late, or held out when it seemed impossible. At Gothenburg, and again at Benfica, the players came to think of him as a lucky manager, and themselves as a lucky team.’
At Benfica, Stromberg says, Eriksson was the voice of reason in the dressing room, rather than Mr Big. ‘He didn’t behave like some sort of genius who wanted everybody to know how many things he’d won. Some coaches are like that, but he certainly wasn’t. Each week, he just told the team how he wanted them to play. By personal example, he was good at creating the kind of hushed, thoughtful atmosphere you need in the dressing room before important games. When Sven left Benfica in 1983, I left as well. I knew it wouldn’t be as good there without him. He is the best coach I ever had, in a long career.
‘I’ve seen so many coaches who have thought one thing at the beginning of the season, then panicked and changed when results didn’t immediately go their way. They change players, change tactics, change their style of play, and how often does it pay off? Sven is always calm, and always sticks to his method. His strength of character is his biggest attribute.’
Stefan Schwarz, the Swedish international midfielder, won the Portuguese league and cup, and was a European Cup Finalist during Eriksson’s second spell at Benfica. Schwarz told me: ‘He’s also a very good psychologist, clever at getting into his players’ minds. At Benfica in those days he had Brazilians and Russians, as well as Portuguese and Swedes to deal with, and because his ability overall was so impressive, he commanded the respect of them all. He never raises his voice, and I think that’s because he doesn’t need to. You can see when he’s upset from the look on his face, and if you don’t respond the way he wants you to, you’ll be the one who suffers.’
England’s goalkeeper, David James, is also a fan, his comments clearly including a thinly veiled criticism of Eriksson’s predecessor, Kevin Keegan, whose relentless mateyness could be wearing. He said: ‘Mr Eriksson is one of the quieter managers I have worked with, but he is no less effective for that. You don’t necessarily want the boss plonking himself next to you every time you sit down for a bowl of soup. As a tactician, I would say that he puts the team together like a jigsaw. Different players are treated as individual pieces as he pulls them aside for a quiet chat, telling Michael Owen, for example, to run from deep. That conversation will be in isolation, but when the team comes together, all the pieces drop into place. The training is certainly more serious than under the last regime, with most of the work related to real match scenarios. Mr Eriksson, though, is very careful not to make it obvious from day one who is in his starting eleven, in case the other players switch off.’
The man himself borders on the esoteric when discussing his man-management catechism. ‘The ability to make the right decision, and then dare to do the right things in all situations, is decisive at the top of the modern game,’ he says. ‘If one player isn’t up for it mentally, the whole team can collapse. When we have to give a performance – a competition, a match, some task at work – there are two forces inside us, pulling in different directions. One is ambition, and this is a positive force. Our ambition wants us to improve, to succeed, to attain the goals we have set ourselves. The other force is performance anxiety. This is a negative force. It produces a fear of failing, of making mistakes, of disgracing ourselves and, as a result, of not being accepted by others. These “others” might be our trainer, our teammates, the media, the supporters and, in everyday life, friends, neighbours and workmates.’
Eriksson works on accentuating the positive and eliminating this fear of failure, in the belief that mental strength is ultimately decisive. He reasons: ‘If you look at the top footballers, playing ability among many of them is very even. We can’t train more than we do, we’re already at the maximum that players can take nowadays, so it is mental differences which will decide who the real winners are.’
From day one at Lazio, and again with England, he had set out to break down the mental barriers that prevented players from going beyond the limit of what they believed was possible. ‘We often find it difficult, both intellectually and emotionally, to accept a sufficiently high level for our performance,’ he says. ‘We dare not pass our upper limit and reach our maximum. We have an inner mental barrier that stops us from succeeding, and have to break through the barriers we mentally erect that prevent us from using all our resources. For a long time, it was considered impossible to run a mile under four minutes, but then Roger Bannister did so, and it was not long before a number of other runners managed it. Bannister showed that it was permitted to run that quickly. Any breaking through such barriers has to be done first in the mind. The mind must prepare the way for the body.’
He invited the England players to try a mental exercise. They were to think about the phrases ‘I must’, ‘I should’, and ‘I’ve got to’. Then think of ‘I want to’, ‘I’ll have a go’, and ‘I can’. He explained: ‘It is fairly natural that we will not perform as well if we are forced to do something, rather than being free to do the same thing. It is also true that many sportsmen feel an unexpressed compulsion from their environment to reach certain goals. A typical example of the wrong type of thinking is the thought: “I mustn’t miss.” Close your eyes, relax and imagine you are in a match that is coming up. You see yourself on the pitch and you think: “Must, should, got to”. How do you feel? Don’t you feel that your personality withers and your mood sinks? After a moment or two, repeat the exercise, but think instead: “I want to”, “I’ll have a go”, “I can”. You immediately feel better, you’re practically raring to go.’
On less esoteric lines, Eriksson articulates his managerial style as follows: ‘First of all, the leader must be a complete master of what he is going to teach others, and he must also dare to be himself. Don’t try to be somebody else, or you will be found out very quickly. I would feel extremely stupid if I were to stand at the bench screaming and whistling at the players and the referee.
‘There must always be a target, or goal, and clear lines: “This is the way I want you to play football.” As a leader, you must be clear in what you say and explain everything to the group so that they really understand what you have in mind. When you have come that far, only one thing remains, and that may well be the most difficult one: having everybody in the team accept it. The important thing is having everyone understand that this is an agreement. Everybody must be moving in the same direction.
‘You have to be generous with praise, but in sport the big reward is the event itself. That’s where sport is simple and straightforward – win or lose, reward or punishment. You must set your goals high, but they must be realistic ones. You cannot go around promising titles if the material at your disposal is not good enough to do it. There is also the matter of fingertip feeling and intuition, which I think all good bosses have. When, as a coach, you have a team which is a goal or two down at half-time, you have to do something about it. Often it comes down to changing one or two players. It is a decision which seldom has a logical basis, but something has to be done. It does not always change the outcome of a game, but if it works, you will be called a genius.’
So is he a genius? He smiled at the suggestion. ‘A bit of modesty does not hurt. During the success of the past few years, more than once I have had to pinch myself. Then I say: “Hey there, Sven, you were born in Torsby.” By remembering your origins you get the proportions right in life.’
CHAPTER SIX AN ENFIELD TOWN FULL-BACK
Sven-Goran Eriksson spends nearly every Christmas at the parental home in Torsby, and if you saw the place you wouldn’t blame him. To visit this sleepy, snowy Swedish village in winter is to be put in mind of Bing Crosby’s White Christmas idyll, and to wonder how anybody could ever leave.
Sven-Goran was born on 5 February 1948, while the rest of the world was preoccupied with Gandhi’s assassination and the gathering crisis in Berlin. He was the first child for Sven senior, a 19-year-old bus conductor, and Ulla, who supplemented the family income with a variety of jobs, which took her behind the counter at the village newsagent and later to the local hospital, as an auxiliary.
Torsby these days is ‘New England’ in more