Ernesto Valverde – Football… squared

Think back to that slightly awkward phase in football history in which a Spaniard with a nickname that references a Mediterranean insect (“Txingurri”, which means “ant” in Basque) arrives in Piraeus to take over a club that’s jam packed with contradictions. Modern but at the same time knee-deep in some archaic version of “football needs grit, heart and skill, nought else!” – equally committed to the art of football and the crude, almost irrepressible excesses of its fans.

To really understand it, just think what it means to be the Olympiacos trainer. Imagine, you coach a team with a dominant position in the Greek super league (which is a lot like managing a company with a monopoly more than actual competitors), but you have to do it against the backdrop of an oscillating paradox: the fans want to win everything, but they also want a sense of football ideology: a “how” that underlines and demonstrates the “what”. And which point Ernesto Valverde shows up.

A man who views football like a mathematician does the geometry of the universe–in a bustling port city that wants not theories and equations, but the sublime: the moment that catches fire.

Valverde, with his calm and reflective personality, was a trainer who had no need to impose himself with shouting or excessive intensity.

An introduction to the Greek experience

In 2008, Olympiacos needed someone to give the team coherence, a plan–something that wouldn’t turn to dust during the summer transfer season. Valverde is brought in as a man who believes in a certain kind of football: organized, with carefully-defined roles, aggressive in mood but rational not reckless. He brings order to a team that had learned to get by on individual bursts of devil-may-care inspiration.

The most interesting thing, though, was less the fact they won the championship (which, if you’re the Olympiacos coach, is more an obligation than an achievement), than the feeling the team had begun to look like a well-tuned machine. The plan for moving the ball around was crystal clear, spaces were filled by recourse to a method that had more in common with a geometrical algorithm than spontaneous creation, and the result was a team that knew exactly what they wanted to do on the pitch.

Adaptive football

Of particular interest was the team’s ability to adapt. Although Valverde adores attacking football, he could still adapt his team to the demands of each particular game. This was clear in Olympiacos’ Champions League games, where they presented a balanced and competitive image against superior opponents.

And yet, after a year, he up and leaves. It is not entirely clear whether the Olympiacos management and their inability to reach a mutually satisfactory financial agreement were to blame, or simply the fact that the Greek football reality is a system that can swallow up even the most disciplined of people. His departure leaves Olympiacos craving closure, like he’d left before his work was done, as if he’d written a book that came to an abrupt halt mid-paragraph.

The return

When Evangelos Marinakis decides, in 2010, to bring him back, the feeling is that he’s coming to finish what he started. His second term is more fully realized, more stable, producing something closer to what could be called “Valverde’s team”. The lines between defense and offense become shorter, the players have internalized their responses till they’re second nature, and Olympiacos plays with a relaxed style rarely seen in Greek teams.

The moment that best captures the change in the club is their performance against Arsenal in the Champions League. Olympiacos doesn’t run onto the Anfield pitch like a “second-division team hoping to steal a result”. They play their game and have faith in their strengths; they’re a team that considers itself the equal of any in the competition. And when they win, it’s not just a victory; it’s a declaration: “We’re here, and we’re not going anywhere!”

The nostalgia paradox

In 2012, he leaves again. This time, there’s no sense of a job left unfinished; rather that a chapter has reached its natural end. Valverde, a man who has never seemed to particularly enjoy the limelight, knew when to leave.

The nostalgia that followed wasn’t only about trophies or victories. It was also about a team that had acquired a distinct football identity, which it would hang on to with a consistency rarely seen in Greek clubs.

Personality

With his calm and thoughtful personality, Valverde was a coach who didn’t need to impose himself verbally or with an intensity of presence. His leadership was based on consistency, method, and remaining open to new ways to enhance both. He wasn’t the sort of coach who would set out to rile the fans with provocative statements or enter into meaningless confrontations. He preferred to let his football do the talking, allowing his team to reveal his philosophy on the pitch, without the need for words. This poise and professionalism made him very popular with the players, who saw him as a man they could trust and follow.

What he left behind

Valverde wasn’t just a successful Olympiacos coach. He was a man who left an indelible mark on the club. He introduced a more European football philosophy, got Olympiacos playing with confidence and consistency, and managed to create a model that has become a point of reference for all the coaches that came after him. Even after his departure, his impact remained evident, as fans and management treat him as an ideal of sorts to this day.

But the nostalgia for his era doesn’t stem from its successes alone; it’s also fed by the feeling that the Olympiacos of those years had a clear competitive identity as well as a game with powerful mental underpinnings. Valverde taught that football can be a combination of strategy, discipline and creativity.

So, what does Valverde’s time at Olympiacos mean? It confirmed that a team can play attractive, intelligent football without forgoing realism. It served as a reminder that having a plan and discipline can be just as appealing as relying on talent and inspiration.

And, ultimately, it showed how rare it is for the relationship between coach and team to transcend trophies and titles. And it’s the feeling that everything worked exactly as it should for a time, however fleeting; that football was just as it was meant to be.