Man from land of Orange to restore order

SOCCER ANGLES:Gus Hiddink is said by Mark Viduka to have the rare ability to get players to be 100 per cent willing to go out and die for the team. Chelsea hope he's right.

 "OKAY!" SNAPPED Guus Hiddink, "but move! Follow me!" So I did. I stood to attention and then began to march after Hiddink, who was already disappearing through flashbulbs and the throng, around a corner and into a concrete underground car park. There he was guided to the lift by nervous men with earpieces and matching suits. It was like a scene from 24.

Into the lift, Guus, two suits and myself, and somehow even though it felt underground we were going down. The request had been for a few words post press conference. The hope was they would be better words. "We'll talk down here," Guus said.

And we did. It was not for long and some of it was conducted, as these things are for reporters in a chase, with the interviewee trying to get into his chauffeur-driven car and off into the night. But Hiddink did it, when he did not have to; he was polite if brisk but keen to speak in English. If I'd known then that he was George Best's room-mate for a while at San Jose Earthquakes back in the 70s then the conversation might have been longer and different: Guus, did you never think of managing Glentoran? But Hiddink impressed. He has a high likeability factor as well as a demeanour and record that commands respect. I could return to the pack of colleagues with snippets for another day.

This was May 2002, on the Korean honeymoon island of Jeju. The preliminaries to the World Cup were being conducted and this one involved co-hosts South Korea, managed by Hiddink, against Jeju's temporary residents and quarter-final exit specialists, England.

The score was 1-1 – Michael Owen for the visitors, Park Ji-Sung for the Koreans. You may have missed the details; over on Saipan that day there was a noisy outbreak of Irish foot-shootin'.

England had played reasonably for the first half-hour but it was uninspired launch 'n' leap football from Sven-Goran Eriksson's never-quite-there team. South Korea, meanwhile, were revealing a physical dynamism that would have Italy among others reeling with shock, awe and no little annoyance. It would also have Hiddink thinking.

Of the two managers that night, Hiddink did not seem happier, but he did seem more certain. His comments on England centred on the phrase "long-ball" and were delivered with continental disapproval. "There is not enough variation," he said. "England play the long ball. It's a means to an end. It can be very dangerous but it must not be played for playing sake."

Eriksson agreed. Just not with the same philosophical certainty and almost five years later when it came to replacing the Swede, Hiddink's agent said it was simply not on that Hiddink should be forced to undertake an interview. How could they ask that, these people who employed Eriksson? Typical Dutch arrogance. That was the anticipated accusation and in due course it came. But to dismiss a nation on the basis of one assumed characteristic – while occasionally enjoyable – is not conducive to comprehensive understanding.

Culturally for the Dutch, and Hiddink, the concept of Good Football – worthy of capitals – was and is of daily importance. It was Hiddink's fall-back position in Marseilles in 1998 after Brazil had beaten Holland in the World Cup semi-final.

Brazil, the Dutch noted, had played catenaccio, not their native futebol-arte, and won on penalties. Hiddink said he would have been "ashamed" to play as Brazil did and took pride in Holland's superior artistic ambition. He was not castigated at home for this. That old Dutch arrogance is not based on victory. How could it be? But Hiddink, while imbued with the Dutch belief in attacking purity, has since shown a capacity to absorb other cultural influences. In Holland he is regarded as a more pragmatic coach than a Johann Cruyff or a Louis van Gaal, though not in a dull way.

Hiddink's travels have affected him: the Korean players' extraordinary physical willingness shook him – not like languid Dutch players; he was one once himself – as did the Australian sporting concept of spirit.

That spirit, reorganised by Hiddink, took a patchwork Australia team to the 90th minute against Italy at the last World Cup. It required a dubious penalty to see Italy through in Kaiserslautern. Mark Viduka, who has been around, was to say of Hiddink: "He is the best manager that I've worked with. I've never dealt with a person who has his type of ability to be able to get every single player, even those on the bench, to be 100 per cent willing to go out and die for the team." This is Mark Viduka talking.

There are probably 22 Brazilian players from 2002 prepared to say the same thing about Luiz Felipe Scolari. But not, it transpires, 22 at Chelsea.

In any other week John Terry's words about the disunity within the Chelsea dressingroom would have received even greater prominence. Given this circumstance, Chelsea's season, Scolari's season, has not been too bad. Until the 45th minute at Old Trafford a month ago, it was 0-0 and Chelsea gave as good as they got.

At Anfield three weeks later, Frank Lampard's ridiculous dismissal changed the game. Against Hull last Saturday Terry missed from three yards. True, Chelsea's play had grown pale since the vivid colour displayed in the autumn and though Scolari has delivered an excellent put-down of his inherited squad – "bureaucratic" he called it – he did not explain how Chelsea changed as the leaves fell.

And now Hiddink has inherited Scolari's inheritance. He has begun by talking up his new squad. The rhythm feels as if it has changed already. It will be brisk and who would be surprised if this man from the land of Orange gets Chelsea marching again soon?
"OKAY!" SNAPPED Guus Hiddink, "but move! Follow me!" So I did. I stood to attention and then began to march after Hiddink, who was already disappearing through flashbulbs and the throng, around a corner and into a concrete underground car park. There he was guided to the lift by nervous men with earpieces and matching suits. It was like a scene from 24.

Into the lift, Guus, two suits and myself, and somehow even though it felt underground we were going down. The request had been for a few words post press conference. The hope was they would be better words. "We'll talk down here," Guus said.

