Mikel Arteta ‘nervous breakdown’ contrasts with calmness of Carrick | OneFootball

To what extent does a manager’s body language affect the players?

Everyone in football regularly pretends to be a body language expert, able to discern when players are afraid of the ball, identifying slumped shoulders and a sort of metaphysical air of defeat. Or maybe they’ve ‘puffed their chests out, which everyone knows is a sign of confidence. Have you ever done it when you feel confident? I imagine it’d look a bit odd.

You’d probably be right to call bullsh*t on such comments as nothing more than assumptions and guesses passed off as some sort of pseudo psychology.

But regardless of whether you can tell anything about a player from what they’re doing with a specific bit of their body, it’s impossible to believe that how the manager behaves doesn’t have some effect. It’s human nature to recognise and respond to their reactions.

I always thought Sven’s rather urbane pitch-side manner that featured no eyeball-bleeding yelling was rather good and suggested a calmness, often in contrast to the headless chickens on the pitch. Of course he was pilloried in the press for not showing emotion by a sulphurous group of cretins with neanderthal attitudes to everything.

When managers do that ‘more energy’ mime, does it do any good? It seems unlikely, but for a while it was Glenn Hoddle’s only managerial tool. When you see Mikel Arteta on the verge of a nervous breakdown, hyperactively gesturing and holding his head in his hands, this extremely nervous display must affect the team who in turn become more nervous. If he looks like he doesn’t know what to do, can you expect the team to feel in control?

And when Igor Tudor stood in the technical area glowering like an ogre who’s thinking ‘are these people stupid?’, about to explode in anger, I’m sure it didn’t help imbue confidence.

By and large – though there are Antonio Conte-sized exceptions – the best managers keep their emotions in check. If it looks like the manager is nervously pacing around with a look of thunder, it must affect you. Michael Carrick, for example, stands usually quite dispassionately, in contrast to Ruben Amorim who looked somewhere between sick, frustrated and depressed.

On the other hand, Everton seem to respond well to David Moyes’ ‘peering into the bowels of hell’ look, when he seems like a man whose bus has just driven right past the stop. The likes of Pep Guardiola or Alex Ferguson before him were probably so trusted because of their stellar record that however they behave is seen as somehow appropriate; even Pep prancing in his granddad trousers don’t seem to affect them.

Some in the press seem to take offence at managers writing notes mid-match in a spasm of anti-intellect, believing they should be shouting not writing. But then sometimes it does seem a little self-involved, reactive rather than proactive, perhaps especially with Liam Rosenior, who looks more like he’s a student writing notes for a presentation at the next class and as such lacks credibility. It looks impotent and over-studious in the wrong hands, intelligent and thoughtful in the right ones.

Some managers just have a natural air of authority. Hearts manager Derek McInnes is someone who just looks in charge even with his gangster’s tan. You wouldn’t want to go against him, whereas you’d take Rosenior for avocado on toast.

The manager who loses his temper and spends the match raging at everyone, thinking up ever-more-elaborate insults to hurl at people like Neil Warnock seems to sometimes inspire the team to greater heights. After all, something must have persuaded all those teams he managed to promotion.

Maybe it’s all down to authenticity and if you believe the manager is in control in some sense. Warnock must have, while Arteta clearly does not; I have never seen a face that has ‘it’s all going wrong’ tattooed onto it before but it’s written all over his, even when it isn’t but especially when it is. But then Unai Emery is similarly on edge the whole game but doesn’t seem to have the same level of negative energy.

The usually calm manager who explodes at some decision or tackle has the benefit of using unusually vocalised emotion so players know he’s serious, whereas the manager in a constant ‘cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof’ state can’t play that card.

Alternatively, none of it matters and players take no notice whatsoever. It certainly sometimes seems like managers are superfluous to requirements and much of it is just performative.

Some managers don’t project anything, some are stars who are the focus of attention; it all depends on the type you want. Some like to see the manager kick every ball, scream and shout, some would prefer someone more low key whose head isn’t on fire. Others just like a raised eyebrow to express his feelings. Who knows which is best?