I haven't been writing about sports much lately: in part because I no longer closely follow Vikings, while I dropped Minnesota United and its Antifa crowd completely-- I can't even name three players on the latter's team; but also because the posts don't age well, so rapidly does the sporting landscape morph.
And yet, I've been thinking a lot about this Lazio iteration, which I once described as "my least favorite Lazio team of the Lotito era", and how I've come to peace with them, shortcomings and all-- and maybe that's the problem.
I don't have access to the team, or its players, nor do I have any insider information-- so everything I write is pure conjecture. But, it's conjecture based on materially having watched every minute of every match for years, while following team news on a daily basis during that entire duration. It's also based on my own long-term experiences working in a high-intensity professional environment.
Qualifications given, now starting with Inzaghi: this is a man who was a bit of a joke during his last several years as a player, where despite his obvious talent, was something like fifth striker choice, behind not only Rocchi and Pandev, but also lower than such luminaries as Igli Tare and Stephen Makinwa: Simone barely played, but liked picking up the check so he could enjoy the night life.
Meanwhile, there are three kinds of coaches: the "as soon as the players lose their fear of you, you're done" Helenio Herrera types; the "I can recite the entire history of Ancient Rome in thirty seven different languages" polyglot intellectual kind like Vladimir Petkovic; and the "I pile on at the corner flag with my players when they score, and live every kick", like... Simone Inzaghi.
The upside of this is that the players love him: he's very easy to get along with, players can come to him with their problems-- he's just another one of the gang. And this gang has been together for years: Sergej; Luis Alberto; Patric; Ciro; Acerbi; Strakosha; Lulic; Parolo, and Inzaghi himself.
I've been on teams at work, where a core group had been together for a few years: it transcends "knowing each other's weaknesses"-- in fact, everyone automatically covers for each other, without even needing to discuss or articulate it. It's part and parcel of being intimate, spending huge swathes of your lives together, day in and out.
The nice side of that is comraderie: it's like a little family, and everything settles into a lovely routine, where things go smoothly, everyone mostly just gets along because all of the individual idiosyncrasies have already been acknowledged and settled, and people are relaxed and at ease around each other. And with a coach like Inzaghi, himself part of this tight-knit group, there is little threat of looking over one's shoulder.
Further, there's no real desire for promotions: people are happy-- why not stay put? Guys like Milinkovic-Savic or Luis Alberto could have forced big money moves abroad, but why bother? They own mansions or giant flats in one of the most historical, beautiful cities in the world, kicking a ball around with their best friends every day.
No fear of demotion, and no desire for promotion: happiness! And this Lazio group do seem to me to be very happy. I'm glad for them, and it's hard to find fault with people who love what they do.
The downside-- and this comes from my own professional experiences-- to this kind of chemistry, is that effort levels take a precipitous decline: Lazio's players quite literally acknowledged that they simply threw in the towel on Europa League last season: not only did they not care about the competition, but they didn't mind publicly saying as much!
Well, it appears this season as if they don't care about anything: they frequently look despondent and bored in the league, and they've been scraping by with the most minimal of efforts in Europe, where one centimeter of crossbar separated them from group stage success, and an unceremonious dumping out against a vastly inferior opponent.
It's not that they don't want to do better: just today I read that Luis Alberto led a team meeting to try and get them back on track. But in professional sports, where results come down sometimes to millimeters, or just a couple of two-second incidences during certain matches, the intensity has to be more consistent-- who can know when the pivotal moments will occur?
It doesn't help that Simone Inzaghi is violating one of the key tenets of the "Art of War"-- that of making yourself flexible and unpredictable. He just doesn't strike me as the kind of worker who is going to take sixteen hours per day custom tailoring tactics for each opponent through vigorous film study: it's the same setup, with the same system, with the same strategy every game for four years.
It is possible that they can arise out of this myst: under Inzaghi, a man they trust and love, they never give up, and thanks to Felipe Caicedo often snatch results at the ends of matches-- while in Europe, they battled their socks off during a period when half their squad was absent due to the WuFlu. These examples are very much to their credit.
But more likely, some kind of a jolt will be required: either a relegation battle, Lotito losing patience and pulling the plug on Inzaghi-- and I really hope that doesn't happen-- or a massive roster shakeup, to "reset" the culture. Otherwise, it could wind up being a season mired in mediocrity: like an extended vacation.