Culture
Seven goals, several outbursts and one odd artwork: Mourinho's Fenerbahce debut
It’s the day before his first competitive game as Fenerbahce manager and Jose Mourinho has been accosted.
He is heading away from his pre-match press conference for the Champions League second-round qualifier against Lugano of Switzerland when he’s stopped by a man named Kai, a technician with the local media. Kai presents him with a large piece of art, depicting Mourinho with his two children. From the look of his hair in the picture, it’s based on an image that is probably at least 15 years old.
Mourinho looks slightly baffled at first, joking that he thought Kai, with his big mass of curly hair “was (Marc) Cucurella”. But he does actually seem relatively touched (well: half touched, half amused) and gets someone else to take a picture of him and Kai holding the art.
“He’s the Special One!” says Kai afterwards, and he genuinely did say that. “Usually you can’t get near someone like him, so I just wanted to show him he’s appreciated and give him some of my art.”
The Athletic regrets to inform you that Mourinho didn’t actually take the piece with him. There’s a brief conversation about framing it, but Kai goes back to his work with the art under his arm. I hope he gets it to him somehow.
Jose Mourinho and Kai, with his piece of artwork (Nick Miller/The Athletic)
If nothing else, this illustrates that Mourinho still engenders a peculiar brand of fascination. You can say you don’t if you like, but you did click on this article. You must be keen to find out something about him, even if you think you’re rubbernecking at the wreckage of a once great career. He is still compelling, sometimes in a grim way, sometimes through flashes of the old Jose, the occasional flicker of a fading sun.
The classic perception of Turkish football is that it is a pseudo retirement home, a place for players who aren’t quite up to the top leagues anymore. It is a little unfair, but there is some truth to it.
As such, it is easy to think that Mourinho accepting the Fenerbahce role — five months after Roma sacked him — is an admission that he just can’t hack the big jobs anymore. At 61, with a hall-of-fame CV in his past, he has retreated to a relative footballing backwater for the same reason that all those players have.
The other way of looking at it is that it’s incredible he hasn’t managed in Turkey before. This is a footballing country that thrives on chaos and conflict, which fosters paranoia and a sense of injustice that isn’t always pretty to watch but is viscerally thrilling.
Is this part of his decline, or is it where he’s always meant to be?
GO DEEPER
A presidential election, lack of offers but plenty of passion – why Mourinho ended up at Fenerbahce
This is technically the earliest point in a season, by the calendar at least, that Mourinho has taken charge of a competitive game, though he has managed at a similar stage before: his Tottenham Hotspur side played Bulgaria’s Lokomotiv Plovdiv in the Europa League second qualifying round in 2020-21.
Still, rather than feeling self-conscious about a man of his reputation participating at such an early stage, he spun it as a positive. “I don’t like friendlies,” he said the day before the game. “We train to play matches. And tomorrow we have a match.”
Lugano’s 6,300-capacity stadium was deemed unacceptable by UEFA for such an occasion, so the game is held 135 miles away in Thun, just south of Bern. Thun is a delightful, quiet lakeside town. It is the sort of place where a bus driver can stop for a chat with a friend without anyone getting annoyed. Try that sort of thing in London, Rome, Milan or Madrid and see how far it gets you.
The Storkhorn Arena, the venue for this game and home of FC Thun, who play in the Swiss second tier, is a curious place. New, out of town, theoretically picturesque given that it is surrounded by cloud-tipped mountains, but you have to walk around the shopping centre that is part of the same complex to actually see those mountains.
Despite this technically being the home game of the two-legged tie for Lugano, their supporters are massively outnumbered. Two and a half hours before kick-off, a few hundred Fenerbahce fans are already waiting for their team to arrive (although they’re ultimately disappointed: Jose et al are smuggled in via an underground entrance). At one point, a small group wearing the shirts of Galatasaray, Fenerbahce’s fierce rivals, turn up and are initially booed, but then briefly applauded.
Fenerbahce fans gather at Thun’s Storkhorn Arena (Nick Miller/The Athletic)
This early arrival isn’t necessarily an expression of pro-Mourinho enthusiasm: this is just what Fenerbahce fans specifically, and Turkish football fans generally, are like. Still, there is a sense of incredulity that Mourinho is at their club: he is their first manager with a Champions League/European Cup title on his CV since Guus Hiddink in 1990. “It’s an amazing thing for Fenerbahce,” says Okan, one of the fans waiting outside, before offering a warning. “But if he doesn’t win the title, he’ll just end up like all the others.”
