LARulz
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This is just embarrassing, even by Daily Mail standards
Jose Mourinho’s evening at Wembley on Saturday night... as imagined by Sportsmail's Adam Crafton...
Ah, Wembley. ‘Isn’t it beautiful, Aitor?,’ I say, nudging the Nottingham Forest manager and my former Real Madrid assistant Aitor Karanka. ‘You remember I won here in the FA Cup semi-final against Tottenham in April?’
Aitor nods. ‘But you did lose here, Jose, in the final against Chelsea. And against Tottenham in January.’
It is too early in the evening to invoke Friedrich Hegel so I grunt and shrug. Anyway, as Aitor knows all too well, Jose only wins, it’s the players who lose
The players are walking out. Three Lions are marked out on the pitch before the game. Must be for Jose’s three (Yes, THREE) Premier Leagues at Chelsea? Or maybe Manchester United’s famous treble? Not 1999. No, no, no. The famous 2017, when I - OK, we - lifted the Community Shield, Carabao Cup and Europa League. I stand up, pirouette and present three fingers to the directors box. Jose is special.
Zlatan texts: ‘Watching England. Three Lions? I am the one true lion.’
The game starts. Look at all of Jose’s boys out there! Luke Shaw, Marcus Rashford, Jesse Lingard, David De Gea. And do not forget how I developed Sergio Ramos at Real Madrid.
I brim with pride. ‘Ah, Aitor, those glory days in training where Sergio and Pepe practised their WWE takedowns.’ Aitor giggles and we watch the YouTube clip of Ramos taking out Mo Salah.
Talking of defenders, my phone bleeps. The number is unknown. ‘Boss, it’s Eric Bailly. The one United centre-half most people consider half-decent. You played Ander Herrera ahead of me at centre-half against Tottenham and then Victor Lindelof (!!) at Burnley. Please call.’ I email our tech department and ask to block the number.
Anyway, three of my creations combine for England’s opener. Shaw raids down the left. Brilliant cross and Rashford’s finish goes through De Gea. I know the television cameras will be on me, so I purse my lips and nod. 1-0 to Jose!
Ashley Young, who has lost his place to Luke Shaw for England and United, texts. ‘Boss, you did see my goal in the charity game in Scotland today, didn’t you?’ I respond with an eye-roll emoji.
Sir Trevor Brooking is sat to my right. He keeps moving to say something but then pulls away. Finally he goes for it. ‘Why... don’t you play Rashford a bit more, Jose?’
Harrumph. Here we go. I take out my printed excel spreadsheet. ‘Right, look here,’ I say, pointing at the page. ‘Last season, Marcus played 35 games in the Premier League.’
Aitor interrupts. ‘Yes, Jose, but the spreadsheet also says 18 of those were as a substitute and in ten of the 17 games he started, you took him off. As Hegel says, the truth, Jose, is in the whole.’
Trevor stays silent but smirks. Rashford is actually quite good tonight. Better than Harry Kane in those silly golden boots. Rashy should score again, but De Gea denies him with a brilliant save from a header. Then late on he dances past three players and De Gea saves again. Rashford is playing with a smile and is not head-butting anyone this week. The mischief-makers in the press will credit Southgate but really, he is playing well because he knows I am here supporting him.
I text Marcus, suggesting he thanks me afterwards for my tough love and guidance. It’s the least he can do
Spain equalise. Phone bleeps. It’s Ed Woodward. He calls me ‘Mou’, like he used to call Wayne Rooney ‘Wazza.’ We aren’t sure why. Anyway. He says he saw me on the telly. He asks if I saw the mistake Harry Maguire made for the Spain equaliser. ‘Do you see now why I would not pay £80m to buy him from Leicester?’ Woodward adds a smug-face emoji.
I forward it to my agent, Jorge Mendes. ‘How much will it cost us to hire another plane banner about Woodward, Jorge?’
Another bleep. Jose is popular. It’s Mario, my concierge at the Lowry Hotel in Manchester. ‘Jose, I have fixed the television screen. We have also cancelled the Amazon Prime account after the incident while you were watching the Manchester City documentary. This is your final warning.’
Second-half now and Luke Shaw has taken a mighty blow to the head. He’s down for a few minutes. The boy has no luck. Jose has no luck. I send a text message. ‘Ashley, I saw your goal in the friendly. Great to have you raring to go. I believe in you.’
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https://www.dailymail.co.uk/sport/f...agines-going-Jose-Mourinhos-mind-Wembley.html