Amorin, Spalletti and the mystery manager

We are in crisis, dear friends. There’s no point beating about the bush: we are in crisis. We no longer know how to speak, how to construct a logical argument that finds charm and persuasiveness in the elegance of its phrasing, the use of punctuation and the choice of words. The art of rhetoric now belongs to influencers, who know how to speak to people because they are guided by algorithms. Essentially, they say things that people want to hear, because a digital survey – the algorithm, in fact – has determined that this is the topic worth discussing. Communication today consists of short, blunt phrases, almost like slogans.

There are managers who speak like this, such as Fàbregas, and others who ramble on, such as Spalletti. The former has now realised how to win us over, whilst the latter makes the mistake of stirring up controversy. Then there’s Amorim, who lives up to the tradition of Portuguese managers being skilled at expressing themselves. The Milan manager, despite being at the mercy of lacklustre football and mediocre results, comes across as brilliant and convincing. The problem for him is that in football, if you keep losing, you almost become a parody of yourself. Amorim continues to field a succession of ill-chosen line-ups, yet he explains them well, faces questions without losing heart, and avoids becoming bitter in the face of the inevitable pointed queries. It is a shrewd way of handling the situation, especially at a club where there is a lack of clear leadership from the board. Ibra has reappeared after months away, though he is probably just a mirage. Other figures are emerging under Cardinale’s leadership, but it is not clear who they are or what their roles will be. By the time we find out, Gonçalo Ramos will have scored loads of goals, so it will be too late anyway.

Faced with difficulties, Spalletti digs his heels in, becoming someone other than himself. The Conte issue, brought up by fickle supporters and rehashed in the press, irritates him, when in fact he should treat it with indifference, trying to ascertain in private (within the club) whether there is any truth to it. On the subject of social media controversies, Spalletti then makes a valid point: “With a phone in their hand, everyone spews out their own weaknesses”, whilst making it clear, however, that he is nonetheless annoyed by what is being said and written, when in fact he shouldn’t attach any importance to it. But regardless of this, a certain nervousness on the part of many managers is understandable, not least because they are forced to speak almost every day, even when they may not feel like it. It’s a job that no longer ends on the pitch, but extends to standing in front of a microphone, where explaining everything openly can prove counterproductive.

I would suggest to many of them (Spalletti in particular) that they cultivate the art of pause. A meaningful silence, perhaps accompanied by a smile, which dissolves the tension into mystery.