An open letter to the Charlatan

Dear Michael,

I am writing these words to you, which I know you will probably never read, to express some my feelings (I'm am sure shared by a lot of my fellow citizens) about our National Team. These words could be anything between fun and disgust, because following the WC 2014 dark age, very rarely has our beloved team suffered so many ridiculous "performances" than under your rule.

Far be it from me to pretend to do like the perfidious Cicero trying to assassinate with his pen the Divine Mark-Antony in his Philippicae. But more than ever, in my humble level, I will never stop denouncing you.

We can never forget the punishments, the humiliation, or the horrible horror shows you imposed us to. The last game against Finland was probably the climax, the quintessence of your incompetence. Under your rule, our beloved Ethniki don't deserve our support or encouragement but they don't need our boo’s or insults. Maybe just our silent anger, and disdain. By an hot autumn night, somewhere in the Nordic lands, our national team became the laughingstock of her own fans.

I couldn't even tell you what your performance was, as much as any of your decisions seem devoid of any game plan or tactics. For the first time in almost 20 years, we have a very talented players generation in stock. But for too long, you have ignored them. Moping yourself in your stagnant management worthy of the 70's East-Germany bureaucracy. We also will never forget your over reliance for players that have underperformed for many years. The Tziolis’, the Tzavellas, the Karnezis. These average players who know under you, they could be here even after a global pandemic is the best way to ruin the young generation's morale.

Dear Michael, please be aware that, as we say in French, the facts are stubborn. Meanwhile, we probably have the best generation since the 2000's, the era of Tsiartas, Nikolaïdis, Machlas, Liberopoulos. An era that would probably give you allergy, that's how much you that hate football.

When you arrived here, some lazy journalists dared to introduced you as the New Rehhagel. But you have nothing in common with him, just your citizenship. King Otto gave us what you couldn't even touch: a Title. A Crown. A moment of National Pride. But you, who has a golden generation at your disposal. Pelkas, Fortounis, Tsimikas, Galanopoulos, Donis, I could go on, continue to follow your horrible tactics and submit to your cronyism and continue listening to you and suffer. Oh, sure, a lot of them need a kick in the butt, but that won't come from you. You prefer to reduce, to belittle, to snub. And the last example of your mentality was this grim game in Finland, when you quoted them as favourites. Like a trader sitting on his leather chair consulting the stock market, you remain totally unable to build anything with this all-talented squad.

While for millenaries, the Man desperately looking for the formula that would turn water into wine you did nothing but turn gold into shit. Some kind of Nicolas Flamel fond of scatology. You had the chance to succeed, or at least save what could have been. Your crook tone, your 1940's brothel seducer's face could still have reminded us of the nice mobster coming from a Noir Movie that we are seemingly happy to be scammed by.

Something essential is missing in you. Something that Rehhagel had. The Boldness. An unknown word that is the mark of Football’s great names. And still, you continued in this way, convinced by your destiny. And that is your unforgivable mistake. You aren't in charge of a second-class German or Turkish club, it is the Greece National Team. Our Ethniki Omada. The whole soul of People. The one that for some are ready to spend their last money to see.

You failed and today, with no hate but bitterness, mainly for your personal pride, your small results will give you the chance to find another pigeon. With some of your new journalists friends, you will be paid to appear on TV to try to convince yourself it wasn't your fault at the end. By decency, don't try to take credit from the small success of the 2018 WC qualifiers. Any average Super League coach would have done the same. Maybe even better. Your horrible result against Estonia in October 2017 definitely took away the chance we had to reach the holy Grail.

By these few lines, I say goodbye. Or rather farewell!

We won't miss your deficiencies, your mediocrity. Whatever happens, we will always blame you. Because of your failures, because of your lack of work, because of your undue duty. You thought you could match King Otto. You will fall in the obloquy as Ranieri.

That will be how we will remember you. And that is your terrifying legacy. The job was probably too large for you. As we say in French, you tried to fart higher than your IQ. But holy hell! You gave us nothing but bad smells…

By Alain Anastasakis for Hellas Football.