Chapter 420: Mourinho’s Philosophy on Training
Tension once again gripped London, with riot police on high alert. The provocative behavior of Millwall fans against Manchester City was beginning to surface.
Richard had already instructed Miss Heysen to report the matter to both the FA and the police. Londoners, of course, would hardly defend the Millwall supporters; they were notorious for being more emotionally charged than most fans, with a taste for trouble—especially when it came to brawls.
After the clash with Manchester City, it was Harry Redknapp’s West Ham who came to The Den, only to be met with relentless taunts and provocations. This time, it was their turn to feel the heat.
Back at Anfield, as Manchester City prepared for their second League Cup final, disaster struck. In their first match since the league title triumph, City looked more like a relegation side than champions. Liverpool beat them 2–0 in the second leg of the League Cup, sealing City’s elimination.
With that result, Liverpool advanced to face Arsène Wenger’s Arsenal in the final.
In this match, Richard could see that Mourinho, the caretaker manager, had used mostly backup players and not a single first-team regular. Richard, of course, was disappointed with the result. He was prepared to call Mourinho in for a one-on-one talk, but to his surprise, it was Mourinho who sought him out first.
"Let’s hear it. If there are hidden issues in our team build-up, pointing them out so I can correct them will please me. What wouldn’t please me is if you only came to me once the problems became glaringly obvious."
To be honest, Richard initially thought this was just another excuse from the Special One. But when Mourinho brought Prozone’s Ramm Mylvaganam along with him, Richard knew it was something serious.
The most important thing was that he had brought data.
"For example, take Zanetti. Over the past year, his physical metrics have improved, his team awareness has grown, and his passing and positioning have matured. But his technical skills have barely progressed—especially his dribbling. A year ago, his only move was using the inside of his foot to accelerate past players. A year later, he’s still relying on that same trick. Thankfully, he’s still young. If he were twenty-seven or twenty eight-, he’d either be cut or stuck in a limited backup role at here. Sir, skills are cultivated, not innate. Every player on our team can maintain possession. Pirlo, for instance, has grown into not just a sharp short passer but also an accurate long passer. That didn’t happen by chance—it’s from practice.
But here’s the problem: we don’t have any dedicated dribbling drills in our training program. It may sound absurd, but most clubs don’t spend time each week on dribbling. It’s treated like a natural talent reserved for agile, technical players. Yet dribbling is a crucial link—it connects stopping, ball control, and shooting."
The Special One’s concept of dribbling isn’t limited to carrying the ball past defenders. For him, it’s a broader skill set that reflects a player’s touch, control, and overall mastery of the ball. It’s simple to understand: players with genuine dribbling ability can escape from tight spaces, keep possession in small areas, and create new options for themselves and their teammates. They don’t always need to beat an opponent head-on. Instead, their craft allows them to deceive, to be unpredictable, and to gain the upper hand in one-on-one situations.
However, City generally do not provide specific training for dribbling. In practice sessions, players might attempt it during free play—if they succeed, that’s fine, but if they fail, it’s usually dismissed as a lack of talent. Most teams don’t systematically teach dribbling techniques, as it’s often seen as a waste of time. First, only a few players are actually given the freedom to dribble in matches. Second, most coaches won’t spend time evaluating whether others might have the potential to develop this skill.
Traditionally, dribbling skills aren’t considered the product of systematic training; talent is often seen as the decisive factor, along with physical attributes. For instance, players like Garrincha, with his crooked legs, and the short-statured Maradona showed how taller players often lacked the same agility as shorter ones—something regarded as an innate condition.
However, when Mourinho emphasized the importance of dribbling techniques, he wasn’t talking about dribbling for its own sake, but about tailoring it to fit the players’ unique characteristics.
Take Marc Overmars, the "Little Flying Man," for example. He thrived on getting to the byline and delivering crosses. Once he dribbled past defenders, he could draw the entire backline deeper, throwing the opposition’s defensive rhythm into chaos.
"Hmmm..." Richard rubbed his chin, beginning to reflect on City’s current youth training policy.
He recalled that when he first took over the club, he had already consulted with O’Neill about how to structure it. His focus back then was on building a cohesive unit, prioritizing team unity above all else. If he had focused too much on individual foot skills and allowed players to freely showcase their talents, the squad might have fallen apart and turned into a disorganized mess.
This was also why the previous youth manager, Domenec Torrent, had resigned. Ronaldinho’s presence shattered much of the structure he had worked to build, as Richard had instructed him to give the Brazilian freedom to play loose. The contradiction between philosophy and reality drove Torrent away, back to La Masia.
