Joe Lovejoy - Sven-Goran Eriksson

A man of egalitarian principles, Eriksson does not hold with the concept of favourites, but Mancini came close to it, as did Jonas Thern, the multitalented Swedish midfielder who played for him at Benfica. Thern, recently manager at Halmstad, followed the same path, from part-time football in Sweden to the high-pressure environment of one of the most famous clubs in the world. In an interview for this book, he told me: ‘In Portugal, the country was different, the people were different and especially the football was different. It was more technical, and we trained much harder, as full-time professionals. In Sweden at that time, you had to have a job, as well as football, to make a good living, and I had been working for my father’s printing company in Malmo. In Portugal I went full-time, and found it hard work at first. Often we trained morning and afternoon.’

Thern’s mentor had been Roy Hodgson, who had signed him for Malmo. He says: ‘Roy and Bob Houghton, when they came to Sweden in the late seventies, made Swedish football what it is today. They brought English organisation to our game and a new way of playing. Instead of standing off and counter-attacking they pressed when the opposition had the ball. They introduced all the things I’d seen as a kid every Saturday when I watched English football on television. There was conflict in Sweden before that style was accepted, but after a few years even the most conservative Swedish trainers changed over to the new, English approach. Nowadays, Swedish trainers are brought up on the methods and style of play that Roy and Bob brought over. ‘Svennis’ [as Eriksson is known to friends and family] made minor changes to suit Swedish players better, and when those changes took full effect, he won the UEFA Cup with Gothenburg.

‘When we were at Benfica, they weren’t a really rich club, but they had enough money to sign good players, and they also had their famous name to trade on. It was quite something to pull on the shirt of Benfica, with all their history. I think we had a squad of 24, and every one of them was an international of some sort. You expected to win things with players like that around you. Svennis was good at bringing the best out of everyone and finding their best roles. He’s very clever at moulding players so that they fit together to form the best possible team. Stefan Schwarz [another Swede] was a good example. He got the best out of him, to the benefit of the team, at left-back, left-wing and centre midfield.’

Thern admitted that he was basing his own managerial style on Eriksson’s. ‘I learned a lot from Svennis, sometimes without knowing it at the time. The way to treat people, for one thing. Whatever the circumstances, whether they criticise or support him, he always tries to treat everyone the same. Also, he has an aura of calmness around him that he brings to his teams. He is a person you like to listen to because when he says something it is always interesting, always constructive and beneficial. As a player, he makes you feel confident. If you are worried about your form, and you go to him for advice, he’ll always be reassuring. He’ll say: “No problem. Everybody has their ups and downs, trainers as well as players. Just keep on working on what you are good at. I know that when you are in good shape, you’re one of the best.” After you’d been talking to him, you felt: “He thinks I’m one of the best players in Europe and he’s a top trainer, so he can’t be wrong.” In a couple of minutes he’d have restored your self-confidence. He’s very good at building that up, for his players and his teams.’

In common with every other player who has spoken on the subject, Thern had never seen Eriksson lose that famous self-control. ‘I never heard him even raise his voice in the three years I played for him at Benfica. But as soon as he came into the dressing room at half-time, you knew if he was not satisfied. It was a case of: “Oh oh, best to be quiet here and just listen.” He wouldn’t shout. He just stared at you and immediately you knew you had to play much better in the second half, otherwise you’d be off and dropped from the team. He didn’t have to say anything. That look of his said it all.’

Thern explained: ‘Sometimes we’d start a game and wouldn’t be playing well and the opposition would be in command. He’d spot it from the bench and change things very quickly. He’d swap players around or change formation, from four in midfield to five. He was particularly good at knowing what the opposition’s strengths and weaknesses were. I remember when we were playing Porto once he said: “They’re a bit lacking here, on the left”, so we knew exactly where to concentrate our attacks. It sounds obvious and easy, but you’d be surprised how many trainers don’t brief their teams like that. I had a lot of big-name trainers after Svennis. Some of them were good coaches during games, some of them good only at giving instruction during the week. Sven is spot on at both. Overall, he’s the best I’ve played for.’

There had been no favouritism shown towards, and certainly no socialising with, the Swedish triumvirate (Thern, Schwarz and leading scorer Mats Magnusson) at Benfica. Thern had heard that Eriksson had been closer to his players at Gothenburg, but said: ‘I think the relationship has to be different in the professional world. For example, sometimes the Swedish players at Benfica would ask for an extra day when we went home for Christmas. He’d say: “I know you’ll behave if you have another day away from the club, but I can’t be seen to be favouring you because you are Swedish.” He always made a point of treating all his players equally.

‘Yes, he kept his distance, and I think that’s very important for a trainer in the professional game. You have to have a good relationship with your players, but you mustn’t get too close. Everybody has to know who’s boss.’

Peter Taylor was England’s caretaker before Eriksson took charge, and continued as part of the new coaching set-up until his work at Leicester City precluded further involvement. He says: ‘All of a sudden, I got the opportunity to be caretaker manager for a non-qualifying game, and decided that I had enough good, young players who could do well. I’m not sure Italy tried that hard against us, but we did do well. Sven looked at that game and saw decent performances without players like Campbell, Scholes, Owen and Gerrard, and thought: “We’re not bad at all.” We had a new, foreign manager, fresh to the players, who were starting to feel more together. We played Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? in Italy, and everybody seemed to want to join in. For Sven’s first game, against Spain, we had a golf competition at the hotel, and again everybody wanted to do it. The team spirit started to look very good. Players changed from being low on confidence to being on a high, and they’re good enough to take some stopping when they’re like that.’

Of Eriksson’s personality, Taylor added: ‘They [the players] love his calmness. They like the fact that he lets people get on with their work. They like his sense of humour. They know he’s got a fantastic background. With a CV like his, he’d cracked it before he walked through the door. And they enjoy listening to him talk. It’s not complicated stuff, it just makes loads of sense to the players. The last time I was fully involved was Greece away [6 June 2001] and I’ve never seen such a confident group. We could have beaten anybody.’

Ruud Gullit played for Eriksson for two season at Sampdoria, and holds the man, and his methods, in the highest esteem. In an interview for this book, the 1987 World Footballer of the Year told me: ‘Milan wouldn’t play me regularly, they said I had knees of glass, so I went to Sampdoria in 1993 and played nearly every game. We came third in Serie A and won the Italian Cup. Nobody thought we had it in us, but the key was how Eriksson handled everything. I was really charmed by him. He’s a real gentleman. If you didn’t do what he wanted, or just did your own thing, his character meant that it would only affect you. He was so nice, such a good man in the way he treated people that it seemed rude, as well as silly, not to do what he asked. Because of the regard we all had for him, he never had to raise his voice to anyone. He would talk to you, one-on-one, in a very civilised way. He was genuinely interested in you, personally – not just what you were doing on the pitch.’