Sven-Goran Eriksson

A delighted Crozier was relieved that the waiting was over. He remembered it thus: ‘Lazio found that once it was announced that Sven was going to be the England manager, the public profile that goes with that job made it impossible for him to continue in Rome. There were English journalists camped outside the training ground every day and, as a lot of managers have found, once the players know you are going, discipline and motivation is eroded. It was a difficult situation all round, and just before Christmas we all agreed that, even with the best intentions, the halfway house arrangement just wasn’t going to work. Events were conspiring to make it in the interests of all parties to say: “That’s it. Let’s move on.”’

CHAPTER FIVE THE MAN AND HIS METHODS

‘Its mystery is its life. We must not let in daylight upon magic.’

WALTER BAGEHOT, Social scientist 1826–1877.

It ill behoves a newspaperman to say it, but the most perspicacious comment I have heard, or read, about Sven-Goran Eriksson’s public persona came from the BBC’s Head of Sport, Peter Salmon. Contrasting Eriksson’s detached, almost introverted manner with the rentaquote familiarity of his predecessors, Salmon said: ‘The interesting thing about the England managers that I’ve seen is that the closer we’ve got to them, the more difficult the relationship becomes. You’re no longer as impressed as you were in the days when they were still remote figures. The better we know them, the less we respect them. Eriksson has brought the authority back to his position. He’s rather mysterious, hard to get a handle on. We feel there must be a lot going on up there. We might not know what it is, but it has obviously got results.’ It was only when we got to know the man that he lost a lot of our respect.

Salmon’s theme was echoed by Gareth Southgate, the most erudite and articulate of all England players, who says: ‘The fact that we didn’t really know him is a tremendous strength for a manager to have. That distance brought him more respect. Because we didn’t know too much about him, and vice-versa, he was able to detach himself when he made decisions. He took those decisions purely on the basis of the players he saw and the form they were in. One of his strengths has been concentrating on performance. Because he’s from another country, the nationalistic pride of playing for England hasn’t been at the forefront of his thinking. We’re all very proud to play for England, that goes without saying, but that’s also true of every other country. Every team we face is going to be passionate about playing for their country, so you have to produce the quality to be better than them. He has been able to distinguish between the two elements, and I think these players are more comfortable with that than people were in the past.’

Eriksson was neither a ranter and raver, nor a John Bull patriot. ‘At half-time,’ Southgate says, ‘he won’t talk for maybe five minutes, until everybody has calmed down and got their thoughts together. As a manager, you need to get your message across in a short space of time, and flying off the handle isn’t constructive. He never shouted at us, but then I don’t think there’s been a performance where he’s needed to. He has a calming, relaxing influence that helps. If you get a manager who is agitated and not totally in control, I’m sure it transmits itself to the players.’

People who have played for, or worked with, him are among the best equipped to define Eriksson’s je ne sais quoi. David Platt, recruited by Eriksson to manage the England Under-21 team, comes into both categories. He told me: ‘In my two years at Sampdoria, playing for him, I knew I enjoyed his training, I knew I enjoyed working for him and I had massive respect for him, but when people asked me why, I could never put my finger on it. Now that he’s over here, and I’m working for him again, I think about it a lot, but I still can’t hang my hat on what it is that he’s got. I could eulogize, and come out with all sorts of things, but then you’d go to him and he’d probably say: “No, I’m not like that at all.” I don’t think he has ever consciously decided: “Right, this is the way I’m going to be.” It’s just the way he has evolved.

‘I think he gets his respect from his ruthlessness. He doesn’t come across that way, and nobody is ever frightened of him, but he does command total respect. Everybody understands that if you don’t do whatever he wants, or if you fall below his standards, he’ll have you out and lose no sleep over it. There are no favourites, no concessions made. He loved Roberto Mancini, but he left him out at Lazio, and doing it didn’t bother him at all. Sven is controlled, and in control, whatever he does. At Sampdoria, he never came into the dressing room at half-time angry. He was always calm, and if he did have a go at us he was always totally in control of his emotions.

