Mauricio Pochettino left very little to the imagination in his post match comments yesterday afternoon.
As those of you who have spent any significant time abroad will know, when foreigners become less guarded, their English improves enormously.
In a nutshell anyone who thought Poch genuinely believed all that piffle he was spouting parrot fashion from Levy, about the club following its own unique path of not investing in player retention and not investing in strengthening the squad etc, has just experienced a bit of a shock to their system.
You can readily spot these people because they are either stone cold silent or they are beginning each sentence with a jabbering ‘Bbbbbbbbbut’.
For my part I think it’s quite amusing that it didn’t take so long for what was sneered at as my ‘eccentric ranting’ to be revealed as quite mainstream. And those who were propagating the myths about the Academy, Penury and so forth are now feeling rather isolated and frankly stupid.
It was wholly irrational to invent all the excuses you did and now you are sat there reading this incandescent – not rage but with embarrassment.
Levy ‘s message was greeted by ordinary people (or as I prefer ordinary experts – after all they have been watching football for decades) railing angrily against its emptiness and spin. Railing against the smugness employed to pass off business optimisation as the football going well.
Whenever you question where the cups are (that’s THE metric by the way) the dialogue degenerates into a series of fudging, mental cup de sacs, ‘You don’t remember the 90’s do you?’ and the equally ubiquitous ‘Careful what you wish for’. Anti-thought, unimaginative dullness.
Comparatively speaking Pochettino came out blazing yesterday.
It reminded me of the final scene in Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid movie where hopeless outnumbered by heavily armed Bolivian soldiers the two through open then doors firing into the harshness of the sunlight, the dust and the rain of Bolivian bullets.
The gaffer spoke from the heart to PA Sport. ‘Maybe I am talking too much, maybe I should breathe.’ this is the sort of thing a father would say to his child.
There was a reiteration of him being replaced. This time though, minus the spite of his previous ‘or another manager’ line.
‘…the most important thing is that tomorrow all can change because it’s not in my hands. It’s not my decision to be here or not. I depend on my bosses and my boss.’ was more considered and almost certainly reflected that he’d delivered Champions League football, he was ahead f schedule and was now in a credible position to argue his case with anyone.
‘We need to talk a lot between us and the club. That’s a bit up to Daniel and the club. After four years we need to assess that period and try to win big trophies. We need to review things.’
This too was gentle, but designed to make ENICs blood run cold.
Trophies as an actually task – not a coincidental possibility along the way.
A review. Or as we grown ups call such things, a paradigm shift.
There was also this line which again was gentle but essentially urinated over the defence mechanisms of every Flat Earther on the round round planet.
‘…Deliver the best work in trying to win what other clubs are winning.’
In essence, ‘I’m glad you enjoyed colouring the arch and cheering the contract extensions, applauding the net spend and pretending all that other utterly meaningless guano meant something but what real football clubs are doing is wining silverware, so snap out of it.’
‘I don’t know if the club will agree with me or not, but we are going to talk next week to create the new project or what I think that we need to do together again to try to improve.’
A new project?!
Opposed to the the current one, that anyone with a brain could see was time expired.
Pochettino has thrown the proverbial spanner in the works here.
This wasn’t on message.
This wasn’t towing the party line.
This was not in the script.
What this was in truth, just enough to make me want to forgive Poch for all his foibles.
As Uncle Monty said in Withal & I, ‘I am preparing myself to forgive you.’
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