Pep Guardiola: Another Way of Winning: The Biography (44 page)

They were an extraordinary bunch of players, an exceptional team. But they were human, too.

Imperceptibly, for those brief weeks Guardiola may have forgotten that football belongs mostly to the players.

Guardiola knew that the system, the style, had to become automatic, second nature, as it had been for most of his four years in charge.
And, when everybody knows what to do,
talent appears to complete the team effort. But changes of personnel and of formation in the final months of his tenure had created a certain level of disorder. So if the players felt, perhaps not
even knowing why, that things were not going well, they would look for Messi.

But against Chelsea and Madrid, when the Argentinian had the ball, the two centre backs and two defensive midfielders were on top of him and it became apparent that there was a way to stop him.
He has talent to overcome that and more, but not every time. In those games, why didn’t he try to surprise opponents by appearing in wide positions, leaving the four central defensive players
marking shadows? There weren’t enough players overlapping down the flanks and Cuenca and Tello rarely got one on one with the full backs in those key games – and when they did, they
more often than not failed to beat them. Pep’s gamble on youth over experience, his experiment, had failed.

Separated by just four days, those two games at the Camp Nou against Madrid and then Chelsea, seemed to confirm that the fragile, perfect balance seemed slightly but inexorably broken.

‘President, let’s meet tomorrow,’ Pep told Sandro Rosell the night of the KO by Chelsea in the Champions League; the next morning, the recent history of the
club changed for ever.

Two days later, after announcing his departure to the players, Guardiola observed the light training session at Sant Joan Despí from a discreet distance, before jumping into his car to
travel the ten minutes or so that separates the club’s training complex from the Camp Nou.

The ensuing press conference, to announce to the world his imminent departure, was crammed to the rafters with local and international media; while down near the front row sat Puyol,
Piqué, Cesc, Xavi, Busquets, Valdés and a few players. Messi was not to be seen – he didn’t want the cameras to capture his emotions. Sky Sports broadcast it live. Even in
the UK, where some polls put Barcelona as the fifth largest football team in terms of followers, the
rumours about his future were having a huge media impact. Sky Sports
announced exclusively that Pep was about to say goodbye to all of us.

The set-up of the press conference and positioning of the lead characters was a smart piece of staging. The coach was sitting to the right of the president; to his left, director of football
Andoni Zubizarreta. It was an attempt by the club to show that they had taken Pep’s decision well, they were showing the calm, institutional face of a club that hadn’t always dealt well
with change.

Barcelona’s president solemnly announced that Guardiola would not continue as manager of the club. He hugged the coach. It was an embrace that seemed a little forced; perhaps it caught Pep
by surprise.

Guardiola went on to ask people to understand his decision and explained his reasons in much the same way that he had done to his players.

‘I’m deeply sorry about the uncertainty that I’ve created. I have always thought that things are best done in the short term. Four years is an eternity and I didn’t want
to be tied to a contract that wouldn’t allow me to make my own decisions. In October or November I told the president that the end was in sight for me, but I couldn’t make my decision
public because it would have been too complicated. The reason is very simple. It has been four years and that time can wear you out and take its toll. I’m drained. The reason is that I have
to get my passion back. I wouldn’t continue as a Barcelona coach should.’

He had no more to give and needed to recharge. Or, put differently: he could give a lot to the club if he stayed, but not everything it needed.

‘I’m grateful for your patience, I know I have been a pain, here every three days with you all,’ he said to the press. Now he would abandon the dugout for a time, although he
pointed out that ‘sooner or later’ he would coach again. At the same time he tried to stop any potential rumours spreading. ‘Leo is here’ was the only forthcoming
explanation from Guardiola about Messi’s absence, a comment supported by Rosell himself.

In the dressing room, the players decided that the captains would be present in the media room; that meant Puyol, Xavi, Iniesta and
Valdés. However, others joined
them to show their respect for Pep – but not
la Pulga
. ‘Messi is here in spirit,’ Rosell insisted.

Leo cries, but not publicly. The Argentinian went on Facebook a few hours later to explain why he hadn’t been there: ‘I want to thank Pep with all my heart for everything that he has
done for me both professionally and personally. Due to the emotional nature of the event, I preferred not to be in the media conference. I wanted to be away from the press because they were going
to look for sad faces and that is something I have decided not to show.’ As a twelve-year-old, when he first joined Barcelona, Messi would hide away from everybody whenever he cried,
especially so as not to upset his dad.

And then came the revelation that nobody had anticipated. Rosell, who was notably solemn, announced that Tito Vilanova would be Pep’s replacement. His assistant had received the club offer
at Guardiola’s house two days earlier but had accepted just an hour before the press conference.

Pep did leave one doubt hanging in the air that appeared to go unnoticed. ‘Tito’s appointment wasn’t my decision, it was Zubizarreta’s. I have just found it out myself
this morning.’ Nobody guessed that there could have been any sort of conflict although soon those words would be used to create controversy that suggested that without Guardiola life at
Barcelona would be more difficult.

The club, however, wanted to demonstrate publicly their commitment to Vilanova and not give any cause for speculation at a time of uncertainty and potential instability. It was
Zubizarreta’s chance to prove that he had an immediate solution and Rosell accepted it. With the continuity that Guardiola’s right-hand man would bring, the club was giving itself time
to decide if it was the right decision or whether a change of direction was needed. ‘Announcing that we had chosen Tito three or four days after accepting Pep’s departure would have
been counter-productive for Tito. The club could have been accused of not having found a better coach, of not having a plan,’ a source at the club admits.