‘Mancini came out with a good statement the other day, to the effect that things don’t annoy Sven. He’s an enigma in that respect. I really don’t know if it’s a conscious effort on his part, telling himself: “I’m not going to let this get to me.” It’s probably a characteristic he’s developed over his career. You can imagine the politicking that goes on within the FA, and sometimes it gets me stirred up. I find myself thinking: “What on earth is going on here?”, and it must be so much worse for Sven. There are obstacles put in his way that would make a saint swear, but his attitude is always: “Fair enough, I’ll come at this a different way.” Nothing seems to annoy him, or knock him out of his stride. He follows his own path, and won’t veer off it, come what may.’

The furore over whether Lee Bowyer and Jonathan Woodgate of Leeds United should be chosen for England after the Sarfraz Nejeib court case provided a good example of Eriksson’s single-minded approach. He wanted to pick both players, despite FA disapproval. Platt, who was party to the discussions on the subject, explained: ‘I warned Sven that if he picked them, there would be a media circus, and other people at the FA spelled that out to him, but his reaction was: “Well, I’ll deal with it.” Not “Bloody hell, perhaps I’d better avoid all that.” You can imagine other people, myself included, thinking: “Hang on, let’s work out the pros and cons here – where could this all lead?” For Sven, the court had administered justice, and now it was 100 per cent about football and nothing to do with what the reaction might be. If you present him with a major problem, he has the ability to absorb it and deal with it. There’s no panic, no “How are we going to get out of this one?” He’s very good like that. I think the politics he had to handle in Italy equipped him for just about anything.’

On the training pitch, Eriksson worked by the power of suggestion. ‘A good phrase, that,’ Platt said. ‘He would stand there while we were playing a practice match, and he might walk over to me, and then Attilio Lombardo, and say “Why don’t you switch?” It wouldn’t be a case of stopping everything and saying: “Right, now I want you to do this.” He’d just sidle over every now and then and suggest something. Players would do it, and if it worked it would become ingrained in their subconscious. With good players, that’s what happens – you don’t have to keep telling them over and over again. That way it becomes too robotic.’

A man of egalitarian principles, Eriksson does not hold with the concept of favourites, but Mancini came close to it, as did Jonas Thern, the multitalented Swedish midfielder who played for him at Benfica. Thern, recently manager at Halmstad, followed the same path, from part-time football in Sweden to the high-pressure environment of one of the most famous clubs in the world. In an interview for this book, he told me: ‘In Portugal, the country was different, the people were different and especially the football was different. It was more technical, and we trained much harder, as full-time professionals. In Sweden at that time, you had to have a job, as well as football, to make a good living, and I had been working for my father’s printing company in Malmo. In Portugal I went full-time, and found it hard work at first. Often we trained morning and afternoon.’

Thern’s mentor had been Roy Hodgson, who had signed him for Malmo. He says: ‘Roy and Bob Houghton, when they came to Sweden in the late seventies, made Swedish football what it is today. They brought English organisation to our game and a new way of playing. Instead of standing off and counter-attacking they pressed when the opposition had the ball. They introduced all the things I’d seen as a kid every Saturday when I watched English football on television. There was conflict in Sweden before that style was accepted, but after a few years even the most conservative Swedish trainers changed over to the new, English approach. Nowadays, Swedish trainers are brought up on the methods and style of play that Roy and Bob brought over. ‘Svennis’ [as Eriksson is known to friends and family] made minor changes to suit Swedish players better, and when those changes took full effect, he won the UEFA Cup with Gothenburg.

‘When we were at Benfica, they weren’t a really rich club, but they had enough money to sign good players, and they also had their famous name to trade on. It was quite something to pull on the shirt of Benfica, with all their history. I think we had a squad of 24, and every one of them was an international of some sort. You expected to win things with players like that around you. Svennis was good at bringing the best out of everyone and finding their best roles. He’s very clever at moulding players so that they fit together to form the best possible team. Stefan Schwarz [another Swede] was a good example. He got the best out of him, to the benefit of the team, at left-back, left-wing and centre midfield.’

