Archive for the 'Corsa' Category

The national team can only perform at its best if it manages to free itself from the excessive expectations that surround it. When the social environment insists that winning is the only option or that failing to qualify for the World Cup for the third time would be unforgivable, it creates pressure that does not help players perform better; it actually weakens their confidence. The problem is not the absence of great stars, but the way this idea becomes the center of every discussion, as if there were no future without exceptional talents. In the same way, it is useful to talk about the national team without resorting to the usual rhetoric: “there are no champions like in the past,” “these players are not proud to wear the national jersey,” or “they lack character and fall apart at the first difficulty.” Labels like these explain nothing—they are dogmatic, stereotype-based statements that oversimplify reality and prevent us from truly understanding the team’s dynamics and challenges.

To build something solid, the focus needs to shift toward what a group can create through work, trust, and collaboration. Highlighting the collective spirit, valuing the idea that each player also plays for his teammate, relying on tenacity, intensity, and the courage to express one’s own style of play—these are the elements that can turn an ordinary team into a strong one. And if fans, social media, and the press cannot be changed, it becomes even more essential to create an internal environment where the team’s voice matters more than the noise coming from outside.

In this process, each player should ask himself what he can bring from his club to the national team: which qualities, habits, or mentality he can put at the service of the group. It is equally important to consider what one is willing to do for others, what teammates expect, and how players can support one another in difficult moments. These questions help dissolve fears and clarify the contribution of each individual.

A sincere and continuous dialogue with the players is needed—one that acknowledges the burden of expectations and the weight of external judgment. Open conversations about what happens on the pitch, how to deal with difficulties, and how to make mutual requests foster a shared sense of security, which is crucial for strengthening the team’s unity.

When players understand that they do not need to act like solitary heroes but can rely on each other, they unleash energy and qualities that pressure often suppresses. Trust is born from the group, and the group grows stronger by sharing what each person does best, protecting itself from external noise, and abandoning the stereotypes that prevent us from seeing reality as it truly is.

In recent years, a profound shift has become evident in the way football managers experience matches on the touchline. If in the past a coach was expected to be a figure of control, almost detached and measured, today it seems normal to see managers shouting, gesturing, despairing or celebrating as if they were still players on the pitch. It is as though in football, as in many other areas of society, openly displaying every emotion has become a rule, because we now live in an era where expressing what you feel is considered a value, almost a form of necessary authenticity.

But this comes at a cost. It has become clear in the case of Antonio Conte, who, after admitting he had reached his limit, decided to take a week off to spend time with his family. And he is not the only one. There are many examples. Allegri has almost built a persona around his shouting and the dramatic tossing of his jacket. Spalletti came out psychologically drained from his experience with the national team. Guardiola literally clutches his head on the sidelines when his team isn’t performing as he wants, and Mourinho often stages theatrical displays of protest or frustration. These are different ways of expressing the same paradox: a role that demands ever-greater emotional involvement while simultaneously consuming those who live it too intensely.

What’s interesting is that this emotional overflow clashes with what is required of players. They are asked to remain in control, to be aggressive but not impulsive, to forget mistakes immediately, to avoid complaining, to stay focused on the match even when emotions surge. It is curious to demand discipline from those on the pitch while accepting—and sometimes celebrating—the lack of control from those on the bench. It’s as if the manager’s emotional leadership has become a kind of spectacle, a sign of total commitment, but at the same time a contradictory example for those who are expected to follow their instructions.

The feeling is that we are going too far, that this constant intensity is not sustainable. Expressing emotions does not necessarily mean exploding with them, and perhaps true maturity lies in knowing how to manage what you feel, not in showing it always and at all costs. In this sense, Conte’s decision to pause, breathe and regain balance may paradoxically represent the kind of leadership we need today—a leadership that does not burn out, does not exhaust, and that above all sets a good example even off the pitch.

Pep Guardiola has reached 1,000 matches on the bench and is considered — and considers himself — the best football coach. His story began in 2007 when he took charge of Barcelona’s B team, going on to win 12 league titles, 14 national cups, and 3 Champions League trophies.

Below is the psychological approach to the role of coach that I wrote for the book “Palla al centro. La psicologia applicata al calcio.”

A leader can also be recognized by the things he says to his players. When Guardiola coaches a team, he explains: “Let’s hope we make plenty of mistakes right away, so we learn faster.” Not being afraid to make mistakes is the mindset of someone with a winning mentality, because what truly matters is not chasing the perfect performance but how quickly one reacts to mistakes.

Fulfilling this need for improvement through understanding errors has been a cornerstone for Guardiola since he was a player, always searching for ways to make not only himself but also the team better. Relentless in his pursuit of progress, he does not appear arrogant and does not want to seem like someone he is not. His goal is to become the best Pep Guardiola he can be, and from the beginning he has aimed to improve his understanding of team chemistry.

To achieve this, he built his playing philosophy on Johan Cruyff’s ideas. He has often stated that Cruyff was his greatest idol and mentor, aware of the need for possession — both recovering and maintaining it — two principles that form the foundation of his playing philosophy. Moreover, he centered his work on the importance of strong values to transmit to the team: sacrifice, responsibility, respect, honesty, and teamwork. Confirming this, when he began coaching Barcelona, he opened his first training session by saying that coaching Barcelona was an absolute honor, but immediately after he spoke of the need to restore order and discipline and to be more professional. He himself is the first to set this example: it’s no coincidence he arrives first at training and leaves last.

Internal communication serves the players’ needs, and he regularly consults with his staff.

He spends a lot of time meticulously studying the opponent: “All I do is watch footage of our opponents and then try to figure out how to dismantle them.” This proactivity drives Guardiola to know not only his own team but also his rivals. As a result, every player must be prepared to feel constantly observed. At that time, at Barcelona, Deco and Ronaldinho did not share this attitude and were sacrificed for the good of the team. His approach to football at Barcelona is well expressed by these words:

“I don’t want everyone trying to dribble like Leo Messi; you need to pass the ball, pass it and pass it again… Pass, move well, pass once more, pass, pass, and pass… I want every move to be intelligent, every pass precise — that is how we make the difference from other teams. That’s all I want to see.”

The so-called us-against-the-world mentality is a psychological attitude often adopted by charismatic coaches such as Antonio Conte. It consists of perceiving — or making others perceive — that both the coach and the team are under siege: from the media, opponents, or even the club itself. It’s a motivational strategy based on the idea that, by feeling threatened, a group strengthens its identity and its desire to fight back. In this dynamic, the coach becomes the leader who shields the team from a hostile “outside world.”

Feeling surrounded can generate extraordinary strength: it pushes people to exceed their limits, to work harder, and to put aside individual egos for a common goal. Many managers deliberately cultivate the idea of an external enemy to maintain focus and build a “us against everyone” mentality that reinforces unity.

However, this vision of football differs profoundly from the one that sees the game as a shared project, built on collaboration, mutual trust, and collective growth. The us-against-the-world mentality thrives on conflict and reaction, while football as a shared project is based on construction and long-term development. In the first case, energy comes from defense; in the second, from participation.

The danger is that the obsession with external enemies may reduce a team’s ability to build a positive and lasting identity — one grounded in ideas, style of play, and a broader sense of belonging. The cohesion born from feeling besieged is strong but fragile: it depends on opposition. The one built through sharing grows more slowly, but it is far more stable. It’s no coincidence that Conte — though often successful — tends to stay only a short time in the clubs he manages: the tension that fuels his method eventually becomes unsustainable. It’s a powerful approach that produces immediate results, but rarely long-term harmony or continuity.