Indeed. Mourinho has a tough act to follow. Last season, Fenerbahce won 99 points, the highest total in their history, and it would have been the highest in Turkish Super Lig history had Galatasaray not finished on 102, pipping them to the title. Coach Ismail Kartal might have reasonably expected to get a second crack, but no dice: a week after the season ended, Kartal was shoved out of the back door as Mourinho was welcomed through the front.
Mourinho is here partly as a political pawn, a Hail Mary attempt by club president Ali Koc to finally win a league title. Fenerbahce haven’t been Turkish champions since 2014, the longest dry spell in their history. Koc, from one of the wealthiest families in Turkey, was seen as the man to bring glory back to the Asian side of Istanbul, but his failure to deliver a title could well have seen him voted out at their presidential elections this summer.
Particularly when it was made known that his opponent, former club president Aziz Yildirim, had lined Mourinho up as coach if he won the election. But then, hey presto: Koc, with the help of Hull City owner Acun Ilicali, who is also on the Fenerbahce board, pulled a rabbit from a hat and it emerged that, plot twist, it was he who was talking to Mourinho. A week after Mourinho was unveiled in front of 30,000 fans at Fenerbahce’s Sukru Saracoglu Stadium, Koc was re-elected with 61 per cent of the vote.
When he emerged from the tunnel before the game, Mourinho headed straight to embrace his opposite number, Mattia Croci-Torti.
The Lugano manager is one of Swiss football’s up-and-coming coaches and a lifelong Inter Milan fan, so facing the man who won the treble with them in 2010 carried extra significance. “It will be a source of personal pride to face a coach like him,” Croci-Torti, 42, said before the game, “because it may never happen again.”
Mourinho had some advice for his opposite number Mattia Croci-Torti, the Lugano head coach (Piero Cruciatti/Anadolu via Getty Images)
Those pre-match cordialities were a distant memory when, just before half-time, Fenerbahce were awarded a penalty, which Croci-Torti protested with a little too much vigour for Mourinho’s liking. He stalks up the touchline to remonstrate with his opponent, in the manner of a wise old head telling the hot-headed young thing how one should behave.
“He was like myself when I was younger,” Mourinho says after the game, with a slightly wistful grin. “Speaks too much. Complains too much. It’s the emotion of youth. He was lucky because when I did it, always a red card.”
Before that penalty, Mourinho’s debut hadn’t been going well. Fenerbahce are behind after just four minutes, with some sharp work by Ayman El Wafi putting Lugano in front. On the touchline, Mourinho’s frustration grows — 12 minutes in, his hands are on his hips in the manner of a disappointed mother after Jayden Oosterwolde is dispossessed carelessly; his arms are outstretched after the ball is given away in midfield; he shoots an exasperated glance back to his bench when a corner doesn’t beat the first man.
But it’s all fairly low-energy irritation, more the grumblings of an old man tired of life than the sort of raging against the world we remember from Mourinho of days gone by. Until, that is, Dusan Tadic is fouled inside the box on the stroke of half-time for that penalty. Edin Dzeko converts, but it almost feels like it was Mourinho remonstrating with young Croci-Torti that has lit the spark, rather than simply the goal.
Everything is amped up after the break. Mourinho is much more animated and, after some brilliant footwork by Tadic and a perfectly timed run and finish by Dzeko, they’re ahead. For the rest of the game, they’re much more fluent — more than you might expect from a Jose Mourinho side. There’s a brief scare when Lugano equalise, but the 38-year-old Dzeko completes his hat-trick and substitute Ferdi Kadioglu whips one into the bottom corner. They ultimately win 4-3.
“It was a game with seven goals,” Mourinho said after the game. “People like goals,” he added, and there’s a delicious pause where you think he’s going to say, ‘I don’t care for them quite so much myself…’, but he doesn’t. This is, after all, a man who once described an Arsenal vs Tottenham game that finished 5-4 as a “hockey score”.
Mourinho congratulates Ferdi Kadioglu for scoring Fenerbahce’s fourth goal (Piero Cruciatti/Anadolu via Getty Images)
Mourinho doesn’t quite celebrate these goals with the knee slides or coat-flapping dashes of old, but there was a primal roar, particularly from the last two. There are more glimpses of classic Mourinho in his post-match comments, including a lengthy gripe about the artificial pitch — “Honestly, I don’t understand why UEFA allow Champions League games on a plastic pitch” — about Lugano not returning the ball to Fenerbahce following an injury and, of course, about the referee. Mourinho changes, but at his core, he’s still the same old Jose.
