José Mourinho

I spent, in Luis Figo's Madrid, a blissful couple of hours seeing on TV Deco's Barcelona team against Mourinho's London team. And I read this morning the on-line British press about yesterday's Chelsea-Barça. The tone towards Mourinho varies from awe to contempt. And I ask myself: how should a looked down at , genetically (by not being English) prone to be patronized, suave southerner, sun-glasses wearer, football manager deal with the locals? By being modest and obedient like a model schoolboy?Give me a break. ( I lived in London too, great five years it was. Learned how to read a cricket results table, committed myself to the Public School doctrinaire codes of "effortless superiority" and "never explain, never apologize", always attacked my (British) debate adversaries with maximal verbal violence and always enjoyed their exotic behavior patterns. )

I hope Mourinho is secretly enjoying himself too. A chip in the shoulder always shows, so he better just relax and go on with his agitprop tactics. Just hope he retires from Chelsea at the end of a un-spoilt winning campaign. If he leaves the English shores with both the Premiership and the Champion's League silverware he will acquire, with time, mythical status. If he stays on, defeat will inevitably follow someday, and there will be an orgy of retribution from every possible corner of the land.

Like a gifted and extremely successful theatre actor, José Mourinho should plan carefully to achieve Full Glory just before the curtain falls.