Football Dynasty-Chapter 568: Mourinho’s Sincerity

The immaturity of the team is often reflected in two aspects. The first is the lack of maturity in the tactical system, meaning the team’s offense and defense are chaotic. The second is the team’s mentality, which lacks stability and composure in crucial games.

This season, Manchester City exhibited both issues, especially in the first half of the season, when most of their results were draws.

It was the immaturity of their mentality that led to the collapse of their tactical system. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

What can you expect?

Supposedly, with players like Cannavaro, Thuram, Ronaldo, Zidane, and Henry, success should be guaranteed. But at the end of the day, having superstars doesn’t mean you can automatically achieve something.

When Mourinho took charge, he started from the beginning. The team trained in cooperative passing and movement, focusing on quick, efficient one-touch football. Nevertheless, while striving for a fast tempo, they still had to consider the players’ ability to cope with that speed.

For instance, if a pass is too long, players can’t reach it. If a pass is too early, players aren’t in position.

This directly correlates with the maturity of a team.

If it were Martin O’Neill, his motivational words could wake them up. But Mourinho? The Special One was still in the early stages of his career.

Wanting to defeat their opponents in one decisive strike, City’s players aimed for a crushing victory over Liverpool. They increased the speed of their passing, but the urge to play quickly often distracted them from thinking through their options, resulting in substandard passes.

The result?

It was a very beautiful display of football, perhaps even the best they had ever produced. In that moment, amid effective tactics flourishing through creativity, these talented athletes were in their element, reveling in the joy of the game—a thrill that carried with them into the locker room.

That was until the news broke.

Surely, Manchester United had clinched the title.

The room fell quiet instantly. Everyone looked at each other, unsure of how to react.

Some felt angry. Some were saddened. Some believed they had already done their best. Others were quietly satisfied with their effort, considering the team had climbed from eleventh place to third this season.

The players, who had recently returned from an intense 90 minutes on the field, had initially been laughing and chatting, preparing to wash off their fatigue and change out of their kits.

But now, after the news broke, the players in the locker room didn’t bother to shower or change. Even Zambrotta, who had just scored on his debut, didn’t celebrate. He simply sat in front of his locker, head lowered.

Around him, his teammates did the same, their expressions downcast. The atmosphere was so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Everyone knew they had let the league slip away. In doing so, they had also said goodbye to their hopes of winning the tittle.Trailing United by four points with only one round left, even if they managed to defeat Leeds in their next match, nothing would change.

Someone needed to take the blame... or bring everyone together. Especially if City still wanted to grab a ticket in the FA Cup final from the upcoming semi-final.

The players felt utterly dejected. Just as the mood inside the room began to sink even further, Mourinho entered the locker room.

When he walked in, there was no reaction from anyone. No greetings. No eye contact. Only silence. He realized immediately that something had to change—not just their tactics, but their mentality.

Everyone present—players, staff, and medical personnel—quietly watched the scene unfold.

Mourinho’s expression mirrored theirs, heavy with pain. He walked slowly around the locker room before stopping at the center. His voice was low and grave as he spoke.

"I’m sorry. I’ve let you down. My ambition for the league title clouded my judgment. I should have allowed you more rest to maintain your form and helped you approach matches with greater clarity. Part of this is my responsibility. Our long winning run made us believe we were unstoppable, but football never allows arrogance. The schedule was brutal, the competition relentless, and perhaps we pushed too hard for too long."

He paused, letting his words settle.

"You deserved to fight for the league title until the very end. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring that trophy to you."

One important lesson he learned at Benfica, Porto, and Barcelona—working under great coaches and within great teams—was that a manager’s job is not only to train players but also to manage people.

In those football culture, a coach is expected to do more than just prepare tactics; he must lead men. You are the one responsible. Whatever the reason may be, you are the commander in the locker room, and you must make the final decisions. So when everything goes wrong, you must be the first to step forward and take the blame—no matter how difficult it is, even if it means standing against the media.

City tried their best. Starting in December, they surged like a rocket, climbing from eleventh place to fourth in just six weeks.

Luck was also on their side, as many top-six teams dropped points through draws and defeats

Mourinho’s words carried visible remorse, but they were measured—not surrendering his authority, only acknowledging responsibility. As he finished speaking, the players slowly lifted their heads, shock evident on their faces. It wasn’t until they had fallen out of the title race that they truly awakened.

