There’s an unmistakable buzz in the air around Jürgen Klopp. His enthusiasm for the game of football remains as potent as ever, and he is eager to engage with extraordinary football talent. Unsurprisingly, Klopp’s new role will be leading the Red Bull’s global football operations. This stands out when compared to his usual statements.
The joint announcement made by Klopp and the company famous for its intensely sweet energy drink on Wednesday morning maintains an image of sincerity. The new role promises excitement, passion and a profound connection. One might even envision Klopp igniting the corporate boardroom with his spirited pep talks, becoming the star of a thriving crowd of ecstatic data scientists, or energising an online meeting with his trademark fist pumps.
However, the reality might be more down-to-earth. Much of the immediate reaction to Klopp’s decision suggested this move as an organic transition back into management: either with one of the Red Bull teams or even as the manager of the German national team, a role that Klopp is allegedly free to assume should the opportunity present itself. If that was his intended goal, this seems a rather eccentric route to take.
Julian Nagelsmann currently occupies the national team position and seems willing to remain at the helm at least until the 2026 World Cup, if not longer. Alternatively, despite the struggles of Pepijn Lijnders at RB Salzburg, it’s hard to envisage Klopp willingly stepping into his former assistant’s shoes. The possibility exists that the Leipzig job may become available, but given his pick of the world’s football institutions, why narrow his options?
This move appears more like an open exploration when Klopp himself might still be uncertain about his next professional step. Despite the grand job title, the actual duties associated with the role remain comfortingly ambiguous. “My aim is to see, feel and understand what can benefit football,” Klopp conveyed. “I want to contribute to football’s evolution as well.” As a profound mission statement, it lacks the punch of his “Turning sceptics into believers,” but it’s still unmistakably Klopp.
Klopp’s decision to accept the position is seen as his opportunity to “start anew” and indulge in the intellectual side of football, free from the enslavement of league standings and the insistence of regular on-camera explanations. This situation could either lead to a redesigned coaching path with Klopp 4.0 possessing a series of innovative tactics, or it could represent his initiation into an extended period in the generally frowned upon domain of football management, regularly creating unusual biannual suggestions, a strategy currently referred to as the “pivot to Wenger”.
This however, only clarifies the football-related reasoning. But there are additional elements to this verdict that became overwhelmingly apparent when the news broke out. Among fans of Borussia Dortmund, there is outrage at the likelihood of their celebrated coach collaborating with what they see as their ideological foes, just over a month after his poignant return to the Signal Iduna Park dugout to honour Lukasz Piszczek and Jakub Blaszczykowski in a testimonial.
Liverpool fans, comforted by initial reports that Klopp intended to take a break from football for at least a year, are notably unsettled by how swiftly he appears to have moved forward. Supporters of Liverpool’s competition are somewhat spitefully elated, viewing Klopp’s acceptance of the contentious energy drink capital as a massive blunder. They see it as an act of glaring hypocrisy, and a revelation of Klopp as one of English football’s most deceitful saviours.
Not all these interpretations are worth serious consideration. There are true damaging aspects in football and, while the Red Bull model is slightly cheap and clichéd, it barely merits concern. Most importantly, much of the disappointment – and schadenfreude – mistakenly engages more with Klopp’s caricature than his true persona, confusing sporting nobility with the real deal.
If you spend even a mere five minutes flipping through German television channels, you’re bound to spot Jurgen Klopp endorsing a sundry of products, everything from beers and Peloton bikes, to investment propositions. This quite eloquently illustrates his stance towards capitalism. It’s a notion far removed from the illusion some had woven about him being an adversary of corporate culture, a millionaire in sportswear who spent close to a decade in the employ of American financiers. However, Klopp neither desired nor obliged himself to the messiah-like or ethical guide role. And he made this abundantly clear at his inaugural press conference as Liverpool’s manager. In his words, “If you want to perceive me as a saviour one day and then claim ‘no, he cannot perform miracles’ the next day, then we’re in a quandary.”
Perhaps the actual predicament lies in the inclination of English football to elevate its coaches to unmerited moral altitudes, even bestow them with a godlike reverence based on the most meagre justification. Arsène Wenger and early Pep Guardiola unmistakably fit this mould. The adulation Marcelo Bielsa receives, who is lauded as some sort of profound public scholar by those who have never truly known one, despite his repeated disapproval of such treatment, is another prime example. Even mediocrely skilled Ange Postecoglou seems to have accrued a substantial cult-like fanbase, drawn by his outsider standing, his pop-philosophy, and his unquestionable affability.
Klopp, on the other hand, has been too absorbed by his faith in a literal deity that the thought of considering himself as one never crossed his mind. He may be erroneously undervaluing the adoration he kindles and the extent to which people need him to exemplify something greater. But he’s not that individual. In actuality, no one is; no one ever was. Klopp is not affiliating himself with Red Bull with some divine mission in mind. However, he may, in some gradational essence, have triggered a paradigm shift in English football, dispelling its misguided God Complex. — Guardian