When you think about Mourinho managing in a country that is ranked ninth in UEFA’s league coefficients, it is difficult not to remember the time that he sniffily put down Manuel Pellegrini, saying that if Real Madrid were to fire him he would never have to stoop so low as to manage Malaga, as Pellegrini had.
From that perspective, you could be forgiven for revelling in his perceived fall. You could also be forgiven for wondering why he still bothers. He could happily sit back and enjoy retirement, enjoy his money, enjoy life.
Mourinho in a typically forthright mood at the post-match press conference (Dursun Aydemir/Anadolu via Getty Images)
Fenerbahce offers the things that Mourinho appears to need. It’s a colossal club in a city and a country that thrives on all the things he thrives on. It’s a club that uses conflict as fuel, as does he. Watching him during this game — stalking up and down the touchline, yelling at his players, picking a fight with a manager 20 years his junior who is taking charge of his first Champions League game — you realise why he hasn’t given it up. What would he be without it?
Mourinho and Fenerbahce and Turkish football might be the perfect combination. Or they could be a cocktail that blows up with more force than any of them can cope with. It really could go either way.
Mourinho tends to thrive when his club needs him more than he needs them, or at least when he can realistically perceive that to be true. And Fenerbahce need him.
This game won’t be the start of Mourinho’s most glorious era — his great achievements are almost certainly in the past — but it might be the start of Mourinho’s most ‘Mourinho’ era. You get the feeling this is perfect for him.
It’s going to be worth watching, whatever happens.
(Top photo: Piero Cruciatti/Anadolu via Getty Images)
Culture
6 Poems You Should Know by Heart
Literature
‘Prayer’ (1985) by Galway Kinnell
Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that.
“I typically say Kinnell’s words at the start of my day, as I’m pedaling a traffic-laden path to my office,” says Major Jackson, 57, the author of six books of poetry, including “Razzle Dazzle” (2023). “The poem encourages a calm acceptance of the day’s events but also wants us to embrace the misapprehension and oblivion of life, to avoid probing too deeply for answers to inscrutable questions. I admire what Kinnell does with only 14 words; the repetition of ‘what,’ ‘that’ and ‘is’ would seem to limit the poem’s sentiment but, paradoxically, the poem opens widely to contain all manner of human experience. The three ‘is’es in the middle line give it a symmetry that makes its message feel part of a natural order, and even more convincing. Thanks to the skillful punctuation, pauses and staccato rhythm, a tonal quality of interior reflection emerges. Much like a haiku, it continues after its last words, lingering like the last note played on a piano that slowly fades.”
“Just as I was entering young adulthood, probably slow to claim romantic feelings, a girlfriend copied out a poem by Pablo Neruda and slipped it into an envelope with red lipstick kisses all over it. In turn, I recited this poem. It took me the remainder of that winter to memorize its lines,” says Jackson. “The poem captures the pitch of longing that defines love at its most intense. The speaker in Shakespeare’s most famous sonnet believes the poem creates the beloved, ‘So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, / So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.’ (Sonnet 18). In Rilke’s expressive declarations of yearning, the beloved remains elusive. Wherever the speaker looks or travels, she marks his world by her absence. I find this deeply moving.”
“Clifton faced many obstacles, including cancer, a kidney transplant and the loss of her husband and two of her children. Through it all, she crafted a long career as a pre-eminent American poet,” says Jackson. “Her poem ‘won’t you celebrate with me’ is a war cry, an invitation to share in her victories against life’s persistent challenges. The poem is meaningful to all who have had to stare down death in a hospital or had to bereave the passing of close relations. But, even for those who have yet to mourn life’s vicissitudes, the poem is instructive in cultivating resilience and a persevering attitude. I keep coming back to the image of the speaker’s hands and the spirit of steadying oneself in the face of unspeakable storms. She asks in a perfectly attuned gorgeously metrical line, ‘what did i see to be except myself?’”
‘Sonnet 94’ (1609) by William Shakespeare
They that have power to hurt and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow,
They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces
And husband nature’s riches from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces,
Others but stewards of their excellence.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,
Though to itself it only live and die;
But if that flower with base infection meet,
The basest weed outbraves his dignity.
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
“It’s one of the moments of Western consciousness,” says Frederick Seidel, 90, the author of more than a dozen collections of poetry, including “So What” (2024). “Shakespeare knows and says what he knows.”
“It trombones magnificent, unbearable sorrow,” says Seidel.
“It’s smartass and bitter and bright,” says Seidel.
These interviews have been edited and condensed.
More in Literature
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Culture
Classic and Contemporary Literature From France, Japan, India, the U.K. and Brazil
Literature
FRANCE
According to the writer Leïla Slimani, 44, the author of ‘The Country of Others’ (2020).