And we did. It was not for long and some of it was conducted, as these things are for reporters in a chase, with the interviewee trying to get into his chauffeur-driven car and off into the night. But Hiddink did it, when he did not have to; he was polite if brisk but keen to speak in English. If I'd known then that he was George Best's room-mate for a while at San Jose Earthquakes back in the 70s then the conversation might have been longer and different: Guus, did you never think of managing Glentoran? But Hiddink impressed. He has a high likeability factor as well as a demeanour and record that commands respect. I could return to the pack of colleagues with snippets for another day.

This was May 2002, on the Korean honeymoon island of Jeju. The preliminaries to the World Cup were being conducted and this one involved co-hosts South Korea, managed by Hiddink, against Jeju's temporary residents and quarter-final exit specialists, England.

The score was 1-1 – Michael Owen for the visitors, Park Ji-Sung for the Koreans. You may have missed the details; over on Saipan that day there was a noisy outbreak of Irish foot-shootin'.

England had played reasonably for the first half-hour but it was uninspired launch 'n' leap football from Sven-Goran Eriksson's never-quite-there team. South Korea, meanwhile, were revealing a physical dynamism that would have Italy among others reeling with shock, awe and no little annoyance. It would also have Hiddink thinking.

Of the two managers that night, Hiddink did not seem happier, but he did seem more certain. His comments on England centred on the phrase "long-ball" and were delivered with continental disapproval. "There is not enough variation," he said. "England play the long ball. It's a means to an end. It can be very dangerous but it must not be played for playing sake."

Eriksson agreed. Just not with the same philosophical certainty and almost five years later when it came to replacing the Swede, Hiddink's agent said it was simply not on that Hiddink should be forced to undertake an interview. How could they ask that, these people who employed Eriksson? Typical Dutch arrogance. That was the anticipated accusation and in due course it came. But to dismiss a nation on the basis of one assumed characteristic – while occasionally enjoyable – is not conducive to comprehensive understanding.

Culturally for the Dutch, and Hiddink, the concept of Good Football – worthy of capitals – was and is of daily importance. It was Hiddink's fall-back position in Marseilles in 1998 after Brazil had beaten Holland in the World Cup semi-final.

Brazil, the Dutch noted, had played catenaccio, not their native futebol-arte, and won on penalties. Hiddink said he would have been "ashamed" to play as Brazil did and took pride in Holland's superior artistic ambition. He was not castigated at home for this. That old Dutch arrogance is not based on victory. How could it be? But Hiddink, while imbued with the Dutch belief in attacking purity, has since shown a capacity to absorb other cultural influences. In Holland he is regarded as a more pragmatic coach than a Johann Cruyff or a Louis van Gaal, though not in a dull way.

Hiddink's travels have affected him: the Korean players' extraordinary physical willingness shook him – not like languid Dutch players; he was one once himself – as did the Australian sporting concept of spirit.

That spirit, reorganised by Hiddink, took a patchwork Australia team to the 90th minute against Italy at the last World Cup. It required a dubious penalty to see Italy through in Kaiserslautern. Mark Viduka, who has been around, was to say of Hiddink: "He is the best manager that I've worked with. I've never dealt with a person who has his type of ability to be able to get every single player, even those on the bench, to be 100 per cent willing to go out and die for the team." This is Mark Viduka talking.

There are probably 22 Brazilian players from 2002 prepared to say the same thing about Luiz Felipe Scolari. But not, it transpires, 22 at Chelsea.

In any other week John Terry's words about the disunity within the Chelsea dressingroom would have received even greater prominence. Given this circumstance, Chelsea's season, Scolari's season, has not been too bad. Until the 45th minute at Old Trafford a month ago, it was 0-0 and Chelsea gave as good as they got.

At Anfield three weeks later, Frank Lampard's ridiculous dismissal changed the game. Against Hull last Saturday Terry missed from three yards. True, Chelsea's play had grown pale since the vivid colour displayed in the autumn and though Scolari has delivered an excellent put-down of his inherited squad – "bureaucratic" he called it – he did not explain how Chelsea changed as the leaves fell.

And now Hiddink has inherited Scolari's inheritance. He has begun by talking up his new squad. The rhythm feels as if it has changed already. It will be brisk and who would be surprised if this man from the land of Orange gets Chelsea marching again soon?

Ferguson not to be sniffed at

ALEX FERGUSON’S response to Scolari’s dismissal was to in part focus on the 24-hour media which now exists. Ferguson’s argument was that Sky TV has upped pressure on other journalists, as has the internet and Radio Five Live.

On Radio Five on Monday night the response of one journalist was to sniff at Ferguson’s comment. He said the pressure has always been there.

Maybe so, but anyone involved in the game’s coverage should be willing to accept that there has never been more of it and that some of it is breathless guff.

Watford's Rodgers thriving

SO CARNLOUGH never made it onto Luiz Felipe Scolari’s CV. A thought early in the week was that if Watford knocked out Chelsea from the FA Cup then manager Brendan Rodgers’ birthplace would get the odd mention.

Rodgers (36) was with Ballymena United before moving to Reading. Injury wrecked his playing career so he took up coaching and prospered at – Chelsea. (Brendan’s son Anton is on their books and has been in Ireland under-15 squads.)

Because of his reputation he is now at Watford being assisted by Frank Lampard Snr.