While Marcelo Bielsa has pursued a footballing vision with an obsessive attention to detail that has brought him a cult following, the Leeds manager was interested in a career with certain similarities.
Bielsa, a movie buff, would have liked to have become a film director. The leading Chilean director Luis Vera believes he had some of the qualities required to excel in a profession with more than its share of misunderstood geniuses.
Bielsa befriended Vera during his time in charge of Chile, who he took to the 2010 World Cup.
The latter spoke to the journalist Tim Rich, for his new book The Quality of Madness: A Life of Marcelo Bielsa. "He told me that if he hadn't become a football coach, he would have liked to have become a film director, but he doubted whether he had the talent," Vera said.
“In a world of football that is manipulated by commercial interests, Marcelo represents a romantic ethic.
"He is more than a football manager because his outlook on the game is the same as his outlook on life. He sees the world just like a film director.”
Bielsa saw Vera's film Fiestapatria three times and also befriended the Peruvian director Francisco Lombardi.
While he is known for his extensive use of video footage to assess teams, taking 2,000 DVDs to the 2002 World Cup and watching each of Leeds’ games from the previous season in preparation for his meeting with the Championship club, he told the Spanish director David Trueba he would watch two films a day when he was not working.
Bielsa’s use of footage dates back three decades. Cristian Domizzi, who played in his Argentinian title-winning Newell’s Old Boys team in the 1990s, recalled: “One day he brought us some video cassettes of Jari Litmanen. I was astonished because I had no idea who he was.
"Later, the guy became a phenomenon at Ajax but when Bielsa gave me the videos, he was still in Finland and nobody knew him. I couldn’t believe it. Only Bielsa could have got hold of that footage.”
Bielsa’s obsessiveness was such that when Newell’s lost a Copa Libertadores game 6-0 to San Lorenzo and angry fans came to his house to confront him, the manager answered the door, holding a hand grenade. “If you don’t go now,” he told them. “I will pull the pin.”
Two of his Argentina side in that unsuccessful 2002 World Cup campaign could also vouch for Bielsa’s fanatic devotion.
Juan Sebastian Veron and Juan Pablo Sorin clashed in training, ending with the midfielder, who had a crewcut, jokingly accusing the long-haired left-back of stealing his locks.
“The players all laughed but Bielsa wasn’t amused,” the journalist Bobby Ghosh told Rich. “He ordered Veron and Sorin off the pitch, screaming that if they couldn’t be serious, they didn’t deserve to be on his team. Sorin looked genuinely worried.”
As Ghosh recalled, Bielsa then “paced along the sidelines, glaring at the carefully manicured grass like some demented botanist.”
When Argentina went out of the World Cup, Bielsa cried. When they won the Olympic Games in 2004, he dedicated the triumph to the team of 2002.
Later that year, he surprised his players by resigning. After a 3-1 win over Peru, Javier Mascherano recalled: “He was more emotional that day than when we had won the Olympics. He was shouting and screaming but I thought it would be the beginning of something rather than the end.”
Bielsa then headed to a convent for three months before eventually resuming a managerial career that took him to Chile, Athletic Bilbao, Marseille, Lazio (for 48 hours), Lille and Leeds, directing operations in idiosyncratic fashion, but never his beloved films.
