My advisor in college gave me a dose of academic know-how when I took a class of his my freshman year: when reading a history book, always read the foreword. Any historian worth his salt will have questions he or she is trying to answer and they’ll be succinctly contained in that part. When I picked up Richard Fitzpatrick’s El Clasico: Barcelona v Real Madrid: Football’s Greatest Rivalry, besides being stumped by the double colon, I was happy to find that his Introduction was full of questions ranging from “Was [Real Madrid] really General Franco’s team?” to “What effect does the rivalry have on the cultural life of Spain?”

These are heady times in the Barcelona-Real Madrid saga. Since 1902 the teams have coexisted on the same planet; since 2005 they’ve arguably considered themselves the only 2 clubs in existence, a planet unto themselves. The globe’s technological upswing over this same period is unlikely to be a mere coincidence in the rise of both clubs as the preeminent teams, though it is certainly not the only factor in their worldwide growth. The book tries to take on these behemoths, to push them, their history, their culture, and their values into 224 pages; the wonderful part is that it largely succeeds.

I will admit this here: I went into this skeptical. I don’t know Mr. Fitzpatrick’s work particularly well (though since reading the book I’ve realized I’ve read several of his pieces in The New York Times), so I wasn’t skeptical of his abilities; instead, I was skeptical of the ability to put enough information in front of me as to make such a undertaking worthwhile. I’ve said it before about a couple of books and no doubt I’ll say it again, but there are books for experts and there are books for novices. This, while tending towards the latter, had enough access to the hallowed halls of both clubs to make it worthwhile for the former as well.

By far the most interesting parts of the book were the interviews with a whole host of characters, from former players like Pichi Alonso, Xabi Alonso’s father, a man understandably torn between to the club he played for and the club his son plays for (he goes with the latter, which is also understandable) to dozens of down-in-the-trenches fans and even Joan Laporta. There are countless journalists quoted–the biased (Tomas Roncero and Martí Perarnau) as well as the laudable (Sid Lowe and Santi Segurola)–which is to be expected from a man who writes for El Pais and their perspectives are intertwined with lengthy quotes and discussions of various actors.

The history itself that is imparted is at times something I caught myself saying I already knew, but it is well-presented. It certainly comes of as level-headed and well-reasoned, though because of its length, it can at times shy away from getting into the details. This doesn’t mean it’s cosmetic, but it may leave a sense of want to those who are used to David Golblatt length histories of the game. There are competing theories, it would appear, about Di Stéfano’s transfer from Barcelona to Madrid, but they are not fully laid out. The mists of time may very well have swallowed the damning evidence one way or the other, but that particular episode jumped out as being a little bit fluffed over. It is, however, impressed upon the reader that it’s not the hand of Franco specifically descending on the history of the Spanish game.

Instead, the book is at pains to point out that Francisco Franco was a dictator. That doesn’t mean he cared specifically about who won or lost the league title, but he was, indeed, in charge of everything. It’s not that he pushed for referees to make decisions in favor of one team or another, but he did declare Real Madrid the sporting ambassador of the nation; referees may have felt subconsciously in favor of the team in white. Yet Barcelona won a spate of Copas during Franco’s reign, especially during the 1950s when they achieved a number of dobletes. This fact cannot be ignored when feting the Catalan club’s roots: Franco was, after all, a dictator. His word was law, but he wasn’t a big fan of the beautiful game: chillingly, Fitzpatrick quotes El Pais journalist Guillem Martinez as saying Franco preferred to sign death sentences.

The book paints surprising pictures of former players, coaches, and presidents, preferring to paint everyone in a more well-rounded light than media perception typically allows. Even Figo comes off as far more sympathetic, though unashamed of his move. Bernabeu may have served the Falangist movement, but he was also politically expedient and well-connected. These nuances bring a real humanity to the actors in the great drama of el clasico, but as with all things, some of those nuances, like Jose Mourinho’s insistence that even he sometimes hates his concocted media personality, just make you dislike the person even more.

The failures of this book are, as mentioned before, in its brevity. It is, in its way, dense, as it imparts the full history of the clubs in such a short space, but it also bounces from topic to topic enough to occasionally be distracting. It’s an understandable problem to have, given the sheer volume of history, but there were moments when I had to return to other sections to regain my footing as to what was happening. It is also perhaps no coincidence that the book focuses mainly on the modern series of games since Mourinho took over. The Four Clasicos of the  Apocalypse that we endured a couple of years ago is described in great detail–enough to bring heart-pounding flashbacks while I sat on the subway–but given the overall length of the book, it’s surprising that so much time is spent on these few matches. Certainly they are the culmination, up to now, of all that has come before them, but there are moments when it’s hard to understand why they are more important than a match in 1984 or 1924.

