Chelsea FC: Andre Villas-Boas and What a Scot Can Teach Us About Managing

According to legend, in 1785 the poet Robert Burns walked into his barn during the harsh dead of winter in Dumfries to find a mouse nest. He stood before the gathering, watching the rodents scatter at the sensing of his presence, all making haste to safety away from this imposing beast that was perched over them.

Burns then returned to his comfort and warmth of his home and as would be the problem for most philosophical poets, was not be able to get the image out of his mind.

Why did these creatures to which he meant no harm or show no aggression run?

Yes, they had violated his property, chewed wood and other goods, but he was not concerned with the petty theft; they were just acting in their nature to continue life.

Philosophy turns to poetry in the artist and great poetry a work of nature, not nurture. So when Burns sat down and put his thoughts on paper he produced one of the greatest poems of Romanticism—“To a Mouse”.

The story of a fractured relationship between man and nature, where man did not hold up their end of the bargain in respecting something beautiful, pure and loaned to man. The speaker is not man, nor nature; he is a being floating above it all, a spectator, viewing the distance between these two, or perhaps more accurately, the collision. Nonetheless, he is affected deeply by this travesty and has no power to prompt change.

Change can only be enacted by a god. Man has no right to inflict the transformation of things as they are according to Burns. Men are only players in the game and must respect their place.

A mark of great poetry is the ability to transcend time and circumstance. The ability to relate a poem to a seemingly unrelated subject than what the poem refers to is a point on which to judge its content. Its allegorical considerations are of the utmost importance.

“To a Mouse” is a poem of consequence because it can refer to nature, the Industrial Revolution, technology, philosophy and even Chelsea Football Club.

When Andre Villas-Boas came to Chelsea this summer there was an up swell of optimism. Everyone, myself included, saw this as the dawn of a new era. There was a sense that this was a move to instill a sort of stability with a club that has been wrought with change and lacked identity.

Young players were bought, old ones were subsumed. Style was changed to fit a "total football" persona—the way of the modern game. The belief was that Chelsea would never struggle again. Trophies would come hard, but never seem too distant.

“The best laid schemes of mice and men/Go often askew”

Nearly halfway through his first season in charge, the ilk of belief in Villas-Boas has vanished. Those that follow Chelsea with fervor are calling for his head, the same way Ancelotti’s was raised on a pike for all of West London to see. Those of passion remain hopeful, but aimlessly so.

Chelsea are currently fifth in the league, out of the Carling Cup and need a win over Valencia to advance to the knockout rounds of Champions League. None of this would have the weight of total collapse if it were not for one thing: In all my years of watching Chelsea, they have never seemed so lost, so impotent, so devoid of any notion of who they are or how to play. They are the worst Chelsea team I have ever seen.

Where did it go wrong?

Villas-Boas got the job at Cheslea by having a singular moment of success. Never has any manager been brought into such a high profile club with so little in the way of a true history. I will never concede to anyone that Villas-Boas’ achievements at Porto were great. Well deserved, yes, but greatness is not counted in 50 games. It is done over years of success and not just in the hands of fortune, but in spite of it.

What Villas-Boas did at Porto was nothing more than a blip in the history of the game. A spike not visible to the naked eye in footballing chronology.

His innovative 4-3-3 attacking formation was the talk the Iberian peninsula, a way to play defense while controlling through offense. An all-around game of possession, speed and overwhelming force that made defenders sweat at the thought of playing against it.

Astronomical numbers were had by Porto players—86 goals shared between the three forwards and only 33 conceded in all competitions. It was a perfect group and circumstances for such a system.

Chelsea’s success as a high profile club extends back less than a decade. With their first league title in 2004-05, a title which marked the 50th anniversary of their first, the club that occupies Stamford Bridge had built itself a reputation and identity of strength.  

This was not a team that would tip toe around the ring with you for 90 minutes, taking strategic jabs at the body to accumulate points. They were going to wear you down by beating your face in. Thuggery was sometimes used to describe them; a hard-hitting brand of football where individual strength earned goals and stopped attacks in development.

Results took the lead over process and results were always good despite how they got them. This was the nature of the Chelsea game.

“I'm truly sorry man's dominion/Has broken Nature's social union”

Why is the 4-3-3 not working here? There is little question that the talent level for Chelsea is at least on par with Porto’s and most certainly runs deeper. What is the reason then?

The nature of the Chelsea game is being impeded upon by the antithetical disposition of a false prophet. Villas-Boas has attempted to change how Chelsea play, who they are. The attempt to turn them into a finesse squad, where short passing and technical skill has exposed them as weak and ineffective.

Wingbacks are getting stranded in the corner. Midfielders are being blanketed by defense. The forwards are standing stagnant in the attack. The defensive line is being broken through. It just is not working.

But instead of taking a step back and reevaluating the situation, Villas-Boas has allowed his ego to interfere. “I am the prodigal son of managing,” he allows himself to be told. “They have deemed me as such and my system as flawless. It’s the players, not me. More practice is needed. In time it will show.”

And perhaps he is right. Perhaps with the right squad it does work. He could have similar success in England if he had the players he needed. But is that the mark of a good coach? The ability to manage a system and not players?

There are three forces at work in Burns’ poem—Man, nature and a speaker. There are three forces at Chelsea—Villas-Boas, the players and the fans. Like the speaker we are an entity removed from the action described in the poem. We observe from afar, but are wholly connected to all that takes place. We are the ones affected:

The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

If only we were active in this poem, if only we could impose change. But alas we are not. There is only one thing that can impose change; a force not described in the poem. It is a being that exists in the stars above, watching from the clouds...or the comfort of a luxury suite.