Idea of Zinedine Zidane at Real Madrid Is Alluring, but Harsh Realities Remain

The powder-blue jacket said something. In fact, it said a lot, about the man wearing it as well as the idea he represents.

Worn by others, the bold, checked number would have come across as ostentatious, indicative of arrogance or overcompensation. But not here. Not now. In this case, there was an ease in the way it was being worn, the blue jacket's message one of cool self-assurance. "I'm Zidane," it simply said. 

On Monday, as Real Madrid presented Zinedine Zidane as the club's latest manager, that was the message being emphasised, and that, in short, is the rationale behind his appointment. "There can be no doubt," said club president Florentino Perez with his very first line on his new coach, "that Zidane is one of the game's all-time great figures." 

This was a press conference that prompted hundreds of questions despite the fact that questions weren't being taken, and yet ironically, the biggest question of all didn't need asking. He's Zidane, was its two-word answer. 

Of course, this has been the plan for a long time. Since Zidane returned to the club in 2009, the idea of his ascending organically to the position of first-team coach at Real Madrid has been an alluring one, consistently gathering momentum and representing a certain idealism.

Yet these weren't the envisaged circumstances; the idea was that it would one day be a handover rather than a takeover. But Madrid had reached a point where they felt they had no choice. 

Gripped by institutional tension on all levels, Madrid have replaced Rafa Benitez with a legend. Here, credentials and track records didn't matter; this was about popularity, sensations, aura and symbolism. About winning back hearts.

In appointing Zidane, Madrid are essentially holding up a revered figure and saying: "Fans, players, media, everyone: Here's someone to believe in."

Marca dubbed him "La Soluzzion." 

For all involved, this appointment is a fascinating one; identity forces thoughts of suitability into a strange sort of secondary importance.  

In world football, only a handful of men could walk into a room, say nothing and immediately command the sort of respect Zidane does. There's a quiet yet supreme authority to the Frenchman that's compelling; just as he did as a player, he retains a serenity that makes you feel major obstacles can be overcome.

Obstacles such as the fact that he's had his coaching badges for less than 12 months. Or that he's never coached a senior team. 

Indeed, it's the idea of Zidane that grips you. You picture him walking into Real Madrid's volatile, politicised dressing room and putting out fires. He was once one of them, after all; he gets them, and they get him. Consequently, this footballing icon fits neatly into the train of thought that player relations sit above all else in importance for a manager at the Bernabeu—a perception somewhat reinforced by the success enjoyed by the endearing and extremely similar pair of Vicente del Bosque and Carlo Ancelotti. 

This is the idea, anyway; there's little else to go off.

Yet the realities complicate much of it. 

Since retiring, Zidane hasn't always been a man hell-bent on coaching, and despite his recent move into the field, he even recently conceded he wasn't ready for the position he now occupies. "I am doing things little by little," he said; what's he's done instead is go from the wading pool to the Pacific Ocean, which is a colossal jump as it is. It's even more so when you're still working out who you are as a coach. 

Affording him some leeway in the beginning will be a honeymoon period owed to his status, something Benitez was never afforded. Yet very quickly, Zidane will be facing exactly the same problems his predecessor did. 

Daniel Ochoa de Olza/Associated Press

For a long time, Benitez toed the company line at the Bernabeu but finally broke ranks before the trip to Valencia. Pressed on inconsistencies and unconvincing progress, Benitez for the first time pointed the finger internally rather than externally, commenting on an absence of balance, about "spirit," about being "tougher."

He referred to examples such as Alfredo Di Stefano, Juanito and Pirri, the suggestion being that some of his players lacked what made those names great. That many of the club's problems were down to them—"them" being the players, the president. 

Politically, it bordered on suicide from Benitez, but much of what he said was correct. And Zidane's presence alone doesn't change it. 

Though he carries an aura, Zidane doesn't carry a genie's lamp. Like Benitez, like Ancelotti before him, the Frenchman faces the unenviable task of forming a functional and harmonious outfit from a squad almost incapable of such things.

Last season, Ancelotti opted to satisfy the stars, and it didn't work; this season, Benitez initially went for functionality, and it didn't either. Nor did it when he tried Ancelotti's method (or Perez's method, if you will). 

As such, Zidane is being thrust into conditions which Champions League-winning managers have found impossible. If he succeeds, his legend will be heightened immeasurably. But if he fails, it will say more about the club than it will about him.

Madrid will promote the view that Zidane is the option they've wanted all along, but an uncomfortable truth is that right now, he's also their only option. They've been through most of the others; the ones they haven't wouldn't come.

Chaotically, then, with haste, the club has stumbled into a situation professed to be idyllic but that will actually begin with significant problems. He's now there to address 18 months' worth of mistakes, ranging from misguided transfers to ill-thought firings and hirings in the dugout. 

Zidane arrives representing an alluring idea, but the realities at Real Madrid haven't changed.