Bielsa, Marcelo

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    The Artist Who Painted a City

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    As Jesse Marsch takes over Leeds United, he faces the difficult task of replacing Marcelo Bielsa, who was equal parts coach and icon.Out on the Burley Road, where the last vestiges of the city of Leeds slowly dissolve into the Yorkshire countryside, there is a barn in the middle of a field. It stands there, alone, the size of a garden shed, in a patch of land demarcating the boundary between a pet grooming salon and a dog park.For a long time, it was about as unremarkable as any structure can be. A barn, in a field, in a part of the world where there are a lot of barns and a lot of fields. And then one day, a year ago or so, it changed. One side, the side that faces you as you head down the hill, was suddenly covered with a striking, monochrome mural of Marcelo Bielsa.What caught the eye most, perhaps, was the incongruity between the work and its location. Bielsa’s face, solemn and bespectacled, emerging out of nowhere, watching over all he surveyed — which, in this case, amounted to a succession of dogs at varying stages of cleanliness — gave it the air of a border post, a territorial marker. This field was Bielsa country, it proclaimed.Lee Smith/Action Images Via ReutersIn the days after the curtain was drawn on Bielsa’s three-and-a-half year tenure as manager of Leeds United, the discussion focused — understandably — on the state in which he had left the team. Had the Argentine coach’s famously exacting methods, his ideological intransigence, left the club at genuine risk of relegation? Or was his dismissal a premature reaction to a tough run of games and an ongoing injury crisis that had deprived a small squad of key players?Much more significant, though, was how he had left Leeds the place. It can be easy, at times, to overstate the impact that soccer has on a city, a country, a population as a whole. A team’s success or failure is assumed to have some seismic effect on its home; the sport has sufficient hubris to believe that the mood of millions hinges on its every turn.Bielsa’s impact on Leeds, though, has a physical form. The mural on the Burley Road was not the only piece of urban artwork that has appeared in recent years. There is another portrait of Bielsa in Wortley, close to the club’s Elland Road stadium, in which the Argentine is depicted as Christ the Redeemer.In Headingley — which is a bit like Brooklyn, except it is better, because it has a cricket ground and a Greggs — Bielsa’s image is accompanied by one of his axioms: “A man with new ideas is a madman, until his ideas triumph.” In the city center, there is a vast depiction of Kalvin Phillips, the club’s homegrown idol, around the corner from the Victorian grandeur of the Corn Exchange.And all over the city there are electrical boxes — those grim and gray pieces of street furniture that our eyes erase from our vision — that have been daubed in the club’s colors, blue and white and yellow, and decorated with its slogans and its iconography by the street artist Andy McVeigh.Peter Powell/EPA, via ShutterstockAll of that has happened since Bielsa arrived, since he brought a somnolent club to life, since he imposed order on a decade and a half of chaos. By the standards of modern soccer, where the superclubs weigh their trophies by the ton, Bielsa’s legacy is a thin one. He won promotion from the Championship. He guided Leeds to ninth in the Premier League, and left it fretting over relegation. He did not deliver a litany of medals, an era of glory.What he did was far less tangible, but much more important. He gave Leeds an identity. He did not simply make the fans fall in love with their club again, he gave them something to stand for, to represent, to call their own. He made Leeds an emblem of a style, a belief, an approach. And in doing so, he lifted the place it called home.Often, those sorts of assertions are difficult to prove. Not in this case. Bielsa, in a very real sense, has left Leeds a much more colorful place than he found it.That is not, of course, necessarily ideal for his replacement. Jesse Marsch might have exactly the sort of background that most English clubs now expect — an alumnus of the New York Red Bulls, Red Bull Salzburg and RB Leipzig, steeped in the principles of the German pressing game, de rigueur among the denizens of the Premier League — but he lacks Bielsa’s gravitas, his reputation and, most immediately, his emotional bond with the fans, with the city.Lee Smith/Action Images Via ReutersThat is not the only obstacle in Marsch’s path. Whether there are enough American coaches in European soccer is not, in truth, an especially pressing question: Chances certainly seem to fall more easily to them than they do to, for example, African coaches, or those working outside the bounds of the continent.The challenge, instead, is in the perception. Chris Armas, another graduate of the Red Bull school, was nicknamed “Ted Lasso” within a few weeks of arriving at Manchester United as an assistant to Ralf Rangnick. The same punchline was trending within minutes of Marsch’s