The PSV Mornington manager stared down at the remains of his arroz con leche and sighed a heavy sigh.
His self-imposed exile of the last few days was not having its desired effect. He’d locked himself in his office and hadn’t seen anyone outside the room since Saturday night.
He turned up his face and spoke slowly: “Just when I was starting to get a run of form together Gary Cahill gets sent off and Frank Lampard misses a penalty. How can I make up the 36 points to climb the next place in the table with most of my team misfiring?”
This short outburst over the PSV manager returned his gloomy gaze to the table.
“I want my team to play with the freedom and the fluidity of yours. How have you made such a team of superstars gel, when I can’t even get Salgado and Wes Brown to spring an offside trap?” he said, as much to his glass of hot chocolate as to anyone else.
Utterly at odds with himself, the PSV boss wiped away a tear before heading to the sofa for this third siesta of the day.
The life-sized, cardboard cut out of Pep Guardiola propped against the door stared in silence.
