Luis de la Fuente: ‘You can show humanity – that’s not a weakness’

Luis de la Fuente is sitting in a small, unremarkable white office on the second floor of a quiet corner of the Spanish Football Federation’s Las Rozas HQ, running through the qualities sought in superstar managers these days. “Obnoxious, rude, disrespectful, arrogant … it seems like the only way they take you into consideration is this thing they call ‘charisma’,” he says. “I don’t know what that is but if you’re those things they say: ‘He’s got charisma!’ Well, then, I don’t want charisma. We’ve shown that being normal can work, too. You don’t have to be winding people up all day.”
His story is a little different, the tale of a man who was 61 when he took over the Spain team, not so much low profile as almost no profile. A former full-back at Athletic Club and Sevilla, described as quiet, discreet, unknown, initially he was a little awkward in public – in conversation, by contrast, he is warm, enthusiastic, enjoyable company, charismatic in fact – and he didn’t have elite experience. His only senior coaching job had been 11 third-tier games a decade earlier. Turns out, it was better that way, Spain’s way.
What he did have was good players, and he knew that better than anyone. Some didn’t know it at all. De la Fuente joined the federation in 2013, integrated into a structure put in place in the late 90s by Iñaki Sáez, and a culture that brought success. “It is not chance but a process going back many years, based around an idea, controlled,” he says. “I’ve been here [nearly] 12 years, Santi [Denia, the under-21 coach who just won the Olympics] a little longer.” The youth coordinators Tito Blanco and Francis Hernández sit working in the office next door.
De la Fuente led Spain to the European title at under-19 and under-21 level, as well as an Olympic silver medal. Like Gareth Southgate and Lionel Scaloni, De la Fuente was promoted from within, a model that works. So were some of his players: five of the European Championship-winning squad this summer won the European under-21s in 2019.
De la Fuente says: “When I was made seleccionador I said that if I had an advantage it was that I knew the players. That allowed us to ‘bet’ on the future. The sad thing is that after the Euros people valued Dani Olmo. Do they not realise who Dani Olmo was four years ago? Or Fabián? Or [Marc] Cucurella? People didn’t know who our players were. That’s the drama. Not for us, but for them … what were you watching?”
The European champions, perhaps the best there have been. An exciting, dynamic team that had, in Lamine Yamal and Nico Williams, symbols of a new Spain – “that strengthens society, culture, and it’s the future,” De la Fuente says – and lined up with 10 outfield players from 10 clubs in the final. One that racked up seven wins out of seven, four World Cup winners defeated (Italy, Germany, France, England), no tournament team ever so dominant, so manifestly superior. And yet theirs was an unexpected success, their participation greeted initially with pessimism, on the outside at least.
“To win every game and against opponents of that magnitude is difficult to imagine, to dream of,” De la Fuente says. “But we’re very simplistic. That phrase people think was invented recently – game by game – is as old as walking forwards and we went one obstacle at a time, in order. We have to take the drama out of the concepts win and lose; sometimes it’s destiny’s whim. But our conviction was we were there to win, to reach our limits.
“When you give yourself entirely, you never fail. I don’t read, I don’t listen, I don’t see. It’s an exercise that gives me mental health, tranquility. Isolation isn’t an act of cowardice or ignorance, no; what doesn’t help me, I don’t need. The bad stuff? You can keep it. Internally, we were convinced. Outside? We couldn’t control it, so it doesn’t matter.”
There was much they could control, an assuredness about the selección that was striking; when England scored in the final, Spain calmly reasserted their authority. “And it was like that against everyone apart from half an hour against Germany,” De la Fuente says. “Italy was a key game. If we had lost, we would have been working against the tide, but that game was … ”
He knocks on the table. “‘Here we are.’ It’s hard to win 4-0 but in terms of morale, we felt [as if we had]. That gave as assurance, strengthened us. With confidence, teams with talent – and this one has talent – grow.
“You can’t expect to compete against Germany, France and England, a great team, and not be taken to the limit. But we always recovered, we were always convinced, knew what we had to do. And it’s easier when you have good players.
“There’s an idea, a technical and tactical approach. But, believe me, above all this is a product of their talent. We wanted to be more versatile, because we knew they could be. To impose would be a mistake and intolerably arrogant, limiting their capacities. ‘Don’t cross, ever.’ ‘My game is go up the wing and cross.’ ‘Yeah, but I don’t want you to.’ The error wouldn’t be his, it would be mine. And faith in young players isn’t an act, it’s a conviction. My formation was at clubs with a culture of bringing players through: Athletic and Sevilla. When you see talent, play them, even if they’re young.”