Back when City were still in the First Division, the club barely had a proper youth setup. The academy existed more as a training ground to rehearse first-team tactics, its sole purpose to instill teamwork and collective play.
But this season, when City officially introduced their U-17 team, the cracks became harder to ignore. Mourinho was the first to notice.
There are two kinds of great coaches: those who maximize the potential of eleven brilliant individuals, and those who make eleven ordinary players perform far beyond their limits.
From the beginning, Richard had chosen the latter path. He never believed the players he brought in were ready-made stars; if they were, they wouldn’t have joined City in the first place. His vision was to forge a team greater than the sum of its parts, built on cohesion and trust. Yet, in his obsession with unity, Richard had neglected something vital—the growth of the individual.
In truth, only Ronaldo was ever given true freedom to dribble.
Why was that?
When Richard reflected, the answer stung. The club’s philosophy had placed so much weight on teamwork that he had subconsciously stopped expecting individuality. As long as the passes connected and the shape held, he was satisfied. The manager was satisfied. The players were satisfied. Everyone was satisfied.
But was that enough?
Not at all.
Far from it.
This season, City’s defensive record looked stellar. They rarely conceded. But Richard knew better. The truth was, much of their success owed to the league’s decline. Manchester United were weakened without two of their cornerstones. Arsenal were stumbling through transition. Liverpool were still rebuilding around a teenage Michael Owen.
"While an excellent tactical philosophy can elevate a team, execution ultimately rests on the players," Mourinho said, his voice steady but piercing.
The words hit Richard like a blow. No tactic could remain ahead forever. Football was a game of cat and mouse: once a system proved dominant, rivals would dissect it, counter it, and drag things back to equilibrium—until the next revolution came along.
Richard frowned. "Is this how Ferguson built Manchester United?"
The key wasn’t just tactics. It was finding players who fit them perfectly. Richard had overlooked that truth.
Tactics themselves weren’t mysterious. Dozens of clubs had tried to mimic the best, and most had failed. Why? Because copying a system without the right players was like drawing a sword with no blade.
Did other clubs try to emulate AC Milan? Of course. But did they have Nesta, Maldini, or Costacurta at the back? Seedorf or Pirlo in midfield? Shevchenko and Inzaghi up front?
Barcelona was the same. Xavi, Iniesta, Messi, Puyol—these weren’t just cogs in a system. They were singular talents who made the system possible. You could copy the philosophy, but not the genius.
Success was always born from synergy: tactics and players, inseparable, each amplifying the other.
Richard nodded slowly, his mind racing. "So how do we resolve this?"
Mourinho paused, his gaze narrowing as if weighing the entire future of the club. Then he spoke:
"Football schools," he said, "love to think too ideally. It’s dangerous. They create philosophies that float above reality. Yes, technical training can sharpen players’ skills—but it doesn’t manufacture geniuses. Out of a hundred thousand boys training the same drills, maybe ten will become prodigies. And how many of those will actually fit into a team?
We need to develop skills, yes—but on the foundation of natural talent. Potential must be turned into ability. What we cannot do is delude ourselves, thinking endless training will turn an average lad into the next Maradona. That’s fantasy.
Our youth system must keep tactics as its backbone. But it must also nurture individual qualities. Players should be allowed to grow into themselves, to maximize their strengths, and then channel those strengths into the team. That is how you build a side that lasts—"
"Wait, wait, wait," Richard cut Mourinho off before he could launch into another long explanation. "Just tell me what’s on your mind."
"I—" Mourinho started to speak, but then swallowed his words. To be honest, his request felt a little excessive, but he couldn’t help himself. So he forced it out.
"I doubt you’d know, but I hope to attract their involvement next season."
"What? What do you mean?"
"What I mean is—why not expand our coaching staff next season? I have a few names you might want to consider," he said before pulling out a slip of paper from his pocket and handing it to Richard.
Curious, Richard looked at the paper and fell silent. After making sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him, he folded the slip neatly and slipped it into his pocket.
"I’ll consider it," he finally said. Then, without hesitation, he shifted the topic. "Now, let’s talk about the next match. With O’Neill still injured, we don’t know when he’ll be back. That means you need to prepare for the game against Real Madrid. What’s your plan?"
Whether it was coincidence or not, when Richard saw the names on the note, he instantly recognized them. In fact, it was the very quartet that would later accompany Mourinho in dominating the Premier League during the 2000s.
Baltemar Brito, the assistant manager
Rui Faria, the fitness coach
Silvino Louro, the goalkeeping coach
André Villas-Boas, the chief scout
Richard knew then—because in football circles, their names were no less significant than Marina Granovskaia’s. They were a unique group, bound together under the same future big boss: Roman Abramovich.