Thern admitted that he was basing his own managerial style on Eriksson’s. ‘I learned a lot from Svennis, sometimes without knowing it at the time. The way to treat people, for one thing. Whatever the circumstances, whether they criticise or support him, he always tries to treat everyone the same. Also, he has an aura of calmness around him that he brings to his teams. He is a person you like to listen to because when he says something it is always interesting, always constructive and beneficial. As a player, he makes you feel confident. If you are worried about your form, and you go to him for advice, he’ll always be reassuring. He’ll say: “No problem. Everybody has their ups and downs, trainers as well as players. Just keep on working on what you are good at. I know that when you are in good shape, you’re one of the best.” After you’d been talking to him, you felt: “He thinks I’m one of the best players in Europe and he’s a top trainer, so he can’t be wrong.” In a couple of minutes he’d have restored your self-confidence. He’s very good at building that up, for his players and his teams.’

In common with every other player who has spoken on the subject, Thern had never seen Eriksson lose that famous self-control. ‘I never heard him even raise his voice in the three years I played for him at Benfica. But as soon as he came into the dressing room at half-time, you knew if he was not satisfied. It was a case of: “Oh oh, best to be quiet here and just listen.” He wouldn’t shout. He just stared at you and immediately you knew you had to play much better in the second half, otherwise you’d be off and dropped from the team. He didn’t have to say anything. That look of his said it all.’

Thern explained: ‘Sometimes we’d start a game and wouldn’t be playing well and the opposition would be in command. He’d spot it from the bench and change things very quickly. He’d swap players around or change formation, from four in midfield to five. He was particularly good at knowing what the opposition’s strengths and weaknesses were. I remember when we were playing Porto once he said: “They’re a bit lacking here, on the left”, so we knew exactly where to concentrate our attacks. It sounds obvious and easy, but you’d be surprised how many trainers don’t brief their teams like that. I had a lot of big-name trainers after Svennis. Some of them were good coaches during games, some of them good only at giving instruction during the week. Sven is spot on at both. Overall, he’s the best I’ve played for.’

There had been no favouritism shown towards, and certainly no socialising with, the Swedish triumvirate (Thern, Schwarz and leading scorer Mats Magnusson) at Benfica. Thern had heard that Eriksson had been closer to his players at Gothenburg, but said: ‘I think the relationship has to be different in the professional world. For example, sometimes the Swedish players at Benfica would ask for an extra day when we went home for Christmas. He’d say: “I know you’ll behave if you have another day away from the club, but I can’t be seen to be favouring you because you are Swedish.” He always made a point of treating all his players equally.

‘Yes, he kept his distance, and I think that’s very important for a trainer in the professional game. You have to have a good relationship with your players, but you mustn’t get too close. Everybody has to know who’s boss.’

Peter Taylor was England’s caretaker before Eriksson took charge, and continued as part of the new coaching set-up until his work at Leicester City precluded further involvement. He says: ‘All of a sudden, I got the opportunity to be caretaker manager for a non-qualifying game, and decided that I had enough good, young players who could do well. I’m not sure Italy tried that hard against us, but we did do well. Sven looked at that game and saw decent performances without players like Campbell, Scholes, Owen and Gerrard, and thought: “We’re not bad at all.” We had a new, foreign manager, fresh to the players, who were starting to feel more together. We played Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? in Italy, and everybody seemed to want to join in. For Sven’s first game, against Spain, we had a golf competition at the hotel, and again everybody wanted to do it. The team spirit started to look very good. Players changed from being low on confidence to being on a high, and they’re good enough to take some stopping when they’re like that.’

Of Eriksson’s personality, Taylor added: ‘They [the players] love his calmness. They like the fact that he lets people get on with their work. They like his sense of humour. They know he’s got a fantastic background. With a CV like his, he’d cracked it before he walked through the door. And they enjoy listening to him talk. It’s not complicated stuff, it just makes loads of sense to the players. The last time I was fully involved was Greece away [6 June 2001] and I’ve never seen such a confident group. We could have beaten anybody.’

