Pep Guardiola: Another Way of Winning: The Biography (26 page)

‘Iniesta taught me at Stamford Bridge to never write anything off. Improbable is not impossible ... you have to believe,’ Pep recalls. ‘If his kick was unstoppable it’s
’cause it was loaded with the will of the whole of the Barcelona fans.’

When the game ended, he proceeded to hug everybody, all of the players, the staff. At that moment he was both player and coach. Valdés came to him and got hold of him, shook him and
shouted something in his face that he cannot remember. The heart was coming out of Pep. The whole team exploded like never before, not even at the Bernabéu. Everyone was going haywire. The
biggest hug was with Iniesta to whom Pep must have mentioned what he later said in the press conference: ‘Bloody hell, the one who never scores was the one with the goal.’

Not long before that crucial goal, Iniesta asked Pep for a few minutes. ‘Give me your opinion, boss. I don’t score enough, what should I do?’ Pep started to laugh: ‘You
asking me? Me? I didn’t score more than four goals in the whole of my career! What do I know!’

There is such a fine line between success and failure, as Pep likes to repeat to his footballers. Barcelona were going to play in the Champions League final against Manchester United in Rome.
They had reached another pinnacle in a year that had turned out to be a glorious one.

A couple of days later, Guardiola took his children to school, as he does almost every morning. The pupils, many of whom were wearing Barcelona shirts, looked out of the
classroom windows, while others went out into the school yard to applaud Pep’s arrival. ‘Why are they clapping, Papa?’ asked his son Màrius. ‘Because they’re
happy, son,’ he replied. The Espanyol fans among the children who sometimes challenged and taunted him about the result of the next Catalan derby were suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Barcelona were leaving a lot of their complexes behind; they weren’t ashamed to assert themselves and bask in their happiness. As many people noted, the supporters rarely flocked to
Canaletes, the fountain where Barcelona victories were enjoyed, without having a title to celebrate. But they were rejoicing over the six goals against Madrid, Iniesta’s super strike against
Chelsea and their acceptance of a style of play.

It was all about being proud of what Guardiola and his boys were producing.

In 2009 Barcelona won a sextet of titles, a record that had been achieved by no other team in history. They won everything they competed for in a calendar year: the Liga, the
Copa del Rey against Athletic de Bilbao, the Champions League, the Spanish Super Cup, the European Super Cup and the World Club Championship. Those victories made Barcelona, statistically at least,
the greatest team of all time, ahead of the Celtic of 1967, the Ajax of 1972, PSV Eindhoven of 1988 and Manchester United of 1999. Those four teams that had previously won the treble: the league,
the cup and the European Cup. Pedro (‘he was playing in the third division the other week!’ as Pep reminded him every week – partly said with admiration, partly with caution)
scored in every one of those competitions, another unprecedented feat. In the 2008–9 season Guardiola’s team played eighty-nine games and only lost eight, four of which were all but
insignificant and none was lost by more than one goal.

The year had shown on occasions that everything is relative: ‘By doing the same, things may not have turned out this way,’ Guardiola
reminded people. But one
thing was clear: using Cruyff’s idea as a starting point, Guardiola had given the team methods by which to practise a type of football that was as elaborate as it was effective.
Barça’s triumph broke with some football taboos that put the result before the play, as if they were incompatible.

Barça’s style has brought admiration from sports critics, similar to that generated in their day by mythical teams such as River Plate (1941–5) who ruled with an exceptional
quintet made up of Muñoz, Moreno, Pedernera, Labruna and Loustau. As well as Budapest Honved (1949–55) with Puskas, Bozsik, Kocsis or Czibor, the foundations of that Hungary team that
won at Wembley in 1953. And, of course, Di Stéfano’s Madrid (1956–60), winners of five consecutive European Cups, with a forward line of Kopa, Rial, Di Stéfano, Puskas and
Gento. Equally as celebrated was Pelé’s Santos (1955–64) and the Brazil team from the 1970 World Cup – that team that lined up with five ‘tens’ in attack:
Jairzinho, Gerson, Tostao, Pelé and Rivelino. Or Sacchi’s Milan (1988–90), twice World Club Champions with players in the category of Van Basten, Rijkaard and Gullit.