They stared at Mourinho, their eyes filled with complicated emotions—guilt, regret, sadness... and determination beginning to surface.

Everyone stared at him in stunned silence. Was it truly his failure that had cost them the trophy?

No.

Mourinho had only taken charge midway through the season. Not only that, but in the previous season, Manchester City had finished as the team with the fewest goals conceded. Many people had taken that achievement for granted. Some had even openly underestimated it.

At that moment, countless memories flooded their minds. They remembered Mourinho when he was still the assistant manager—occasionally looking worried on the training ground, his voice constantly reminding them of the importance of discipline, teamwork, and pushing each other to improve.

The problem?

Last season, they were unstoppable—the team with the most goals scored and the fewest conceded. Victory came so often that winning 34 matches almost felt natural to them. Confidence surged, and success became their identity.

But that was last season.

When the new campaign began, something subtle started to change. The hunger that once fueled them slowly faded. Training sessions lost their sharp intensity, and some players, consciously or not, began to underestimate their opponents. Matches that once demanded full focus were approached with a dangerous sense of comfort.

And in football, complacency is often the first step toward collapse.

So who had really let whom down?

The usually perceptive assistant coach had chosen to shoulder all the responsibility himself.

Current Mourinho resembled a father who indulges his misbehaving child; instead of scolding him harshly when the child wants freedom, the father shows patience and allows the child to run wild, only to bandage the child’s wounds when they inevitably fall and get hurt.

While O’Neill’s influence was visible in the locker room, to be honest, every training session was tailored by Mourinho working together with the rest of the staff. However, he was the one overseeing and controlling everything. Of course, he could have chosen to scream at them in frustration, but that would only have sparked rebellion, creating an irreparable rift between them.

It was unclear whether it was tears or just sweat, but a faint shimmer of liquid formed in Makelele’s eyes and slowly traced down his cheeks as he stood up and approached Mourinho.

Softly, he said, "Boss, I’m sorry."

It was their failings that had cost them the tittle, not their coach.

Was he arrogant?

Mourinho smiled faintly and replied, "Claude, you don’t need to apologize..."

"Boss, I’m sorry," Makelele repeated.

"Sorry," another voice echoed quietly from behind him.

Mourinho smiled as he patted each player on the shoulder, saying, "Don’t blame yourselves. It’s not your fault. This is my first time experiencing a situation like this; I still lack some experience, but I will learn from this lesson, and it will only make us stronger in the future, right?"

The more Mourinho spoke, the sadder the players felt. What if things had been different?

The players rose on their own and surrounded Mourinho, their heads bowed in acknowledgment of their mistakes. Even if some of them were not highly educated, they still understood the fundamental emotions that bind people together.

If he had shouted at them, demanding they win back the championship despite their fading hopes, resentment would surely have grown among them. Instead, he chose to lift them up and stand as their shield.

"Boss, thank you. We will do our best at White Hart Lane."

As for the FA Cup format, City would face Newcastle in the semi-final, while Arsenal would meet Tottenham. The neutral venues for the matches depended on the draw. Either Maine Road or St James’ Park could have hosted Arsenal vs. Tottenham. For the City vs. Newcastle semi-final, the venue was decided between Highbury and White Hart Lane. In the end, White Hart Lane was chosen.

Before long, they approached him one after another, offering silent embraces that spoke louder than words.

"Good job."

"Get some rest."

Mourinho hugged them back, one by one, patting shoulders, whispering encouragement, and maintaining the image of a supportive leader.

Everything was witnessed by Baltemar Brito and the rest of the coaching staff, who stood quietly near the entrance, watching the emotional scene unfold.

When Mourinho reached Pirlo and pulled him into a hug, his angle turned toward Brito and the others.

At first, they thought Mourinho was being completely sincere—fully immersed in the emotional moment, carrying the weight of responsibility like a tragic hero.

But then... they saw it.

As Mourinho lifted his head and glanced toward the staff, he gave them a quick, subtle wink.

He winked.

"..."

Baltemar Brito nearly choked, while the other staff members quickly looked away, pretending to study the floor, the lockers, or literally anything else.