Jurgen Klopp is a German football manager with a beard, a university degree and a pair of black-framed spectacles apparently nicked from Michael Caine sometime in the late 1960s. He's 'for' good things like team unity, tactical intelligence and individual expression and 'against' bad things like spending stupid money on flouncing FIFO fuckwits and sending the club busted-arse-broke and back to Division Fuck-Off-Nowhere inside three seasons. He also wins a bunch of stuff - notably taking Borussia Dortmund to two German league titles, a German cup and the finals of the Champions League, up against the dreaded might of the Bayern Munich evil empire - so naturally he's become a big favourite amongst Dortmund fans, as well as a teachers' pet amongst Guardian football writers and SBS pundits for being a right-on uber-hipster zen-master cool-und-groovy-dude. Sort-of the Arsene Wenger of the Bundesliga as this piece in (where else) the Guardian discusses.
The success of the Klopp approach seems to flow on from his policy of creating an environment in which his players can grow, develop their own playing identity and express themselves within the Dortmund ethos. Sort of like a Montessori kindergarten. Which explains why they have to wear hi-vis shirts whenever they're allowed to go down to the park to play.
However, all this high-falutin' touchy-feely humanities-major Klopp-trap is clearly just a front. He is not the Messiah. He is just a very naughty boy. For, as this bit of footage indicates, Klopp's zenmaster facade lasts only as long as it takes (f'rinstance) Napoli to score in an important Champions League tie, when he transforms from Uber-Hipster Football Guru to....
For attempting to shout the fourth official's face off, Klopp copped a two-match sideline ban, which made him fairly cross.
I think something was lost in translation.
Der Doktor ist heraus.
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