Andres villas boas biography of martin
•
AVB driven out by the media? No, he needed to learn how not to go down 11-0 to Man City and Liverpool... Still, sacking him without allowing a full season to mould this squad was harsh
By MARTIN SAMUEL - DEBATE FOR THE DAILY MAIL
Published: | Updated:
Well, he’s gone. That’s two for two in English football for Andre Villas-Boas. Over-promoted? Under-supported? Harshly treated? Wrongly indulged? I had my say earlier in the week – you can read it here – then you had yours. Now it’s my turn again. Expect heated debate, mild irritation, bizarre theories, Christmas songs and a 15-minute house epic to send you all on your way. You know it makes sense.
I think Andre Villas-Boas is still so confident that he is the next Jose Mourinho – based on his success at Porto – that he refuses to believe that any of the problems facing his team could stem from him. You get the feeling that Sir Alex Ferguson could walk up to him, throw his arms around his shoulders and whisper some friendly advic
•
The straight-talking Andre Villas-Boas: dismantling myths, rally driving and how to hire him
Andre Villas-Boas rubs the back of his neck a little. He’s still sore from a long and bumpy cross-country drive. The suspension in his car could perhaps be softer, the ride a little easier.
Between jobs, you probably think he’s been using his free time going from ground to ground, intensively scribbling down notes on games and scrupulously researching the latest tactical trends. Don’t labour under the misapprehension that the pain is from spending too much time in front of his Mac, in his sunlit study at home in Porto, hunched over clips on Wyscout either.
Contrary to what you think you know about him, that’s not Villas-Boas.
“James,” he smiles. “I don’t sell bullshit. I don’t tell people that I’m watching coaches and watching games in the Iranian league to see who are the best Iranian players. I am, let’s säga, a bit of a hipster but I see the games I need to see here in my office. Whene
•
I like Andre Villas-Boas.
Not because I'm a direct relation or close friend and therefore obliged to stick up for him under some laboured notion of doing the right thing. Not because I have Arsenal-leaning motives and take sadistic pleasure in his masterful implosion of Spurs' season. Not because I belong to the hetero-confused group who find his carefully trimmed ginger beard and neatly combed hair in some way erotic.
I like him for a reason far more pathetic than all of these reasons. It's a reason which I am having a lot of trouble reconciling with the part of me that views football from arm's length; knowing that it is far too ridiculous a beast to ever allow close enough or it will breach my snarky defences and bite me till I'm rabid with sincerity.
I like Andre Villas-Boas because he's just some guy, like me.
He isn't your usual model of seasoned ex-pro, having already enjoyed a playing career unobtainable to us footballing incompetent hoi-polloi, then becoming