Ruud Gullit played for Eriksson for two season at Sampdoria, and holds the man, and his methods, in the highest esteem. In an interview for this book, the 1987 World Footballer of the Year told me: ‘Milan wouldn’t play me regularly, they said I had knees of glass, so I went to Sampdoria in 1993 and played nearly every game. We came third in Serie A and won the Italian Cup. Nobody thought we had it in us, but the key was how Eriksson handled everything. I was really charmed by him. He’s a real gentleman. If you didn’t do what he wanted, or just did your own thing, his character meant that it would only affect you. He was so nice, such a good man in the way he treated people that it seemed rude, as well as silly, not to do what he asked. Because of the regard we all had for him, he never had to raise his voice to anyone. He would talk to you, one-on-one, in a very civilised way. He was genuinely interested in you, personally – not just what you were doing on the pitch.’

Juan-Sebastian Veron was first brought to Europe by Eriksson, who signed him for Sampdoria from Boca Juniors of Argentina. Veron, who won Serie A with Eriksson at Lazio, said the Swede was a more straightforward personality than Sir Alex Ferguson. ‘Eriksson is the same person inside the dressing room as outside. Ferguson will challenge the team with strong words, which is not Eriksson’s way. For me, the best coach is the one who is best at building a relationship with his players, so that they feel at ease, feel supported. When, sitting on the bench, there is more than just a coach but a friend too, you perform to the best of your ability. There aren’t many like that, but it is the mark of Eriksson.’

John Barnwell, of the League Managers’ Association, and Gordon Taylor, of the Professional Footballers’ Association, had both objected strongly to England’s appointment of a foreigner. Barnwell described it an ‘an insult’ to his members, and Taylor accused the Football Association of ‘betraying their heritage’. Within a year, they were completely won over. Barnwell now says: ‘His [Eriksson’s] achievements have been quite stunning. He has created an atmosphere of trust with the managers of the top league clubs and he has used commonsense to handle fragile relationships. As a result, not one manager in the country would say anything detrimental about his approach or his attitude. There’s a confidence and an understanding and a great optimism for the future.’

Taylor said: ‘One thing he has brought with him is an aura of stillness, which is particularly useful in moments of crisis. He deals sensibly with problems and instils confidence in the players. His philosophy is that you’re never as bad as they say, and probably never as good either. You just need to know what you’re aiming for. He’s got a good understanding of footballers, and he treats them with respect. There’s an element of Alf Ramsey in him, and that kind of loyalty to players can make the difference when it comes to the crunch. In those respects, he has been a very good influence.’

David Beckham, the England captain, says: ‘Mr Eriksson has a lot of experience, and the players realize that. He trusts all of us to do our job, and every one of the players has got massive respect for him. That’s a vital thing for any manager.’

Glenn Hysen, a championship winner with Liverpool, played for Eriksson at Gothenburg and Fiorentina. He says: ‘When we first saw him, at Gothenburg, he seemed such a small guy that we didn’t think much of him. But when you’ve listened to what he has to say, you have to respect him. And you really do listen to him. He goes around the players, talks to them, jokes with them. He always used to get changed in the players’ dressing room. I don’t know if he still does that [he does]. He’s such a smart person. He knows a little about everything, not just football. I don’t think you could find anyone to say anything against him.

‘As a coach, he’s not a magician. His coaching is nothing unusual: blackboard, paper, charts, diagrams of free-kicks for and against. But he’s good at seeing what’s going wrong during a match.

Eriksson had the ‘karma’ of a latter-day Gandhi. ‘He always keeps a level head, especially in a crisis,’ Hysen added. ‘And he knows that even when he’s happy, and things are going well, it can all be different the next day. That knowledge helps to keep him calm at all times.’

Eriksson was Glenn Stromberg’s mentor with Gothenburg, in the Swedish Under-21 team and at Benfica. Stromberg says: ‘He was always very calm – and for the full 90 minutes. Many managers will panic after 80 minutes if things aren’t going their way. Not Sven. He knows it is as easy for his team to score at the end as it is at the beginning. He is a very hard-headed man, he goes his own way and whatever he thinks is right, he will do it to the very end. He never panics, and players like that. I think England benefited from that when they played Greece in the last of their World Cup qualifiers. When I played for him, there were many games like that, when we got important goals very late, or held out when it seemed impossible. At Gothenburg, and again at Benfica, the players came to think of him as a lucky manager, and themselves as a lucky team.’