But the replacement can be interpreted differently. Since October, when Pep began having serious doubts about staying for another
season, he imagined that his departure
included Tito. ‘We’ either all stay or ‘we’ go, Pep had thought. A third option emerged when Zubizarreta mentioned Guardiola’s assistant as his successor as early as
November. Everybody suspected Tito would probably decline the offer. In reality, it only took him an hour to accept the promotion. It caught Pep by surprise even though they both talked about it
and Guardiola accepted that it was Tito’s right to take over – he was not going to interfere with that.

Zubizarreta explained the new Barcelona era to the media: ‘The important thing is the idea, the principle that makes us different. We’ll keep fastening our seat belts and I’m
sure that we’re going to have a great time.’ Helped by the immediate and apparently seamless transition, the club appeared to be taking everything in their stride.

If a moment perfectly encapsulated the emotion and the feelings of the club, the fans and Pep, it was his farewell at the Camp Nou.

Pep’s send-off coincided with the Catalan derby against Espanyol, but, since neither team had anything to play for, it became Pep Guardiola’s leaving party from the moment the first
whistle blew. Hundreds of fans left their messages of gratitude and good luck on an enormous mural that the club had set up outside the stadium. A huge banner covering an equally huge section of
the stand welcomed his entry on to the pitch and showed a picture of the coach with the message ‘
T’estimem Pep
’ (We love you, Pep).

Guardiola directed his final home game with his usual level of intensity. ‘Come on, Pedro, we’ve been working together for five years and you’re still doing this to me!!’
he shouted at the youngster he had discovered while at Barça B.

It even seemed like the referee wanted to join in the party, with a laid-back approach to some of his decisions that benefited Barcelona. The game ended 4-0 to Barça, with all four goals
coming from Lionel Messi, marking yet another record, one of many: he had scored fifty league goals, beating the European league record previously set by Dudu Georgescu in the 1976–7 season
with Dynamo Bucharest.
After scoring his first that night at the Camp Nou, Messi pointed across to Pep, dedicating it to his mentor. The manager answered pointing his finger
back at him.

After his fourth, Messi, ran over to the touchline followed by his team-mates to embrace the coach who had been instrumental in making him the player he is today. It was poignant. Theatrical,
but honest. Two of the biggest characters of the biggest soap opera in the world were filling the screen with an emotional hug, a public display of affection, unashamed in showing their eternal
gratitude for each other. Pep whispered in Messi’s ear: ‘Thanks for everything.’

And after the game, Pep was to give a speech out on the pitch. He took the microphone and shuffled around uncomfortably on his own while the players rallied round him. Standing near the centre
circle, he watched with the rest of the crowd as a video montage was played on the giant screens, set to the music of Coldplay. Then, his favourite song ‘
Que tinguem sort
’ (I
hope we are lucky) by Catalan songwriter Lluís Llach was played, the words echoing around the stadium thanks to the thousands of supporters singing along.

Pep looked into the stands while everyone was waiting for his words. The stadium was full to capacity with 88,044 spectators, sitting in anticipation. Some holding each other. Fully grown men
trying to hide their tears. Young girls taking pictures on their phones to capture the moment. As everyone remained on their feet, Pep’s dad, Valentí, had to sit down because his legs
were trembling.

The man considered the club’s favourite son was leaving home, again. It was goodbye to an older brother for some, a father figure for others, a Messiah, even, for a few. A nation, a club
and its fans were feeling orphaned.

Imagine.

Imagine having to represent all those roles. The weight of all that, the pressure. Can you understand now why he had to go?

‘Pep is a privileged man. He is one of the few people that I know who in his private and professional life cultivates the urgent, the important and the essential.’
Trying to work him out, Guardiola’s friend Evarist Murtra read a speech in the Catalan Parliament the day the coach was paid homage to by the Catalan civil society in November 2011. Pep
complied with the urgency of winning titles and matches; he related to the importance of honouring noble codes that underpin sport; and, finally, he was loyal to the institution he represented and
the spirit of its founders and followers – and that was essential.

In an interview at the time, former Real Madrid director, coach and player Jorge Valdano chose well-crafted words to describe his influence. ‘He believes in football as a territory where
greatness is possible, because he never cheats, he is always brave, he takes away all the miseries of the game. He is an authentic example of leadership not only applicable in the world of
football. Definitively a leader.’

Football, sport, is all that matters in Spain for the masses. The media ignore other walks of life (culture, formation, critical thinking) and people cling on to sports symbols as their only
valid point of reference. It places a huge responsibility on those individuals and is a sign of foolishness in our culture. Pep has always been acutely aware of the transcendence of his behaviour
and the importance of the institution he represents, so he has moderated and modulated his conduct accordingly. Society in general has been grateful to him.

That Gold Medal offered by the Catalan Parliament was given to him ‘because of his track record as an elite sportsman, for his success in his time as a manager, for his projection of a
cultured Catalunya, civil and open, that has succeeded in a very notable way, and for his values that he has transmitted in an exemplary way, such as sportsmanship, teamwork, effort and personal
growth, very positive values not just from an individual point of view but also for personal progress’.

Excessive? Some would argue that on another day perhaps, but
that at this moment in history, when Catalonia needs so many leading examples after falling time and time again
into despair, attacked on a daily basis from so many political flanks, it was just what the doctor ordered.

But he often insisted, as he did in his own speech in response to the parliamentary homage (in front of so many members of the political and social elite, the military, finance) that he
‘didn’t want to be an example of anything’. Was anybody listening?

The idolising of Guardiola, some of it forced upon society by a faithful media and some genuinely spontaneous, was born of an objective reality but, little by little, it was transformed into a
mass delirium that retained hardly any of the original feeling.

Success had created an image of Pep, a popular perception based perhaps upon some primary religious and churlish mechanisms, that did not belong to himself – he was not the owner of that
duplicate. Adulation had created an unnecessary pedestal that Pep himself rejected.