Luis Aragones: Stubborn Old Mule or Brilliant Wise Man?

If one were to watch coverage of the Spanish national side’s preparation training in these last couple of days before their Thursday encounter with Russia in the semi finals and saw Luis Aragones teetering around the practice pitch, one would be likely to point to the screen and gasp, “My lord, an elderly gentleman has become lost and has wandered straight out onto the ground… how sad.”

By equal measure, if one were to say that to Aragones’ face, that person would get a swift punch in the mouth—and don’t think the old boy couldn’t do it.

Referred to as "Scrooge," "un hombrecito" (a self-righteous crotchety old man) and "un maleducado" (an uneducated peasant) he has been one of the most despised national managers in recent memory, making principled, unpopular decisions, being notoriously unpleasant—personally and towards the media—and stubborn as Don Quixote’s mule.

And now, after Spain’s much-celebrated quarter final win over Italy, Aragones’ alternate nickname "el Sabio de Hortaleza" (the wise man from Hortaleza, his home town) has been inked all over Spanish newspapers, Catalan and Madrileno alike.

And the reason is almost identical to why he was so hated before: because he’s a stubborn old bastard.

Aragones has refused to give into public pressure since taking on the mantle, being the only manager in the past decade to make the almost unholy decision to remove Raul from "la Seleccion."

Aragones received hate mail, threats, public slander and was railed in the Spanish press—particularly from Marca, the notoriously pro-Madrid mouthpiece publication. But he never gave in, and it has proved to be a stroke of genius.

What many don’t understand about Spanish football is that it is much like its politics—splintered and almost impossible to control when placed in one room, or a football pitch. And although Raul is indeed a great leader, he never actually did very much to "bring players together"—in fact, he had very much the opposite effect.

Raul’s unbridled "Madridista" sentiments never sat well with the likes of "Tarzan" Puyol, Iniesta or Xavi, nor with the Basques in the side. And even though he had a blazing season for Real this year, his absence might just be part of the change in attitude of the Spaniards.

Players are happy, training well, and even though there are still the bust-ups (Ramos and Scrooge went at it not but a couple of days ago) the team chemistry is visibly better from campaigns passed.

And for this next fixture against Russia, Aragones announced today that he is making no changes to the squad that has brought him this far already—despite the relatively poor play of Iniesta against Italy, and Cesc Fabregas ready to tear off his substitute vest if Scrooge even sneezes in his general direction.

Santi Cazorla also impressed in the past few games, and with David Silva apparently incapable of actually putting a shot on the frame of the goal, perhaps "Santito" would get the nod.

El Sabio says “No.” Old people do like their routines don’t they…

Call him consistent if “hard-headed, stubborn old grey-hair” sounds too undiplomatic. But win after win, Luis is getting it done on and off the pitch, with Spain now on a winning streak of 19 games.

Tactically, Aragones isn’t changing a thing, but his biggest fear is looming on Thursday: not Hiddink’s genius, not Arshavin’s brilliance, but Spain having to wear the dreaded yellow shirt in the upcoming semi final.

When the LFP revealed Spain’s golden away strip a few months ago (yellow usually reserved for the national team’s third jersey), a low “joder” (damn) must have been uttered from every Spanish mouth from Mallorca to La Coruna, Aragones’ the loudest of them all.

Scrooge’s aversion to Spain’s kryptonite color is well-known, after refusing to take a bouquet of yellow flowers upon arriving in Germany for the 2006 World Cup, and once screaming at Raul when he showed up at the Spanish training camp with a yellow garment, yelling “Quitatela, quitatela!” (Take it off, take it off!) over and over.

But whatever the wardrobe, the game is going to be a feast of attacking football, with both teams brilliant and quick, slicing strikes into the opposition’s box and neither possessing a particularly impressive rear guard.

Don’t expect any great surprises from Spain’s almost 70-year-old manager, but maybe he’s just the stubborn old mule that the Armada will ride to glory.