appointment at Leeds.Bob Bradley, scarred by his experiences at Swansea City, found it surprising just how much controversy was stirred by his use of certain terms — “P.K.” instead of penalty, say — or his pronunciations: He made a conscious effort to say “defence,” instead of “defence,” and never to refer to the Premier League.Will they paint murals of Jesse Marsch in Leeds?Annegret Hilse/ReutersIf he is to succeed, Marsch will have to overcome that same stigma, to make sure he does not fall into any of the linguistic traps that await him. Even if he does so, he will know, most likely, that he will never inspire the same sort of adoration that was awarded to Bielsa. Bielsa was the man, after all, who took Leeds United home. Marsch will never be able to match that.Perhaps, though, Marsch’s predecessor offers the perfect illustration of the nature of the task at hand. Bielsa’s success was not measured in silver and gold, but painted in blue and yellow and white. His rewards were not prizes, but portraits. He won them because he gave a club, and a city, something to be proud of, something to believe in. He made the place more colorful. Marsch’s task, any manager’s task, is to do the same.The Model OwnerRoman Abramovich in better days for Chelsea, and for him.Matt Dunham/Associated PressRoman Abramovich changed far more than Chelsea. His impact on English — on global — soccer extends way beyond his taking a glamorous pretender and transforming it into the most consistently successful English club of the 21st century. It is not just Stamford Bridge that has lived under the “Roman Empire,” as the Russian flag that adorns the stadium’s Matthew Harding Stand has it, for the last two decades. We all have.It was Abramovich’s arrival, those first few years of apparently bottomless spending, that triggered an inflationary spiral that pushed transfer fees and salaries across Europe ever higher, that winnowed down the number of clubs able to compete first for talent, then for trophies, that pushed some of the old elite into irrelevance and others to the brink of something far worse.It was, in no small part, because of Abramovich that European soccer felt moved to introduce some form of financial fair play legislation. It was, in no small part, because of Abramovich that Chinese conglomerates and Gulf states and all manner of princelings decided soccer was the place to put their money, to service their egos, to launder their reputations.And, most of all, it was Abramovich who provided the model of the ideal owner to fans all over the world. Ever since he appeared, out of nowhere, in 2003, fans of countless clubs have craved the appearance of their own Abramovich, someone possessed of an impossible fortune who appears happy to fritter as much of it away as necessary in the pursuit of success.The pervasiveness of his example is evident in the response to his decision, this week, to put Chelsea up for sale. That Chelsea’s fans regard him as a good owner, a fond memory, a silent idol, is not at all surprising. Look at what he has given them. That those with no attachment to the club persist on giving him the same assessment is astonishing.Yes, Abramovich pumped money in whenever it was required. Yes, he delivered trophies on an industrial scale. Yes, he has turned his club into not just a state-of-the-art superpower, but a vehicle for some admirable charitable initiatives, particularly as regards fighting anti-Semitism and promoting Holocaust education.Toby Melville/ReutersAnd yes, it is possible, if you wish, to ignore the questions that linger over all of it: Why? Why did he do all of that? What was the purpose? Was it really that he fell in love with soccer after watching Ronaldo and Real Madrid destroy Manchester United? Did he just want a shortcut to British high society? Or was it something else? If so, what? Why has all of this happened?But it should not be possible to exclude from discussion of his legacy the manner of his imminent departure. Because of Abramovich, Chelsea may still stand under threat of the impact of the economic sanctions (very and possibly conveniently slowly) being imposed on Russia’s oligarchs by the British government.Because of Abramovich, Chelsea is now in the process of being sold effectively as a distressed asset. He has said he will not “fast-track” the sale, but the fact that his advisers appear to have reached out to whoever they can think of, and set a deadline of only a few days for bids, rather suggests he does not have the months such a process would ordinarily take.Abramovich, make no mistake, does not have the time to make sure he is passing “custodianship” of the club to precisely the right people. He will sell it to whoever offers him the most money. And that money, at his current asking price, will cover much of the $2 billion or so he has given Chelsea over the years. Abramovich will not be out of pocket.This is not, put simply, what a good owner does. A good owner does not put a club in this sort of political position. A good owner does not sell in a hurry. A good owner does not cut and run because a war instigated by a despot he insists he has absolutely no connection to changes the world overnight. Chelsea’s fans will treasure the memories Abramovich has given them. It has, they say, been a beautiful romance. But a romance cannot be detached from the way it ends.CorrespondenceOne of the most powerful men in soccer with Gianni Infantino, right.Martin Meissner/Associated PressLast week’s column on soccer’s relationship with money, and with Russia, elicited quite the flurry of responses. Many of them were kind, and as such very difficult for a British person to mention without blushing.