Derby could doom Wee Charlie and that rare breed of gentle giant
IT was just after breakfast, only a few short hours after the rampant champagne-fuelled celebrations into the early morning had ended, but Carlo Ancelotti knew exactly what he was saying. Still in Madrid’s five-star Tivoli Lisboa hotel, the ‘fat boy with the bowl full of Emilian tortellini’ (his own words, not mine) told an Italian journalist friend: ‘Yes we’ve made history by winning La Decima — but this is Real Madrid. Lose two games next season and I’ll still be an “idiot”.’
Date: May 25, 2014. Hotel Address: Liberty Street, Lisbon. And of course Ancelotti was speaking after Madrid’s two principal teams, sworn enemies, had contested the Champions League Final and he had lifted the ‘cup with the big ears’ for the fifth time as player or coach.
Not that winning liberated him from the sad truth of his statement.
Two games? His team have lost almost one out of every three matches in 2015 (six defeats in 19 outings).
Worse is the fact that he is now a black smudge on Madrid’s pristine-white history, having already lost to Atletico — the club which was unable to register a single win over Real between 1999 and 2013 — four times in a season.
Perhaps worst of all, the European champions’ utterly humiliating 4-0 defeat at the ferocious Calderón stadium last time these two met, just over two months ago, meant Atletico had won all three home ‘derbis’ by a 7-0 aggregate this term.
In fact, during each of the seven defeats in 11 derbies Ancelotti has had to soak up as Madrid manager against Diego Simeone’s bruising buccaneers, his team hasn’t scored once. None of which make Ancelotti an idiot.
Where they do, cumulatively, leave him is in perhaps the most embarrassing position of his career.
N Not b because if h he l oses theh imminent Champions League quarter-final against Spain’s champions Ancelotti fears the sack.
Like Norman Stanley Fletcher in Porridge, there are some penalties in his chosen profession which ‘Carletto’ (Wee Charlie) treats as an occupational hazard.
You might argue that losing a 3-0 lead over Liverpool in Istanbul almost exactly a decade ago should constitute that moment of maximum embarrassment. Not so.
Ancelotti not only famously doled out revenge on Rafa Benitez’s team two years later — when Milan reached the 2007 final they watched the Liverpool v Chelsea second semi-final together, cheering and roaring for the Reds more hoarsely than any Koppite to go through so that history could be re-visited — he could also come to terms with the remarkable 3-3-and-penalties defeat.
His view: ‘My team did its very best to win. So I couldn’t be angry. I think this was destiny. I’ve managed nearly 900 matches in my career and two where my team played exceptionally well were that Istanbul final and the semi against Manchester United in 2007.’
S So thishi i is a diff different red-and-whited d hi thorn in his side. Constant defeats during which Real Madrid have not, by any stretch, done their best.
Things have, in fact, been getting incrementally worse. May’s final in Lisbon was won the very second that Sergio Ramos made it 1-1 in the 93rd minute. Atletico were, almost literally, out on their feet.
Since then, it has been as if Simeone and Co have soaked up all the anger, all the humiliation, all the impotent rage they felt when Cristiano Ronaldo venerated his penalty goal (to kill an already dead match) for 4-1 with his ‘I’m actually the Incredible Hulk’ celebration.
In the drama of that night, and amidst the history of Madrid’s tenth title, it’s often forgotten that when Rafa Varane kicked the ball at Atletico’s Argentinian manager with two minutes left in extra-time, Simeone chased him onto the pitch then had to be both restrained and persuaded to leave the playing surface before being sent off.
Simeone, applauded out of the press conference later that night in appreciation of having won the Spanish title and of how heroically Atletico clung on to Diego Godin’s headedhd lead in Lisbon, spoke kindly about Varane being ‘just a kid’ with ‘a great future’ in the post-match post-mortem.
But, trust me, that was one of the spurs chafing at Simeone’s skin all summer until the Spanish Supercup second leg when Varane was pressed, exposed for awareness and sharpness and Mario Mandzukic bagged the goal which started Atletico’s winning run against Madrid this season.
‘The most important, most intelligent player in every great team is usually a midfielder,’ Ancelotti believes.
He was one such, as was Simeone, plus Luis Enrique, Pep Guardiola (and Max Allegri at a far lower level) at four of the other eight Champions League quarterfinalists.
However, as a coach, Carletto couldn’t be more different from the breed represented by Simeone, ‘Lucho’ and Guardiola. And that’s something else, other than Ancelotti’s future employment with Madrid, which is at stake this week.
From the moment when elite footballers, and then run-of-the-mill players, began to earn money per season which made them absolutely financially secure for life, the worth of the coach who is only authoritarian was at an end.
If you can’t ‘convince’ and ‘enlist’ your multi-millionaire squad at a club which is expected to win one, or more, of the great trophies each season, then you are dead in the water.
But Guardiola, Mourinho and Simeone come from a school where they not only master the teaching, coaxing, convincing, but show ferocious authoritarian tendencies, too. ‘My way or the high way’ is something they not only dare to say to a player worth £50m-plus, they believe it’s their right.
Ancelotti is built differently, having won 17 trophies as a coach seeking only intelligence, diligence and intensity of effort.
He neither wants nor needs to instil fear, to make his players blind followers of a regimental doctrine — he actually treats them as responsible grown-ups.
If his team act like novice kids at the Calderon on Tuesday, once again, then Ancelotti still won’t be an idiot.
But an endangered species — yes.