Chapter 92: Inviting Pirri

"You have to believe me, I'm not just flattering you. I genuinely think your evaluations are incredibly accurate. Take Anelka, for example—his talent and ability are undeniable. Even if he changes teams every year, he will still perform well, score plenty of goals, and receive widespread praise… But his personality is a disaster. Sure, he's professional, with no off-field controversies, but he's too introverted—so much so that no one can truly connect with him. And his two idiot brothers keep pushing him to transfer. He's a financial success, making a fortune from every move, but he'll never be a great footballer. Constantly drifting from club to club will prevent him from achieving any real honors. Football, after all, is not a one-man sport."

"You think so too?" Pirri's eyes lit up with excitement.

Ever since the infamous Pirri Report was exposed, he had faced widespread ridicule. Even Real Madrid fans mocked him. They believed Geremi was a solid addition to the squad, that McManaman—who had scored in the Champions League final—was a perfect fit, especially since he arrived on a free transfer. Morientes had also netted in that final, while Anelka had been a flop for an entire season. And yet, Pirri had dared to claim that Anelka was outstanding…

But now, José was saying that his analysis was spot-on!

For a moment, Pirri even suspected that José was mocking him. But as he listened closely, he realized José was completely serious—there was no hint of sarcasm in his tone.

"Take McManaman, for example. He was great for Madrid last season, but no matter what, an Englishman's technical ability won't give him an advantage in Spain. Sure, he's a skillful player by English standards, but he doesn't have a real edge here. His success last season was largely due to Redondo's support. Now that Figo is joining and Redondo is leaving, McManaman's performances will take a huge hit. As for Morientes, he's an excellent striker, but his body is fragile, and his confidence has been steadily declining. He might shine for a while, but as long as his physical condition remains unreliable, his peak moments will become increasingly rare."

José continued analyzing Madrid's players, even those Pirri hadn't evaluated in his report.

Savio: A brilliant winger, but Roberto Carlos' presence will limit his space, making it harder for him to perform well.Solari: Likely to become a super-sub.Makélélé: Madrid's backbone. Without Redondo, Makélélé's defensive skills will be irreplaceable.Salgado: If he can maintain his form, great. But if he declines or gets injured, he'll deteriorate quickly.Helguera: Needs to decide if he's a defensive midfielder or a center-back; otherwise, his future will be uncertain.Figo: Outstanding—he will live up to his price tag.

José wasn't just speaking off the cuff. His insights were based on both his observations and the players' future performances. His words hit the mark, leaving Pirri increasingly astonished. Their perspectives aligned on most points, with only minor disagreements.

"I agree with almost everything you said." Pirri shook his head. "But you rate Makélélé too highly. Yes, he's a great defensive midfielder, and his game is all about intelligence rather than brute force. But players like him are just workhorses, not true stars."

"You underestimate Makélélé. If it weren't for the fact that we couldn't compete with Madrid and that I wasn't yet a Mallorca shareholder at the time, I would've done everything to sign him. He may not be as complete as Redondo, but in some ways, he's even better. If I had a player like him in my squad, the impact on the team would be immeasurable," José countered.

In Spain, this viewpoint was rare. Most La Liga clubs prioritized attacking football over defense, which explained Spain's struggles in international tournaments. Throughout the 90s, the country had only produced one truly reliable center-back—Miguel Ángel Nadal. Even Hierro had originally played as an attacking midfielder before transitioning to defensive midfield and then to center-back. It was no surprise that Hierro, as a defender, had once been Spain's all-time top scorer.

Pirri, unconvinced, shook his head. But José didn't press the issue and instead shifted the conversation back to player evaluations.

The discussion excited Pirri. Being temporarily out of work, he rarely had the chance to talk football in such depth. His initial indifference had disappeared—he was now fully engaged, enjoying the rare opportunity to converse with someone who shared his views.

Before they knew it, night had fallen. Several cups of coffee had been consumed, and Pirri, far from fatigued, was more energized than ever. The stark contrast from his initial detached demeanor was striking.

"Wow, it's gotten so late. I'm sorry for keeping you up," José remarked after glancing out the window.

Pirri chuckled. "No worries. At my age, I don't need much sleep anyway… Besides, chatting with you has been a real pleasure. Plenty of people share my opinions, but few are willing to sit down and discuss them with an old man like me."

José smiled. If Pirri were still Madrid's technical director, he certainly wouldn't have been so open. Some of José's insights into players and tactics were not things he would easily share otherwise.

"Actually, there's another reason I came today," José continued after clearing his throat.

"You're here about Eto'o, right? He doesn't have an agent yet—I can help you reach out to him. Poor kid, he got caught in the crossfire because of me. But leaving Madrid might be the best thing for him—better than wasting away on the bench. There are so many talented youngsters in Madrid's youth system, but how many of them actually make it into the first team? The 'Quinta del Buitre' era is unlikely to happen again…"

Pirri sighed regretfully. With modern football's increasing player mobility, it was rare for a club to promote five youth players simultaneously and have them all become icons. Apart from Madrid's legendary "Quinta del Buitre" and Manchester United's "Class of '92," few teams had ever achieved such a feat. Barcelona had once tried to market their own "Five Tigers" as rivals to Madrid's legends, but their impatience and the players' underwhelming performances doomed the project. The only one to make a real name for himself was Iván de la Peña—ironically, at Espanyol, Barca's local rivals.

"This is about more than just Eto'o," José corrected. "There's something else I need your help with."

"What could an unemployed old man like me possibly do for you? I can help with Eto'o, but I don't have the influence to persuade other Madrid players to join Mallorca."

José grinned. "You're wrong, Pirri. You have more influence than you realize…" He leaned in, locking eyes with Pirri. "I want to invite you to join Mallorca. If you accept, you will receive the same salary you had at Madrid. My position as technical director will be yours. You will have full authority over scouting, player evaluations, and recommendations. You'll also oversee all players from the first team to the youth squads. In short, whatever power you had at Madrid, I will give you. And anything you didn't have but need, I'll give you that too!"

Pirri was stunned.

Even though he had a strong reputation in Spanish football, no club had been willing to hire him as a technical director since the Pirri Report scandal. Coaches and players alike had been wary of his brutally honest assessments.

But José didn't care. He was the head coach—he knew what advice to take and what to ignore. More importantly, as time passed, Pirri's evaluations would be proven correct. Once that happened, players would shift from rejecting him to respecting him. His insights could even help players refine their game.

José was willing to take the risk. If Pirri joined, his workload would be cut in half. A rising club like Mallorca needed all kinds of talent—not just great players and coaches, but also scouts and analysts. If Pirri managed the scouting system, Mallorca would become much stronger.

Now, it was up to Pirri to decide.