by Matt Riley
23/11/14
My wife and I recently took a soon-to-be-signed (and, this being Thailand, now recently sacked) foreign coach and his assistant out for lunch, welcoming them to the frantic conveyor belt sending them closer to the boiling cauldron of the Thai Premier League. Under strict instructions from the more astute half of our union, I bit my lip as they set out their dynamic manifesto. They would blitz the club and players with intensive and highly focussed training, a new regime of organisation and a far stricter system of accountability and transparency. By the end of the meal, my nails were imbedded into my wooden chair frame; the still smoking hole in the side of my head from my wife's laser Stare of Silence smouldered unnoticed.
When I thought it couldn't get worse, they manoeuvred the noose nearer their necks after being introduced in the changing rooms after the previous coach's last game. Some players are family men, some are playboys and many fall somewhere in between, but to tell all of them you know they go to Sukhumvit bars for beer and girls was ill-advised. To then name one road (number 11) as being the place you know they frequent and for your assistant to happily Facebook post from there the following weekend shows the kind of judgement EPL television pundits make choosing meat and potato hugging trousers with legs splayed for maximum HD effect.
Then, the ISIS School of Public Relations gathered all the back room staff together to say, in English, that everything was about to change. Most of the staff didn't understand the comments, and those that did were unsure of the message and too nervous to ask for clarification. The particular rancid cherry on the cow pat cake was positioned by another Facebook post showing both men marching aggressively towards the referee to show the importance of, "intensity." Very classy, backed up by a religion-soaked Twitter campaign that questioned the loyalty of players and resembled a man sawing off a gangplank whilst kneeling on the seaward side.
Thai life and Thai football are rare breeds indeed. Whilst face-saving and conflict avoidance is not unique in Asia, Thai footballers rarely choose to explore the footballing world to test themselves in the global community. Teerasil Dangda is a sacrificial lamb destined to return to Thailand with what's left of his tail firmly placed between his legs once the PR storm has abated (Almeria's August Thailand cash drop suggested they wanted that done in short order). The fate of "The Manchester City Three" in 2007, Teeratip Winnothai at the Crystal Palace and Everton academies and current national coach Kiatisuk "Zico" Senamuang at mighty Huddersfield Town adds up to a single bagel of first team appearances.
So you have a system which is skewed (rightly, but too strongly) towards native players and only two transfer windows a year when they will be moved on to another Thai club where they continue to influence the players left behind. It's an environment where coaches are completely vulnerable win, lose or draw. This gives players huge power over their "boss" and means coaches need to tread on eggshells, not plant land mines in front of them. More importantly, they need to pick their battles.
Former Muang Thong United coach Rene Desaeyere had the right approach. Although a fearsome competitor (the image of him fighting, at sixty three, trying to break through a riot shield against Chonburi still burns bright) he knew that each player had different buttons to be pressed or avoided. The touch line was his place of pure ferocity where any opposition was fair game, but it invited lazy thinking by the opposition who saw him only as an attack dog. The real battle had already been won: getting the Alpha Thai players onside.
Foreign players were far easier: shape up or ship out. From who roomed with who, to identifying the strong personalities and giving them extra attention, he didn't make the mistake of arriving like a steamroller: he listened carefully and learnt fast. He quickly saw that, whilst not club captain at the time, Datsakorn Thonglao was a highly-influential dressing room figure so, in team breakfasts at the Amari Airport Hotel, he would give him high profile time and attention. He also knew that, whilst shy, goalkeeper Kawin Thamsachanan was a model professional who just needed to know the coach believed in him. In the quarter final of the 2010 AFC Cup first leg against Syrian team Al Karamah, for the only time, Rene walked onto the pitch during warm ups and did some practice with his young keeper to show that he was (literally) right behind him.
Talking with Dick Advocaat last year when his PSV team visited Thailand, the first question he asked about any of the highly skilled Thai players was how hard they trained. Watching the brutally intense session by his players on the Muang Thong pitch, his assumption was of a similar level of ferocity. When Thai coaches talked about their players love of "monkey" games that involve them rolling around the floor he swiftly disengaged, realising there was little common ground.
In the West it's brutally obvious when you have lost the the dressing room but, in Thailand, players rarely seek out conflict. Rather, they will pick up mystery injuries just before a match, play five percent below their best or get themselves sent off just before a match you can't afford to lose. The rebels in Thailand don't step forward, but everyone takes one step back, leaving the foreign coach a Dead Man Walking. Whether right or wrong, it is a fact of Thai football life. Until coaches seek out good advice from the mass of former foreign coaches before arriving, they will quickly make their first and last mistake. Just look at Rene: he got it right at Muang Thong and still got sacked...twice.
No comments:
Post a Comment