Classic
‘Essais de Montaigne’ (‘Essays of Montaigne,’ 1580)
“France is a country of nuance with a love of conversation and freedom and an aversion to fanaticism. It’s also a country built on reflexive subjectivity. Montaigne reveals all that, writing, ‘I am myself the matter of my book.’”
Contemporary
‘La Carte et le Territoire’ (‘The Map and the Territory,’ 2010) by Michel Houellebecq
“Houellebecq describes France as a museum, where landscape turns into décor and where rural areas are emptying out. He shows the gap between the Parisian elite and the rest of the population, which he paints as aging and disoriented by modernity. It’s a melancholic and yet ironic novel about a disenchanted nation.”
JAPAN
According to the writer Yoko Ogawa, 64, the author of ‘The Memory Police’ (1994).
Classic
‘Man’yoshu’ (late eighth century)
“‘Man’yoshu,’ the oldest extant collection of Japanese poetry, reflects a diversity of voices — from emperors to commoners. They bow their heads to the majesty of nature, weep at the loss of loved ones and find pathos in death. The pages pulse with the vitality of successive generations.”
Contemporary
‘Tenohira no Shosetsu’ (‘Palm-of-the-Hand Stories,’ 1923-72) by Yasunari Kawabata
“The essence of Japanese literature might lie in brevity: waka [a classical 31-syllable poetry form], haiku and short stories. There’s a tradition of cherishing words that seem to well up from the depths of the heart, imbued with warmth. Kawabata, too, exudes more charm in his short stories — especially these very short ‘palm-of-the-hand’ stories — than in his full-length novels. Good and evil, beauty and ugliness, love and hate — everything is contained in these modest worlds.”
INDIA
According to Aatish Taseer, 45, a T contributing writer and the author of ‘Stranger to History: A Son’s Journey Through Islamic Lands’ (2009).
Classic
‘The Kumarasambhava’ (‘The Birth of Kumara,’ circa fifth century) by Kalidasa
“This is an epic poem by the greatest of the classical Sanskrit poets and dramatists. The gods are in a pickle. They’re being tormented by a monster, but Shiva, their natural protector, is deep in meditation and cannot be disturbed. Kama, the god of love, armed with his flower bow, is sent down from the heavens to waken Shiva. Never a wise idea! The great god, in his fury, opens his third eye and incinerates Kama. But then, paradoxically, the death of the god of love engenders one of the greatest love stories ever told. In the final canto, Shiva and his wife, the goddess Parvati, have the most electrifying sex for days on end — and, 15 centuries on, in our now censorious time, it still leaves one agog at the sensual wonder that was India.”
Contemporary
‘The Complex’ (2026) by Karan Mahajan
“This state-of-the-nation novel, which was published just last month, captures the squalor and malice of Indian family life. Delhi is both my and Mahajan’s hometown and, in this sprawling homage to India’s capital, we see it on the eve of the economic liberalization of the 1990s, as the old socialist city gives way to a megalopolis of ambition, greed and political cynicism.”
THE UNITED KINGDOM
According to the writer Tessa Hadley, 70, the author of ‘The London Train’ (2011).
Classic
‘Jane Eyre’ (1847) by Charlotte Brontë
“Written almost 200 years ago, it remains an insight into our collective soul — or at least its female part. Somewhere at the heart of us there’s a small girl in a wintry room, curled up in the window seat with a book, watching the lashing rain on the window glass: ‘There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. …’ Jane’s solemnity, her outraged sense of justice, her trials to come, the wild weather outside, her longing for something better, for love in her future: All this speaks, perhaps problematically, to something buried in the foundations of our idea of ourselves.”
Contemporary
‘All That Man Is’ (2016) by David Szalay
“Though he isn’t quite completely British (he’s part Canadian, part Hungarian), Szalay is brilliant at catching certain aspects of British men — aspects that haven’t been written about for a while, now updated for a new era. Funny, exquisitely observed and terrifying, this novel reminds us, too, how absolutely our fate and our identity as a nation belong with the rest of Europe.”
BRAZIL
According to the writer and critic Noemi Jaffe, 64, the author of ‘What Are the Blind Men Dreaming?’ (2016).
Classic
‘Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas’ (‘The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas,’ 1881) by Machado de Assis
“Not only is it experimental in style — very short chapters mixed with long ones; different points of view; narrated by a corpse; metalinguistic — but it also introduces an extremely ironic view of the rising bourgeoisie in Rio de Janeiro at the time, revealing the hypocrisy of slave owners, the falsehood of love affairs and the only true reason for all social relationships: convenience and personal interest. After almost 150 years, it’s still modern, both formally and, unfortunately, also in content.”