Young is one thing, 16 another. De la Fuente cracks up. “But Lamine is very good,” he says. How good? “It’s true what I said: that he’s touched by God’s wand,” De la Fuente says, rubbing his thumb and finger together, some indefinable, invisible, ethereal substance there that he can feel somehow. “There are players that are different. I don’t want to get into those comparisons, because I know we’re going to start [that], and they’re different footballers, different eras. But the talent? Pfff … there’s something that sets them apart. The super mega cracks, football geniuses, those who [made] history, all have something. At that young age they all seemed different, older.”
But they are not. Lamine Yamal arrived in Germany with his homework, fourth-year exams to sit. De la Fuente laughs at the idea of him trying to help with his maths – “that’s all he needs” – but there is a pastoral role. Legal limitations, too. “It is important we do our work as educators and developers; there’s no escaping the fact that he was 16, a kid. There are questions of privacy, protection. When the players went out to eat, he couldn’t because he was underage. Someone with responsibility would stay at the hotel, looking after him. There are parental authorisations but, more so, a responsibility to society. The federation’s institutional responsibility goes beyond rights, legal requirements, authorisation, parental consents. So there are some inconveniences to being young – although we would all love to take a few years off.”
That human dimension, guidance, is vital, De la Fuente says; it is also something shared, three discernible and different leaders emerging within the squad. There is Dani Carvajal, a competitive leader; Rodri, a footballing leader; and Álvaro Morata, an unusual, almost gentle kind of captain, no classic leader. His ascendancy comes from a place of empathy, kindness, an apparent vulnerability even, and De la Fuente’s loyalty towards him has been fierce. Morata admitted he had only made the European Championship after talking to Andrés Iniesta and Bojan Krkic, former internationals who had mental health issues, and Morata’s willingness to externalise his emotional and psychological difficulties gives strength to others too.
“He can appear fragile because of the things he’s said but he’s a tough man,” De la Fuente says. “He is strong because he’s had to overcome things others would not have been able to. There’s a contradiction in talking about his ‘fragility’ because you need energy and strength to face that. Someone who is capable of overcoming extreme situations, facing breaking points – one day maybe he’ll explain what he’s been through, that’s up to him – shows great strength.
“I was aware of what he was going through and that united us: we’re very close. It goes beyond coach-player; you feel empathy for someone fighting things that are very difficult. Footballers have moments when they need support, when you say: ‘I’m here for you.’ And [his approach] allows others in the group to take strength as well: ‘Me too.’ We need to normalise, humanise sportspeople. It’s like that charisma thing: that to be ‘charismatic’ you have to be altivo, proud, arrogant, ‘I’m the strong man here.’ No. You can show humanity. That’s not a weakness.”
As for Rodri, he’s a coach? “Yes,” De la Fuente says, smiling. “That position is always key. With Rodri and [Martín] Zubimendi, I have the good fortune to have the two best central midfielders in the world. Rodri’s a computer.”
And a Ballon d’Or winner? “Both Rodri and Dani Carvajal have without doubt earned the right. If after everything they have done they’re not considered, it would be a huge injustice. They’ve done more than enough. Not just now but everything. Look at Dani: six Champions Leagues?! What on earth is that? Rodri has a Champions League, more to come, and I don’t know how many leagues. They’re European champions. Do they deserve to win it? Of course. I’m championing them, asking for it for them. They’ve won it all.”
And they’re not stopping now, De la Fuente says. On Thursday, the European champions begin their defence of the Nations League against Serbia in Belgrade when surely they should still be on a beach in Ibiza, medals round their necks. “Far from it. This generation of players are insatiable. We want to keep breaking records, take another step, another game more, another game more …”
That historic run comes to mind: 2008, 2010, 2012. “That’s very hard, but …” De la Fuente says. “We don’t see that legacy as a weight, we won’t allow it to be a problem. We won a Nations League. We won a Euros. Now we’re going for another Nations League. Then we will try the World Cup. Some genius said the Nations League is a minor trophy but it’s the best 16 teams in Europe: some minor trophy! To qualify it’s harder than the Euros. But we will go to win, like we always do.”