Given all that, I would recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn a bit more about the rivalry. It’s not a riveting read, per se, as the cover quotes suggest, but it’s a well-rounded, even-keeled discussion of what has become a sporting behemoth. I look forward to the next edition, with interviews from the current crop of players, coaches, and sporting directors, once everyone has retired and is happy to relate old war stories. And assuming, of course, that Richard Fitzpatrick hasn’t gotten sick of focusing solely on the Big Two.

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Book Review: “Pep Guardiola: Another Way of Winning” by Guillem Balague

Let’s get this out of the way right now: If you are looking for an in-depth tactical analysis of the “Guardiola system”, this isn’t the book. If you are looking for a detailed account of Pep’s four seasons in charge of FC Barcelona, this isn’t that book either. Instead, this book is (or claims to be) an introduction to the man himself, with insight into how he thinks, what motivates him, and why he does what he does. In that sense, Pep Guardiola is a success. The reader is left feeling that they have a deeper understanding of how Pep relates to people and how that was the catalyst behind certain events. More on that later.

The book is divided into three parts, each with a different theme. The first part deals with Guardiola’s decision to leave at the end of the
2011-2012 season (“Why Did He Have to Leave?”). Then there is a brief account of Pep’s youth, playing career, and his personal quest to learn as much as possible about football from coaches and players whose vision of the game he admired. This section covers Pep’s time coaching the B team and how he came to be chosen as first-team manager. The third part chronicles Pep’s four seasons at the helm, with emphasis on the most important games, such as the CL finals and the numerous Clasicos. Balague discusses at length Pep’s relationship with his players, staff, and the media, and a whole chapter is devoted to the “rivalry” with Jose Mourinho. The final chapter returns to the theme of Pep’s departure, the final games, the tributes–and the response from within and without the club.

I am on record as not being a fan of Guillem Balague, but having purchased the book I resolved to go into it with an open mind.
Whatever I think of his personality, he is a decent writer and certainly has access to sources and information I do not (as he often reminds the reader). The book unfortunately suffers from poor editing. There are numerous avoidable typos (at one point he says that Inter took Eto’o in exchange for Ibrahimovic AND paid 46 million Euros in instalments!) as well as repetition of phrases and paragraphs that make it seem like the book was written in separate chunks that were later patched together. At one point he refers to Pep as “Spiderman” out of the blue, and it isn’t until nearly the end of the book that he explains the analogy. From someone who makes his living using words, I found it sloppy and annoying. From a purely factual point of view, there is not a lot of new information in this book. Most of the content could be gleaned from previously-published sources–interviews, match reports, ect.—and there are some passages where the reader feels doubtful that the way the author relates an anecdote is really quite how it occurred. The strength of the book lies in the direct quotes from interviews Balague conducted with Pep’s friends, colleagues and players (including one who preferred to remain anonymous–for some reason I suspect it was Dani Alves).

If most of my previous comments sound negative, there are plenty of positives to this book as well. The author has a light, engaging style that allows the reader to appreciate the highs and lows of Pep’s time with Barcelona. One of the most enjoyable sections deals with Pep’s season coaching the B team. Like many, I wasn’t really following the B team at the time, so I was fascinated to read about the enormous changes Pep implemented when he took charge—merging the B and C teams and keeping only the cream of both teams. In the end he let 27 youth players go. Imagine how difficult that would have been for someone like Pep to do! And that is really the crux of this book—the way Pep Guardiola forms close emotional relationships with his players, and how this tendency affects his actions, his decision-making, and ultimately was one of the reasons Pep made the decision to leave when he did.

“On the day he announced to his players he was leaving Barcelona, he was clear: `If I had continued we would end up hurting each other.’”

According to the author, Pep has a fundamental need to feel loved by those around him. His passion for the game and personal charisma make it easy for players to “fall” for him. Pep is very affectionate with his players, and that affection is returned—most of the time. Now and then Pep comes up against a player who cannot or will not form an emotional connection with him. When the player is performing well and doing what is expected of him, that is OK. But if the player is also not adapting to what Pep requires of him tactically or is causing problems within the team—and shows no desire to improve the situation—Pep slams the emotional shutters down. Thus players like Eto’o and Ibrahimovic were eventually frozen out. Pep’s difficulty distancing himself from his players also meant that daily decisions like choosing a lineup for a game could be painful for him. As a former player he understood how it felt to be left out of a team, to have to settle for a few minutes here and there. In the book Pep describes how he suffered when a player was angry or ignored him. Thus the benching and eventual sale of Bojan (who Balague describes as a “victim of Messi”) was incredibly painful for them both.

Ultimately I came away from this book with mixed feelings. It was an enjoyable read, but aside from the two sections I have highlighted above it felt like there wasn’t much substance to it. Anyone looking for a comprehensive account of the “Pep years” will be disappointed, but then the book never really claimed to be that. As an exploration of Pep’s character and motivations the book is a success, even if it does venture on occasion into melodrama. I would recommend it as a casual read, but take it with a grain of salt.

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