Contemporary
‘Onde Pastam os Minotauros’ (‘Where Minotaurs Graze,’ 2023) by Joca Reiners Terron
“The two main characters — Cão and Crente — along with some of their colleagues, plan to escape and set fire to the slaughterhouse where they work under exploitative conditions. The men develop sympathy for the animals they kill, and one of them becomes a sort of philosopher, revealing the sheer nonsense of existence and the injustices of society in the deepest parts of Brazil.”
These interviews have been edited and condensed.
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Culture
6 Myths That Endure
Literature
The Myth of Meeting Oneself
“This is evident in Virgil’s ‘Aeneid’ (circa 30-19 B.C.) when Aeneas witnesses his own heroic actions depicted in murals of the Trojan War in Juno’s temple, and again in Miguel de Cervantes’s ‘Don Quixote’ (1605-15) when Quixote enters a printer’s shop and finds a book that has been published with fake details about his quest even as he’s living it,” says Ben Okri, 67, the author of “The Famished Road” (1991) and “Madame Sosostris and the Festival for the Brokenhearted” (2025). “In both stories, individuals throw themselves into the world and think they encounter objects, personae, obstacles and antagonists, but what they actually encounter is themselves. In our time, where our actions meet us in the echo chamber of social media, the process is magnified and swifter. Now a deed doesn’t even have to take place for it to enter the realm of reality.”
The Myth of Utopia
“I’ve always had trouble with the idea of utopia, feeling it derives its energy more from what it wishes to dismantle than what it wishes to enact,” says the T writer at large Aatish Taseer, 45, the author of “Stranger to History: A Son’s Journey Through Islamic Lands” (2009). “Ram Rajya, or the mythical rule of the hero Ram in the Hindu epic ‘Ramayana’ (seventh century B.C.-third century A.D.), like all visions of perfection, contains a built-in violence.”
The Myth of Invisibility
“Invisibility bears power and powerlessness at the same time,” says Okri. “In ancient cultures, it was a gift of the gods. Jesus, for example, walks unrecognized among his disciples, and in Greek myths, Scandinavian legends and ancient African tales, heroes are gifted invisibility in the form of cloaks, sandals or spells. Modern works like the two ‘Invisible Man’ novels, by H.G. Wells (1897) and Ralph Ellison (1952), and the ‘Harry Potter’ novels (1997-2007) by J.K. Rowling reach back to those ideas. But today, people talk about visibility as the highest form of social agency, while invisibility can render a whole class, race, caste or gender unseen.”
The Myth of Steadiness vs. Speed
“‘The Tortoise and the Hare,’ one of Aesop’s fables (sixth century B.C.), doesn’t necessarily strike a younger person as promising — possibly it has a whiff of morality in it,” says Yiyun Li, 53, the author of “A Thousand Years of Good Prayers” (2005) and “Dear Friend, From My Life I Write to You in Your Life” (2017). “But the longer I live and work, the more I understand that it’s the tortoiseness in a person that carries one along, not the swiftness of the mind and body of the hare.”
The Myth of Magic
“Ancient magical tales like Homer’s ‘Odyssey’ (late eighth to early seventh century B.C.) were allegories of transformation, of secret teachings,” says Okri, “whereas modern forms of magic are narrative devices and tropes of storytelling that continue the child’s wonder of life. I think of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s ‘The Great Gatsby’ (1925), Gabriel García Márquez’s ‘One Hundred Years of Solitude’ (1967) and, again, the ‘Harry Potter’ books. The intuition of magic persists even in these atheistic and science-infested times, where nothing is to be believed if it can’t be subjected to analysis. This is perhaps because the ultimate magic confronts us every day in the mystery of consciousness. That we can see anything is magical; that we experience love is magical; and perhaps the most magical thing of all is the imagination’s unending power to alter the contents and coordinates of reality. It hides tenaciously in the act of reading, which is the most generative act of magic.”
The Myth of the Immortal Soul
“ ‘The soul is birthless and eternal, imperishable and timeless and is not destroyed when the body is destroyed,’ says Krishna in the ‘Bhagavad Gita’ (second century-first century B.C.). This belief in the immortality of the soul — what used to be called Pythagoreanism in ancient Greece — is still the most pervasive myth in India,” says Taseer, “and has more influence over behavior and how one lives one’s life than any other.”
These interviews have been edited and condensed.
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