Jonathan Wilson Bielsa ball
Perhaps it was inevitable that Marcelo Bielsa should become part of England’s increasingly tedious culture wars. He is, after all, foreign and unusual and challenges our preconceptions. He does not fit readily into the pre-existing templates. And so what is most striking about the criticism of him this season is how much of it has missed the point. At the same time, there are those at the other extreme who regard him as an infallible, messianic figure and refuse to countenance any doubts. But at the very least, questions about Bielsa should try to take him on his own terms.
English football, though, has never been very good at that. The bizarre furore earlier this season over Bielsa’s preference for speaking to the media in Spanish stemmed from that same closed-mindedness. If he’s really so clever, ran the jibe, how come he can’t speak English after two years in Wetherby? To which there are three answers. First: linguistic ability is only one aspect of intelligence. Second: is it really beneficial for him to expend energy studying English when he could be studying opponents? And
He doesn’t send sides out to attack remorselessly through some sense of romantic compunction: he does it because he believes it’s his best chance of winning
third: while he almost certainly could learn a dozen pre-set phrases to select from then parrot after games, who benefits from him doing that rather than giving his typically ponderous explanations? Not fans, not people who actually want to understand what is happening; really, only journalists with quotes pieces to file quickly.
The only real issue with language is whether Bielsa can communicate effectively with his players. At Leeds, given they apparently adore him and given his record, it would seem he is achieving that rather better than, say, the English-speakers Dave Hockaday or Paul Heckingbottom. His win percentage, at the time of writing, is higher even than that of Don Revie.
The 6-2 defeat to Manchester United brought a widespread sucking of teeth and an insistence that Bielsa was naive, that he would have to learn the league, that you couldn’t just go to Old Trafford and play like that. Which seemed oddly irrelevant. For 30 years Bielsa has been playing like that.
There are those who dismiss him as an idealist – and three league titles, an Olympic gold and promotion from the Championship is a meagre return in a career so feted – but he doesn’t send sides out to attack remorselessly through some sense of romantic compunction: he does it because he believes it’s his best chance of winning. He is, in his own way, a pragmatist.
That game was effectively decided by two goals in the first three minutes. The first was the result of Leeds’ wide midfielders, Rodrigo and Mateusz Klich, pushing high up the pitch to create passing options. It was precisely that adventurousness that had caused Liverpool so many
problems and earned such praise on the opening day of the season. But there is a reason why few sides play like that: if possession is turned over, as it was here, huge gaps open up. Scott McTominay drove into that space and scored.
The second goal was the result of an individual error from Klich, not tracking McTominay’s run. Leeds did have chances to reduce the deficit to 2-1 before Bruno Fernandes added the third and perhaps had one been taken United would have wobbled. Perhaps they would have done had it remained 0-0 for longer. As it is, once you’re 2-0 down after three minutes, the game is effectively done – particularly against a team as good on the counter as United.
Bielsa takes the risk because, while his team may suffer some heavy defeats, he believes unsettling the opposition by confronting them in a way with which they are unfamiliar will win more games than simply bunkering down and hoping for a breakaway. Perhaps he is right in that and perhaps wrong, but there is a need at least to frame the discussion around that basic principle.
Equally, it must be remembered that Leeds were promoted with the seventh-highest wage bill in the Championship. Even with a handful of biggish signings since, in most Premier League games they play they have the poorer players. Often they make mistakes. But where other managers might encourage their players to operate within their limits, Bielsa rarely seems critical of those who, say, misplace a pass. The result is that Leeds have a huge variance between playing well and badly: only Fulham have given the ball away more with unsuccessful touches but only Aston Villa have had more shots from inside the box.
Leeds often give away cheap goals, but they often score brilliant ones. That is what makes them such fun to watch. But the two go hand in hand. To talk about Leeds needing greater solidity is to deny the essence of what makes them, and Bielsa, who they are.