At Benfica, Stromberg says, Eriksson was the voice of reason in the dressing room, rather than Mr Big. ‘He didn’t behave like some sort of genius who wanted everybody to know how many things he’d won. Some coaches are like that, but he certainly wasn’t. Each week, he just told the team how he wanted them to play. By personal example, he was good at creating the kind of hushed, thoughtful atmosphere you need in the dressing room before important games. When Sven left Benfica in 1983, I left as well. I knew it wouldn’t be as good there without him. He is the best coach I ever had, in a long career.

‘I’ve seen so many coaches who have thought one thing at the beginning of the season, then panicked and changed when results didn’t immediately go their way. They change players, change tactics, change their style of play, and how often does it pay off? Sven is always calm, and always sticks to his method. His strength of character is his biggest attribute.’

Stefan Schwarz, the Swedish international midfielder, won the Portuguese league and cup, and was a European Cup Finalist during Eriksson’s second spell at Benfica. Schwarz told me: ‘He’s also a very good psychologist, clever at getting into his players’ minds. At Benfica in those days he had Brazilians and Russians, as well as Portuguese and Swedes to deal with, and because his ability overall was so impressive, he commanded the respect of them all. He never raises his voice, and I think that’s because he doesn’t need to. You can see when he’s upset from the look on his face, and if you don’t respond the way he wants you to, you’ll be the one who suffers.’

England’s goalkeeper, David James, is also a fan, his comments clearly including a thinly veiled criticism of Eriksson’s predecessor, Kevin Keegan, whose relentless mateyness could be wearing. He said: ‘Mr Eriksson is one of the quieter managers I have worked with, but he is no less effective for that. You don’t necessarily want the boss plonking himself next to you every time you sit down for a bowl of soup. As a tactician, I would say that he puts the team together like a jigsaw. Different players are treated as individual pieces as he pulls them aside for a quiet chat, telling Michael Owen, for example, to run from deep. That conversation will be in isolation, but when the team comes together, all the pieces drop into place. The training is certainly more serious than under the last regime, with most of the work related to real match scenarios. Mr Eriksson, though, is very careful not to make it obvious from day one who is in his starting eleven, in case the other players switch off.’

The man himself borders on the esoteric when discussing his man-management catechism. ‘The ability to make the right decision, and then dare to do the right things in all situations, is decisive at the top of the modern game,’ he says. ‘If one player isn’t up for it mentally, the whole team can collapse. When we have to give a performance – a competition, a match, some task at work – there are two forces inside us, pulling in different directions. One is ambition, and this is a positive force. Our ambition wants us to improve, to succeed, to attain the goals we have set ourselves. The other force is performance anxiety. This is a negative force. It produces a fear of failing, of making mistakes, of disgracing ourselves and, as a result, of not being accepted by others. These “others” might be our trainer, our teammates, the media, the supporters and, in everyday life, friends, neighbours and workmates.’

Eriksson works on accentuating the positive and eliminating this fear of failure, in the belief that mental strength is ultimately decisive. He reasons: ‘If you look at the top footballers, playing ability among many of them is very even. We can’t train more than we do, we’re already at the maximum that players can take nowadays, so it is mental differences which will decide who the real winners are.’

From day one at Lazio, and again with England, he had set out to break down the mental barriers that prevented players from going beyond the limit of what they believed was possible. ‘We often find it difficult, both intellectually and emotionally, to accept a sufficiently high level for our performance,’ he says. ‘We dare not pass our upper limit and reach our maximum. We have an inner mental barrier that stops us from succeeding, and have to break through the barriers we mentally erect that prevent us from using all our resources. For a long time, it was considered impossible to run a mile under four minutes, but then Roger Bannister did so, and it was not long before a number of other runners managed it. Bannister showed that it was permitted to run that quickly. Any breaking through such barriers has to be done first in the mind. The mind must prepare the way for the body.’