and he had three terrifying mottos: ‘Work today to run tomorrow’; ‘Die but finish’; and ‘Victory belongs to the strong’. The players had a love–hate relationship with him; Ravanelli said he couldn’t cope without him, while Vialli once became so incensed by Ventrone’s approach that he locked him in a cupboard and called the police, not the last time the Carabinieri would take an interest in Juve’s methods of physical conditioning. It was Lippi, however, who remained Juventus’s most important asset. ‘He was like a light switch for me,’ Zidane said. ‘He switched me on and I understood what it meant to work for something that mattered. Before I arrived in Italy, football was a job, sure, but most of all it was about enjoying myself. After I arrived in Turin, the desire to win things took over.’
This is essentially what defines Italian football: the absolute primacy of winning. In other major footballing nations, to varying extents, emphasis is placed on the spectacle; attacking football is respected and sometimes considered an end in itself. But in Italy the result is paramount and the end justifies the means, which largely explains why Italian sides are content to win tactically rather than through finesse and panache. There’s certainly a reverence towards certain types of stylish player, particularly classy liberos and gifted trequartisti, but teams are under little pressure to provide dazzling collective performances like Ajax or Barcelona. Italian football therefore places huge emphasis on workmanlike players performing functional roles.
‘To Italian players, it’s a job. It’s not fun, not a game,’ said Fabio Capello. ‘When I was coaching Real Madrid, training would end and everyone would stay and eat, get a massage, go to the gym together … in Italy, they’ll stay as long as they have to, then they’ll go. We don’t have this joy inside us. It’s almost as if they don’t like being footballers.’ Capello was another celebrated Italian tactician, and his experience at Real Madrid during 1996/97 was particularly enlightening.
Capello had succeeded Arrigo Sacchi at Milan in 1992 and won four Serie A titles in five seasons, strung together an unprecedented 58-game unbeaten run and won the Champions League in 1994 with a memorable 4–0 thrashing of Barcelona. Capello was less ideologically attack-minded than the revolutionary Sacchi, but he provided creative players with more licence to express themselves, usually from wide roles in a 4–4–2. After Real Madrid slumped to sixth place in 1995/96, their worst season in nearly two decades, they turned to Capello. President Lorenzo Sanz declared him ‘the greatest manager in the world’ upon his appointment. Capello won the league in his first season. He then promptly returned to Italy.
While Capello brought success to the Bernabéu, that wasn’t enough for Real’s supporters and president, none of whom appreciated Real’s style – or lack of it – under Capello. While Barcelona showcased speed and trickery courtesy of Ronaldo’s legendary single season at the Camp Nou, Real were boring, functional and tactical; essentially, Capello had made them Italian. Raúl González, Spanish football’s new superstar forward, was asked to play from the left, with new signings Davor Šuker and Predrag Mijatović preferred up front. Real’s most common tactic involved centre-back Fernando Hierro launching long balls for overlapping left-back Roberto Carlos, a perfectly legitimate tactic that Real supporters nevertheless considered too direct, too brutal. Real insisted on inserting a clause in Capello’s contract that prevented him from joining Barcelona for three years after leaving Madrid, but if Real were so determined to compete with Barcelona in terms of attractive football, Capello heading for Catalonia would have helped redress the balance. ‘I believe the most important thing is to win,’ Capello once said. ‘Nothing else matters.’
‘In Spain, everything that comes from Italy is seen in a negative light,’ said defender José Amavisca, quoted in Gabriele Marcotti’s biography of Capello. ‘Because he’s Italian, everything Capello did was seen as ugly, dirty, nasty or boring.’ Capello’s training sessions were typically Italian: long periods spent drilling the back four into the correct shape, and a strong emphasis on hardcore fitness work. He spent much of the season squabbling with Sanz, the Real president, partly because Capello consistently refused to select his son Fernando, a graduate of the club’s academy. He also encountered problems with forwards Mijatović and Šuker, who were frequently substituted when Capello summoned defensive reinforcements. ‘My matches only ever last 75 minutes,’ complained Šuker. More than half of the Croatian’s La Liga starts ended with his withdrawal, a stark contrast to the star treatment Real Madrid forwards are usually afforded. His replacement was always a defender or defensive midfielder.
Capello was justified in sacrificing big names, because his tactical acumen was outstanding. During 1996/97 Real Madrid regularly started poorly and found themselves a goal behind, before Capello’s instructions enabled them to readjust and clinch victory. Real came from behind to win with incredible regularity: against Real Sociedad, Valencia, Atlético Madrid, Deportivo de La Coruña, Hércules, Racing Santander, Sevilla and Sporting Gijón.
The Sevilla comeback, in mid-April, was most significant. Capello started with his usual 4–4–2, with Raúl drifting inside from the left, but Real were absolutely battered by a rampant Sevilla, particularly down the flanks. Tarik Oulida, the Ajax-schooled left-winger, crossed for right-winger José Mari to head home in the first minute, then Oulida made it 2–0. Real could have easily been 4–0 down. Therefore, Capello made two tactical changes midway through the first half. Veteran defender Manuel Sanchís replaced beleaguered right-back Chendo. Next, Capello sacrificed Šuker and introduced defensive midfielder Zé Roberto. The home supporters were understandably bemused; at 2–0 down Real needed goals, and Capello had taken off a striker.
First, though, Capello knew Real required defensive solidity. Raúl pushed up front, Zé Roberto played on the left of a midfield diamond and screened Roberto Carlos. Real now coped down the flanks and could work their way into the game. On the stroke of half-time, Clarence Seedorf got a goal back, then Raúl scored the equaliser in the second half. Hierro headed home seven minutes from time, and then Seedorf teed up Mijatović. Real had been 2–0 down, Capello had made two first-half substitutions purely for tactical reasons, including substituting his top scorer, and they ended up winning 4–2.
Winning in this fashion would have been celebrated in Capello’s home country, but Real demanded more spectacular performances, and despite the title success, this was a loveless marriage that lasted just a year. Curiously, a decade later Capello returned for a second spell at the Bernabéu, with somewhat familiar consequences; he won the league, then he was sacked. ‘We have to find a coach who gives us a bit more,’ said Real’s sporting director, after Capello’s second departure. ‘We need a coach who, as well as getting results – which are very important – can help us enjoy our football again.’ The identity of the sporting director? Mijatović, the frequently substituted forward from Capello’s first stint. Two seasons, two titles, two acrimonious departures. Italian methods were not popular outside Italy.
But they were clearly conducive to success, because the three most respected Italian coaches of this era completed an extraordinary treble in 1996/97. Lippi triumphed in Serie A with Juventus, Capello was victorious in La Liga with Real Madrid, while Giovanni Trapattoni won the Bundesliga with Bayern Munich.
This was Trapattoni’s second spell with Bayern, after a disappointing 1994/95 campaign that he blamed on not mastering German properly, although upon his return his communication skills had only improved slightly. Trapattoni initially attempted to use a four-man defence, before reverting to the sweeper system that was more typically German, and indeed more typically Trapattoni, after some disappointing early results, including a 3–1 aggregate UEFA Cup defeat to Valencia. ‘Too many changes have upset their rhythm,’ claimed Trapattoni’s predecessor Otto Rehhagel after that European exit. ‘Bayern are paying for the mistakes in signing the wrong players and not sticking to a definite tactical system.’ Not sticking to a definite tactical system, though, was entirely Trapattoni’s plan.
His tactical tinkering continued to frustrate and caused problems among his key players. In late November Bayern were 2–0 up at half-time against relegation strugglers Hansa Rostock,
