Chapter 223: A Veteran’s Dilemma and a Coach’s Vision

The sky had already darkened, but José was still in his office, watching old match footage of Albertini. When Albertini first emerged as a player, he played as an attacking midfielder. He possessed excellent ball control, pinpoint passing accuracy—whether it was a short ten-meter pass or a long thirty-meter delivery—and a superb free-kick technique. Back when the "falling leaf" free kick was still considered an exclusive skill of South American players, Albertini was the first to master it proficiently and apply it in matches.

During the mid-90s, he was one of the "Four Midfield Geniuses," along with Redondo of Real Madrid, Guardiola of Barcelona, and Paulo Sousa, who played for both Juventus and Borussia Dortmund. He was one of the brightest stars in an era overflowing with elite midfielders. Except for failing to achieve any major honors with the national team, Albertini had won almost everything at AC Milan—five Serie A titles, one Champions League title, three Coppa Italia titles, and two UEFA Super Cups. He was a player who had essentially completed football's grand slam of achievements.

Even though he was now 31 years old, his form hadn't declined much. Last season, he played 24 matches for AC Milan and remained in excellent competitive shape, frequently partnering with Pirlo in midfield. A player of his caliber, reputation, and skill would be an ideal addition to Mallorca, giving the squad a midfield leader that everyone could rally behind. His presence would help stabilize the team's performance.

In football, ability speaks the loudest, but reputation also holds significant weight—especially for Mallorca in their current situation. The team already had several high-profile midfielders. Even if Xabi Alonso was no less talented than Motta, throwing a young newcomer straight into the starting lineup might not command enough authority. Albertini, on the other hand, was different. Even Mallorca's biggest star, Ronaldinho, was just a junior compared to him. Making Albertini the core of the midfield would earn the trust of the entire squad and reduce unnecessary friction within the team.

José knew that Albertini's struggles were more psychological than physical. Albertini was someone who genuinely enjoyed mentoring younger players—otherwise, he wouldn't have helped Pirlo adapt to a deep-lying playmaker role at Milan, even though it posed a direct threat to his own starting position. If he could move past his mental block, his influence, experience, and humility would allow him to integrate into the team quickly.

That was why José needed to talk to Albertini.

He had signed Albertini on loan to fill the gap left by Motta's departure and to provide Xabi Alonso with an experienced mentor, both on and off the pitch. He had no intention of bringing in a dressing-room issue. Albertini wasn't a troublemaker, but if he kept shutting himself off, it would eventually become a problem.

Since arriving in Mallorca, Albertini hadn't rented an apartment; he was staying at a local hotel—ironically, one owned by old Alemani. His wife, Uliana, had stayed behind in Italy to take care of their son, which seemed to confirm that Albertini had no long-term plans to stay in Mallorca.

This made José's visit even easier. Even though it was already quite late, he wasn't worried about interrupting anything "interesting" when he knocked on Albertini's door.

The door opened quickly. When Albertini saw José standing there, he froze for a moment but didn't say anything—he simply stepped aside and let José in.

Albertini was staying in a high-end suite. It wasn't quite a presidential suite, but it had all the necessary comforts. José glanced around and noticed a laptop on the table, its screen displaying a very familiar sight—the game Championship Manager 01/02, released last year.

José smiled slightly. So, the rumors were true—Albertini really was a huge fan of football management games. The latest edition, Championship Manager 02/03, hadn't been released yet.

"I enjoy playing the CM series too," José said as he took a seat. "As someone from the football world, managing your own team in a game is quite an interesting experience."

Albertini smiled as well. What José described was exactly how he played—he only managed AC Milan and the Italian national team. Naturally, he was always a guaranteed starter.

"José, don't tell me you scout players using CM." Albertini joked. He wasn't frustrated with Mallorca or José—his mood had been sour simply because AC Milan had unceremoniously cast him aside.

"No need to call me 'José.' You can call me 'Boss' like the others. Or if you feel that's too weird because of my age, just call me José. The veterans in Mallorca all call me by my name—I don't mind."

José waved his hand dismissively, then shook his head. "Of course, it's not that simple. These games are realistic in many ways, but they're still just games. A player's stats, no matter how accurate, don't guarantee their real-life performance. For example, CM doesn't account for chemistry between teammates. Even amateur players know that coordination can make a huge difference in how a team performs. But that's not something a game can fully simulate. Football is both a simple and complex sport—it's played by real people. Expecting a computer to create a perfectly accurate football world is impossible. That's why scouting the right players requires firsthand observation and a deep understanding of your team's needs. You can't just rely on a game's ratings."

Albertini nodded. José's serious explanation made him feel like he wasn't talking to his new coach but rather chatting about CM with old friends back at Milanello.

That momentary illusion snapped back to reality as José continued speaking.

"A team doesn't succeed just by stacking eleven superstars together. You can have all the talent in the world, but if the team doesn't function as a unit, it won't achieve results. Look at your AC Milan squad in 1996-97—you had Weah, Baggio, and Maldini, all Ballon d'Or winners, plus top players like you, Boban, Savicevic, Desailly, Simeone, Reiziger, and the legendary Baresi at sweeper. Even with all that talent, the season was disappointing. The same thing happened to Inter Milan in 1998-99. They had stars, but they relied too much on Ronaldo. When he was injured, their season collapsed.

"Having stars is important, but making them work together is even more important."

Then, José shifted his tone.

"That's why, when I pick my squad, I don't just look at ability—I consider the impact on the team. Will this player contribute positively or disrupt things? The defensive midfielder, in particular, is crucial. This role is the team's metronome, its lungs, its brain. They initiate attacks and shield the defense. My tactics are inspired by Cruyff's 'Number Four' role at Barcelona, but I've adapted it. My version demands more from the defensive midfielder—pressing, passing, and organizing play without any special privileges.

"Motta executed this role perfectly. He was strong, defensively solid, and active in build-up play. That's why we've been so effective these past seasons. With him gone, I needed a replacement. I found Xabi Alonso. And I found you. You are Mallorca's present; Alonso is Mallorca's future."

Albertini sighed. "What's the point? I'm only here for a year. How much chemistry can I build in that time?"

"You'll build as much as you're willing to," José said firmly. "This team has played with this system for two years now. Our players are used to looking for the defensive midfielder first. If you train hard and communicate with your teammates, you'll pick up their movements quickly. Play a few matches, and the chemistry will come."

José smiled. "Besides, I have a favor to ask. Can you mentor Alonso? His style is more like yours than Motta's—he moves more, has excellent long passing. It's selfish of me, but I hope you can teach him. Of course, this isn't an obligation—just a personal request."

José stood up. "Sorry for barging in so late. Thanks for listening. See you tomorrow."

Albertini watched José leave, then turned back to his laptop screen, lost in thought.