In the summer of 2009 and after winning the Champions League, Pep decided to make changes to his squad. Samuel Eto’o had become one of the most consistent performers of the team even when
he had to, as against Madrid and Manchester United, play on the right of the attack. He scored the opening goal of the Roma final but Guardiola understood that to continue allowing Messi to grow,
he had to get rid of the Cameroon international.

That same summer, Madrid had paid €95 million for Cristiano Ronaldo, €67 million for Kaká and Barcelona were negotiating with players such as Filipe Luis and David Villa, talks
which fizzled out in the end. Finally, they struck a deal with Inter to exchange Eto’o for Ibrahimovi
ć
. Pep spoke about ‘feeling’ in relation to
Samuel, an English word which when used in Spanish means ‘vibe’. ‘It’s a question of feeling, I can’t change the character. A thousand things are telling me, things
that aren’t football- or character-related, that this year we have to change a few things in the dressing room, not just a player like Samuel but a few other things too.’ Pep accepted
publicly that he could be mistaken. But, again, he prefers to make his own mistakes.

Having won the League, the Cup and the Champions League in Rome, Barça attained the Spanish Super Cup over two legs against Athletic de Bilbao, with
Ibrahimovi
ć
and Eto’o now departed. There were two more titles left before achieving the sextet. Barcelona struggled against Shakhtar Donetsk in the Stade
Louis II in Monaco. With the score level at 0-0 after ninety minutes, the title was played for in extra time. Pep knelt down in front of his starting team and began to explain to them what had to
happen, what was going to happen.

‘Be sure of the pass, without taking risks at the back! Do it well! As always, play at keeping the ball and above all, move forward. In our own way. They are expecting the counter-attack
and they won’t change. Do it more than ever, our way, with the ball. If we have the ball we can do what we know. In thirty minutes we can score! Don’t worry, eh! Do what you know!
Patiently. Let’s not go crazy because if we do, they’ll kill us. We’ll pass and pass. Don’t worry! Don’t worry! Patience! We will work the same as always. More than
ever we must move, move, move and constantly create superiority. We’ll open up the pitch and we’ll look for the wings and then there will be space down the centre. OK, gentlemen? As
always! Let’s go, eh?!’ He finished off clapping. The path to victory was illuminated once again.

In the 115th minute, Pedro controlled the ball on the left, found Messi who managed to open up a channel between the full backs with two touches so that Pedro got the ball again and finished.
Barça were proclaimed European Superchampions.

Out of all the titles won in 2009, the World Club Championship, to be played against Estudiantes de la Plata in December of that year after reaching the final, was the only honour the team had
never won.

Pep’s anguished words before winning his sixth title in his first year as Barça’s coach can explain what happened two and a half years later. ‘This is unbearable,’
he privately acknowledged while he reflected on the fact that people have very short memories in the world of football. It worried him that more and more was being asked of a group of players that
would go down in history as the greatest of all time.

The rhythm of success had been so harmonious and so phenomenal from Barcelona’s point of view that it needed a happy ending. ‘Tomorrow something will end that
started last year,’ Guardiola announced. ‘The future is bleak, because surpassing what has been achieved is impossible. We’d be wrong to make comparisons. What we must do is work
so that people continue to be proud of us. It isn’t the game of our lives, because family are waiting for us at home, nor will it make up for anything.’

Pep took some of the weight off the pressure the team felt as a result of Barcelona losing the World Club final in 1992 and in 2006 with Rijkaard, undervaluing the competition on both occasions.
But just before the game started, in the last talk to the team, he announced, in a carefully composed and convincing statement, that it was close to being the game of their lives: ‘If we lose
today, we will still be the best team in the world. If we win, we will be eternal.’

The game belonged to Estudiantes – the Argentinians denied Barça and scored from their best chance. But Pedro forced extra time from the penultimate kick of the game. Then, after a
brief respite, it was just a question of waiting for the appearance of Messi, who scored after controlling the ball with his chest from a cross from Alvés.

Lady Luck was looking out for Pep’s team that season, and they persevered, never stopped running, and never looked for excuses. And eventually, it happened for them with Iniesta’s
goal at Stamford Bridge and Pedro’s in this final.

It had been eighteen months since Guardiola was named first-team coach. On that December night in Abu Dhabi, Barcelona had won their sixth title under their new coach: that is, every competition
they had competed for.

