‘In short, there is nothing mysterious, romantic or necessarily laudable about leadership. Indeed, some of the most effective leaders have been those who, merely through having more than their fair share of psychopathic traits, were able to release antisocial behaviour in others. Their secret is that by setting an example they release a way of acting that is normally inhibited. This gives pleasure to their followers, thus reinforcing their leadership.’
Norman Dixon, On the Psychology of Military Incompetence
José Mourinho skirted the technical area and, covering his mouth so no one could read his lips, turned to the Levante left-back and insulted him.
It was about 8.30 p.m. on 25 September 2010 and Madrid were playing their fifth league match of the season. The Levante left-back, Asier del Horno, had gone to the touchline to take a throw-in late in the first half. He held the ball in his hands when, from the visitors’ bench, Mourinho could be heard directing a tirade of abuse his way, referring to his private life.
Del Horno tried to ignore it but the coach hammered him throughout the whole match, making del Horno feel sorry primarily for the coaching staff and the substitutes. Just a few feet away, sitting on the bench, the players looked on, perplexed and embarrassed. They could not believe Mourinho was capable of so viciously insulting a footballer.
That night at the Ciutat de Valencía stadium they began to realise that the most powerful man at the club, the person they would depend on professionally in the coming years, had a mysterious and chaotic side. Something that verged on the delinquent. Granero, Mateos, Dudek, Pedro León, Lass and Benzema, lined up in the dugout and almost all stunned at what they saw, said they had never had a coach like this before. This taunting of an opponent was a new experience. The only one who was not surprised by his behaviour was Lass, who between 2005 and 2007 had played for Mourinho at Chelsea.
The game provided a summary of some of the main problems that Madrid would face from there on in. The league championship, with its draining routine, would be psychologically exhausting, as they would mainly be up against against modest opponents who would be inclined to give up all attacking ambitions.
In the Ciutat de Valencía tactical situations were encountered that, despite their extreme simplicity, were not easy to resolve. With Levante having fully retreated and seeming impenetrable in their own penalty area, Madrid had no choice but to try to pass their way around their opponents until a gap finally appeared. Committed to playing on the counter-attack, as had been the case since pre-season, it was not long before Madrid displayed symptoms of extreme sluggishness. The distance between Levante’s back four, led by Ballesteros, and the goalkeeper Reina was minimal.
Mourinho was immediately aware of the situation. That opening-day draw against Mallorca had left his team only one point ahead of Barcelona. They could lose their lead over Guardiola’s side, who were playing in Bilbao at 10 p.m. that evening.
The nerves in the Madrid camp were palpable, even at the team hotel. That same morning a group of journalists, alerted by Mourinho’s entourage, had gone to the stadium to discuss and film the state of the pitch. Levante’s press officer, Emilio Nadal, was astonished to see them take out a ruler and measure the exact length of the grass, which was long and dry to slow down the ball. It was nothing new in the catalogue of tactics employed by smaller teams to deprive their more skilful opponents of the advantage of a fast pitch. Nothing illegal. A detail, however, that hardly helped keep Mourinho calm. Once the game started it was not long before he left his seat. Seeing Del Horno clearly irritated him.
What Del Horno really liked was pelota vasca, a traditional, fast-moving Basque sport played with a small rubber ball. Football was not so much his passion, more his trade. He had always been a formidable athlete and stood out at youth level for his strength, his power and his ability to arrive late in the penalty area. He was a tenacious man-marker and was surprisingly good in the air. He also stood out for his audacity, both on and off the field. The qualities that enabled him to face any game without the fear of failure also allowed him to live carelessly. A native of Biscay – and wholly attached to the town of Gallarta in the mining heart of the Somorrostro Valley – he would do anything so as not to miss the annual local festivities. One day he signed for Chelsea, Mourinho having personally requested the signing.
‘I signed for Chelsea for four years in 2005,’ he recalls. ‘In 2006, after a season in London, Valencia offered me the same salary but for twice as long. It was an important club – it was Valencia – and it meant returning to Spain. The offer was very good and, although it was a difficult decision, I accepted.’
For the Basque, Mourinho was the coach who opened the doors to the Premier League, the most attractive market in world football, a showcase that allowed him to transform his career. ‘Mourinho was a very accessible coach who took care of everything,’ he says. ‘He was great with me and my family when we arrived in England. I have a very good memory of that year because I had the opportunity to win two trophies. I was very young, and the truth is that he and the people working with him welcomed me and helped me. I’ll always be grateful for the opportunity he gave me to be part of a team like Chelsea. For the way he took a chance on me and how he behaved towards me.’
Between 2006 and 2008, Del Horno became the best left-back in Spain. He was regularly called up to the Spanish national squad by Luis Aragonés, participating in the process of qualifying for the World Cup but missing out on the final cut. Sources from the Spanish Football Federation confirm that he suffered a chronic inflammation in his right Achilles tendon during his season at Chelsea, the kind of injury that requires rest to prevent the irreversible deterioration of the affected tissue. The player played on with pain-killing injections. A year after signing his contract at Stamford Bridge, Del Horno could not jump without experiencing severe pain. He did not go to the World Cup but joined Valencia for €8 million. The tendon was badly torn. The two operations that he had on it could, at best, only prolong his career a little, and at great cost. He would have very few games left by the time he came to play Madrid: just 34 more matches in the top division.
On the night of 25 September an enduring football discovery was made as to how to frustrate Madrid. Levante’s game plan was an exercise in renunciation, a strange approach in the Spanish league, where pride in retaining possession of the ball usually prevails over any recognition of inferiority, any dedication to defending or playing on the break. Directed by Sergio Ballesteros, Levante sat back, allowed their opponents to have the ball and dug an impassable trench. They had just three shots on Casillas’s goal, each going wide. But Madrid only managed two shots on target. Never again that season did they have fewer than three shots at goal, proof of the success of Levante’s tactics, and a symptom of the deficiencies in Madrid’s functioning that would persist in subsequent years. These were the reasons for Mourinho’s exasperation and why he turned his anger towards Del Horno. But unlike his colleagues and several members of the opposition, the player did not take Mourinho seriously.
‘Everybody knows,’ says Del Horno, ‘that everyone takes their own path, and when you come together on a football pitch things completely change. That day we had a chance to get the draw; they just couldn’t figure us out. They weren’t counting on dropping two points at a ground like Levante’s. We made things difficult for them and in order to do that we had to use all the weapons available to us. Just as Mourinho used the weapons available to him. He saw he could unsettle a player to get a response from his own team, that’s all there is to it … He is a coach who likes to be close to the players, the matches … Well, he looks after his own interests.’
Mourinho’s attempt to rebuke his former player caught everyone’s attention as the night went on. Del Horno clashed with Ronaldo, claiming a foul, and provoking a free-for-all involving players from both teams. The Madrid coach intervened again against his former player. They exchanged insults. The tension continued until the end. Violence is contagious.
But referee Carlos Delgado Ferreiro only dared to send off Dr Juan Carlos Hernández. A sports medicine specialist with over 10 years of honest service to Madrid, if there was one thing