By Paul Tomkins.
You’ll all remember precisely why Liverpool appointed Jürgen Klopp last October, upon firing Brendan Rodgers. But it’s worth a quick reminder.
Klopp had taken Borussia Dortmund to two league titles and various cup finals, including one in the Champions League in 2013 – which was lost narrowly (and the German FA Cup won in the double-year of 2012). We all remember how he did it.
He arrived at the Westfalenstadion and instantly solved all of the problems, and on the seventh day he rested, possibly dressing in lederhosen listening to some Bavarian heavy metal.
In came Robert Lewandowski, the Bundesliga-proven centre-forward, for £47m, and instantly he got 50 goals a season. Matts Hummels cost £35m – snatched away from Bayern Munich against their wishes – as Klopp didn’t so much open the chequebook as prise it wide apart; as wide as the infamous legs that led to the Y-shaped coffin in Blackadder. Klopp was on a rampage.
Mario Götze was nicked away from another rival for £49m, after he’d shown just how good he was, and all the fans wanted him (they petitioned their owners to sign him). Shinji Kagawa was an international sensation, known by kids the world over due to his repeated World Cup heroics; he cost £39m, rising to £51m. Nuri Şahin, Marco Reus and Neven Subotić were household names, and Klopp hoovered them up for about €100m, in his quest for glory.
Klopp didn’t give a fuck about resale value – resale value, what a crock! – and so never bought any young players from undervalued markets. Every player he signed was at least 27 years old, utterly proven, well within his prime, and undeniably world-class in bracket. Polishing rough diamonds is something they do in Botswana, not Dortmund.
As we all know, Dortmund are the biggest and most successful club in Germany, where they dwarf their nearest rivals, Bayern Munich. Klopp spent extravagantly, on the world’s best players; there was no room for inexperience, no time for improvement.
Sure, he probably did a bit of coaching, and shouted at them in German, but rather than work on team shape, and fitness, and squad unity, and all those tactical details, he simply spent several hundred million Euros in his first summer, and again the next summer, and Dortmund were then set up for the rest of his tenure. That’s how he got to be so good; how his stellar reputation was cemented.
The good times were kept rolling by buying global megastars – such as Brazilian striker Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Spanish playmaker/goalscorer Henrikh Mkhitaryan. People say Klopp did a great job, but in fairness, he just wore smart glasses whilst the moneymen did their thing.
Although having said all that, I may be wrong.
It may be that he arrived and took a good couple of years to sort out the mess he inherited at a mid-table side. It could be that he paid none of those aforementioned prices for players, and that those kind of figures are more what the players became worth, rather than the pittances paid.
It could be that, rather than buy established names, he bought promising young players and established them. It may be true that he didn’t buy players from fashionable countries, but places like Poland.
It could be that he actively avoided expensive megastar signings, even when Dortmund’s prize money started massively increasing, because that’s not his style. It could be that he likes younger players who have retained their hunger.
It could be that not many people in Germany had actually heard of Lewandowski, Kagawa and Błaszczykowski; and that Aubameyang and Mkhitaryan – actually of Gabon and Armenia – weren’t players everyone in the Bundesliga was looking at, and Subotić wasn’t an obvious choice by any means; and that Götze, Reus, Şahin, Hummels, Bender and Gündoğan were youngsters who were not names on everyone’s lips when they made their Dortmund debuts.
But this is the post-factual age, right? Facts, and truths, are all fairly slippery. And who needs experts? – just give me what I want (hell, what I demand), irrespective of reality.
You’ll all remember precisely why Liverpool appointed Jürgen Klopp last October, upon firing Brendan Rodgers. But it’s worth a quick reminder.
Klopp had taken Borussia Dortmund to two league titles and various cup finals, including one in the Champions League in 2013 – which was lost narrowly (and the German FA Cup won in the double-year of 2012). We all remember how he did it.
He arrived at the Westfalenstadion and instantly solved all of the problems, and on the seventh day he rested, possibly dressing in lederhosen listening to some Bavarian heavy metal.
In came Robert Lewandowski, the Bundesliga-proven centre-forward, for £47m, and instantly he got 50 goals a season. Matts Hummels cost £35m – snatched away from Bayern Munich against their wishes – as Klopp didn’t so much open the chequebook as prise it wide apart; as wide as the infamous legs that led to the Y-shaped coffin in Blackadder. Klopp was on a rampage.
Mario Götze was nicked away from another rival for £49m, after he’d shown just how good he was, and all the fans wanted him (they petitioned their owners to sign him). Shinji Kagawa was an international sensation, known by kids the world over due to his repeated World Cup heroics; he cost £39m, rising to £51m. Nuri Şahin, Marco Reus and Neven Subotić were household names, and Klopp hoovered them up for about €100m, in his quest for glory.
Klopp didn’t give a fuck about resale value – resale value, what a crock! – and so never bought any young players from undervalued markets. Every player he signed was at least 27 years old, utterly proven, well within his prime, and undeniably world-class in bracket. Polishing rough diamonds is something they do in Botswana, not Dortmund.
As we all know, Dortmund are the biggest and most successful club in Germany, where they dwarf their nearest rivals, Bayern Munich. Klopp spent extravagantly, on the world’s best players; there was no room for inexperience, no time for improvement.
Sure, he probably did a bit of coaching, and shouted at them in German, but rather than work on team shape, and fitness, and squad unity, and all those tactical details, he simply spent several hundred million Euros in his first summer, and again the next summer, and Dortmund were then set up for the rest of his tenure. That’s how he got to be so good; how his stellar reputation was cemented.
The good times were kept rolling by buying global megastars – such as Brazilian striker Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang and Spanish playmaker/goalscorer Henrikh Mkhitaryan. People say Klopp did a great job, but in fairness, he just wore smart glasses whilst the moneymen did their thing.
Although having said all that, I may be wrong.
It may be that he arrived and took a good couple of years to sort out the mess he inherited at a mid-table side. It could be that he paid none of those aforementioned prices for players, and that those kind of figures are more what the players became worth, rather than the pittances paid.
It could be that, rather than buy established names, he bought promising young players and established them. It may be true that he didn’t buy players from fashionable countries, but places like Poland.
It could be that he actively avoided expensive megastar signings, even when Dortmund’s prize money started massively increasing, because that’s not his style. It could be that he likes younger players who have retained their hunger.
It could be that not many people in Germany had actually heard of Lewandowski, Kagawa and Błaszczykowski; and that Aubameyang and Mkhitaryan – actually of Gabon and Armenia – weren’t players everyone in the Bundesliga was looking at, and Subotić wasn’t an obvious choice by any means; and that Götze, Reus, Şahin, Hummels, Bender and Gündoğan were youngsters who were not names on everyone’s lips when they made their Dortmund debuts.
But this is the post-factual age, right? Facts, and truths, are all fairly slippery. And who needs experts? – just give me what I want (hell, what I demand), irrespective of reality.