier Azkargorta. I started getting my coaching badges.

  Three years after retiring, I was already coaching in the top tier.

  *

  People say that I started managing Espanyol women’s team, but it’s not true. I had to tread carefully because, given my name, if I’d done the hours needed to get my badges with the youth team, the coach would’ve thought that I was gunning for his job. So we found a solution. Ramón Catalá, who was in charge of the Espanyol Academy and had been my fitness coach, invited me to join Emili Montagut, who coached the women, in training during the evenings and that way Ramón would sign off my placement. So that’s what I did. At the start I went once a week, but the girls asked why I didn’t show up more often. I ended up going almost every day. I loved it so much and even played football with them as a way of keeping fit.

  Spending the evenings with them was a splendid experience. If I’d been able to instil the passion that those girls had in all the teams I’ve coached, we’d have won the lot. The boys should watch them closely, see how much they put in and their training conditions, yet they enjoy it so much. The way they compete, how they battle, how they react when a teammate plays a bad pass, how much they want to win and how united they are, what an example to all. We’d train at 10 p.m. in Sant Adrià in deepest winter with such little light that you could hardly see anything on the synthetic pitch. That sort of commitment takes something special.