While he waited to collect the trophy, in full view of the world’s TV cameras, standing on the pitch, Pep Guardiola broke down in tears.

Manel Estiarte looked on as his friend’s body trembled before he burst into tears. Dani Alvés was the first to approach the coach to give him a hug. Pep regained
his composure for a few seconds. He took
a few steps back and found himself alone once again. He hid his face with his hands and let everything out. He couldn’t stop
crying. He trembled; his shoulders yo-yoed up and down like a child’s. Henry embraced him, smiling in disbelief. His friend Guillermo Amor, commentating for Spanish television, was moved when
he saw him: ‘He really lives football, he’s trained for it,’ he repeated, his voice breaking. Ibrahimovi
ć
took over from Henry and joked with his
coach. And at that moment Pep emerged from his trance as the officials slowly took over: the awards ceremony was about to begin.

Pep’s sister Francesca cried herself as she watch him break down. ‘It’s really moving, it really gets you,’ she said when she watched the footage again weeks later.
Ramón Besa, journalist and friend, understands that Pep is ‘so transparent that he does everything on the pitch: there’s no cheats or tricks. He is extremely sensitive.’
His friend David Trueba points out that ‘victory is usually something that causes a lot of wires to cross’.

Pep usually bottles everything up inside, holding back his ups and downs, the secrets, the debts, the promises. Sometimes Estiarte encourages him to let it all out: ‘If you want to cry,
cry; punch the wall, vent your feelings.’ On that day Manel would have liked Pep to have had more time to cry; he deserved to cry more after so much self-control.

And this, the last trophy of that year, was the one that finally triggered a public outpouring of emotion. The tension in the Liga, the Clásico, Iniesta’s goal in London, the
Champions League final. The relief, the euphoria of winning everything mixed with the fulfilment of starting a new job and knowing that in a very short time he had surpassed a level of success
previously unimaginable. And now this title, so undervalued in Europe, yet considered the climax of the season in South America. A series of images and emotions built up in Pep’s head and
exploded. There was suddenly an escape valve for all the pressure. Spiderman got carried away by his emotions. ‘That’s Pep,’ many said when they saw him. Or, rather, ‘That,
too, is Pep.’

Nobody asked him then about the reasons for his tears although he dedicated the success to Evarist Murtra, former director of Barcelona, who had been in favour of Pep training the Barça
reserve
team instead of working as a coordinator in the youth categories. ‘They’re things that happen,’ he says now. ‘With time, these things, if I
carry on working in this field, won’t happen again to me.’ The strong Pep takes over again.

‘For those who are here now and those who were here last year – thank you for the wonderful past sixteen months. We have played well many times. We have earned respect and the credit
goes to them. They have been very generous in their effort,’ he announced in the post-match press conference.

Pep Guardiola touched the sky in his first experience as a top-flight coach. They had been unforgettable months. The long days at the training complex, spending less time with partner Cris,
locked in his office, making decisions, using common sense, surrounding himself with good people, being demanding of all around him on a daily basis – it had all been worthwhile. The tears
humanised both the character and football.

Guardiola’s Barcelona was now a ‘guarantee of origin’, bearing a hallmark, a trademark that stood for something the football world had never seen before – a team that
knew no limits and that, through showing faith in their style and personality, had been capable of achieving greatness. The players left the dressing room to celebrate wearing t-shirts bearing the
motto ‘
Todo ganado, todo por ganar
’ (Everything won, everything to aim for).

Guardiola had replaced Joan Laporta and even Johan Cruyff as leader of the Barcelona religion. The motto ‘More than a club’ didn’t just make sense from the entity’s point
of view, but also the team’s. Barcelona were now ‘immortals’.

Intent on finding new challenges, on taking the team even higher, Pep renewed his contract two months later, for another year until 2011. Yet ... ‘One more year and I’m off,’
he thought.

At the beginning of the following season, the village of Santpedor decided to pay tribute to its most famous son. He was honoured by the village and proclaimed ‘Hijo
Predilecto’, the equivalent to being given the ‘key to the city’. In exchange, Pep had to get up on stage, in
that square in which he’d played as a kid,
to say a few words. He had gone back to his square, to his village, to everything that he had left behind, to the sacrifices of Dolors and Valentí Guardiola.