They're all borderline narcissists with a leaning towards control freakery. Well, the best of them are anyway.
Just don’t expect any football manager worth his salt to admit it. That would seem a little too much like the acceptance of criticism. And they’re not comfortable with being criticised. They’re not even all that fond of being questioned. Which might explain why so many of them have such a low tolerance level when it comes to the fulfilment of their pre- and post-match media duties at times.
Invariably, there’s a whole lot of huffing and puffing involved when it comes to sitting down with the ladies and gentlemen of the press which is odd in itself given that the vast majority of these verbal jousts are largely mundane, low-octane affairs. Particularly, when things are running smoothly. And yet, even so, there’s something lodged deep in their psyche which makes the whole thing feel like an inconvenience and, in some cases, even an ordeal.
When you think about it, it’s probably the one part of their working week when they are not in complete control of their own environment. The rest of the time, a good manager operates behind closed doors in his way and on their terms.
So when they are expected to explain themselves in the full view of the public perhaps it’s only natural that the heckles come up. Which is why Friday afternoon provided such a fascinating insight into the managerial mind that a psychologist would have had a field day.
On Merseyside – and not for the first time – Jurgen Klopp’s big smiley mask was slipping when he admitted that speaking to journalists had become all a bit too much of a chore now his Liverpool team is malfunctioning so spectacularly. And in Manchester, Pep Guardiola was going off on a paranoid rant when fronting up for the first time since his club’s alleged financial chicanery landed them with more than 100 charges from the Premier League.
But while Klopp was cracking up and Pep was losing the plot, closer to home, Ange Postecoglou was cleverly swerving the cameras and sending John Kennedy into bat on his behalf. Which was an intriguing and unexpected plot twist in itself, given that all that week you couldn’t pick up a paper or turn on the telly without seeing the big Aussie’s name linked to the vacant hotseat at Elland Road.
This was Postecoglou’s first chance to deal with all the speculation head on – and to say exactly what the Celtic support wanted to hear. Something along the lines of: “I categorically won’t be leaving” would have done the trick.
And yet, deliberately or not, Postecoglou left a huge question mark hanging in the air when he opted to stay locked inside his office instead. The party line is that this had been the plan all along. But even if that is the case and Kennedy really was always pencilled in to handle the front of house ahead of Saturday’s Scottish Cup tie with St Mirren, it all felt a bit like the big boss was ducking out of his duties.
Perhaps he simply couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of spending half an hour dancing through the same questions while trying not to trip himself up. In the sure knowledge that anything he did say would be written down and used against him. And that’s perfectly understandable.
But given the apparent ease with which he handles himself, it did seem strange the cat had suddenly got his tongue at such a significant moment. He’s simply not the sort to crumble under questioning. And that was evident again when Postecoglou did eventually have to break cover, shortly before kick-off on Saturday evening.
He was asked live on radio if he regarded the Leeds links as a compliment to his work. “I guess it would be if I paid any attention to it,” was how he brushed it off. It was then put to him that his levels of job satisfaction and feelings of loyalty to Celtic might be being underestimated. Presumably by the media. His response to this one was even more brutal. “I have no idea what you think about anything, mate.”
Again, textbook Postecoglou. Later on however, after another thumping win, Postecoglou explained why he had chosen to step aside on Friday afternoon. But this answer was a lot less convincing.
He said: “I just thought it was a good week for us to sort of focus on training. John’s a very, very capable guy and he handles the media well. I thought I’d have a break from everyone and everyone could have a break from me.”
And all the while, he stopped just short of slamming the door shut on the possibility of a move to England’s elite. By Sunday morning another Premier League job was up for grabs when Southampton finally called time on the discombobulating Nathan Jones. Which means the whole circus surrounding the Celtic manager’s future employment might roll back into town for the rest of this week too.
And yet, there’s something about the Leeds job in particular which might well be piquing Postecoglou’s interest for as long as it remains available. Not least because he’s almost a carbon copy of Marcelo Bielsa, the equally obsessive Argentine who masterminded the club’s rise back into England’s top flight by implementing a contemporary style of high-intensity, all-energy, attacking football.
In other words, Postecoglou couldn’t be any more up the Yorkshire outfit’s street if he kept ferrets down the front of his Australian strides. Celtic, for their part, remain satisfied that their man has no intention of bailing out on them before his work here is done.
His close relationship with chairman Peter Lawwell in particular, lends some credence to their comfort. And that’s good news where the image of the Scottish game is concerned because Postecoglou is exactly the kind of character who makes our landscape a great deal more interesting.
Put it this way, if you don’t appreciate the work he is doing in this country or if you can’t bring yourself to enjoy the manner in which he’s been going about it then you’re either a Rangers fan or a philistine. But – by their very nature – football managers can be a strange, unpredictable lot. It tends to be best not to take them for granted.
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