“Before it’s too late, can you do another update on Newcastle, and their craven, spineless, unprincipled ownership?” asked Paul Bender, suggesting the club’s nickname might be changed from the “Magpies” to the “Bone Saws.” Newcastle, though, is only one example. Soccer has to reassess its relationship with money on some fundamental level.Fans can lead that conversation. “I had no idea that my beloved (and much despaired) Everton were sponsored by a Russian oligarch,” John MacMillan wrote. “I’d assumed our training ground ‘USM Finch Farm’ was just the location’s proper name and not an ersatz emblem of corporate sponsorship.”I suspect more will be reported on this in the coming days, but Everton’s situation is a complex and a serious one, unfortunately. The companies linked to Alisher Usmanov that the club has “suspended” — not good enough, thanks — its relationships with were responsible for a vast portion of its commercial income. Farhad Moshiri, the Everton chairman, is the chief executive of one of those companies. It feels fragile, and unsustainable.Thomas Jakobsh, meanwhile, asks a very pertinent question. “I fully share your disappointment, outrage, and shame at how our game has been manipulated and debased,” he wrote. “But where do you draw the line, the one that demarcates the grifters, thugs and opportunists? On which side of the line does someone like Silvio Berlusconi fall? As for nation states, on which side of the line does one place Qatar, the U.A.E., or Azerbaijan?”This is the complication, of course. How can anyone have known that Berlusconi was not just a media magnate looking for acclaim, but an aspirant politician using soccer as a vehicle? There is a reason, unpalatable as it may be, that FIFA and UEFA are not keen to arbitrate conflicts: If Russia has to be banned for invading Ukraine, why not ban Saudi Arabia for inflicting countless casualties in its war in Yemen? This is a cop-out, but I have no idea where the line is, or should be. I just believe there has to be one.And, on the other side of the coin, there’s Tom Karsay. “Surely you’re not serious about that column. You know, whether the Ukraine invasion is worse than, say, the machine-gunning of Iraqi civilians by U.S. contractors, or any of the myriad other atrocities across the globe committed by FIFA nations. Your column is biased and lacks any depth. Stick to football.”I realize nobody reads this newsletter for the geopolitical analysis, so I won’t offer my two cents on how Ukraine and Iraq differ, if they differ at all. But there is something Tom misses, I think: The American sponsors of soccer competitions are not backed by the American state. American owners of teams do not act as proxies for the government or serve as the power base for a tyrant.Soccer is vulnerable when those who are not in it just for the sport, or just to make money out of the sport, are involved. That is when the actions of countries stain the name of a team. And that is where we should draw the line.That’s all for this week. All correspondence is welcome at askrory@nytimes.com, even if you have not enjoyed what you’ve read. The standard of criticism is still higher than it is on Twitter. There’ll be a new episode of European Nights, with Roger Bennett of Men in Blazers, ahead of the return of the Champions League next week, too.Have a great weekend, and keep safe.Rory More

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      Newcastle, Leeds and the Importance of Being … Something

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storyRory Smith On SoccerNewcastle, Leeds and the Importance of Being … SomethingWandering about without a plan inspires neither affection nor success. So why do so many clubs still do it?Newcastle has won only one of its last 11 Premier League games.Credit…Pool photo by Stu ForsterFeb. 6, 2021, 7:00 a.m. ETNEWCASTLE, England — The sound system at St James’s Park crackled into life just as the whistle blew and the players took the knee, as they have done for every Premier League game since the spring. The announcement was brief and sweet, an unexpected relic of days past: “Enjoy the game.”In the silence, it was not quite clear who the announcer was addressing. There are only 300 people inside the stadium: the players on the field, the two coaching staffs, a handful of executives, a smattering of stewards and security and journalists. Everyone was there for work, rather than pleasure.And besides, even if the announcer’s words were meant for those in exile at home, the people who would ordinarily pack the empty stands, this is Newcastle United. Few, if any, of the fans would suggest they have enjoyed anything to do with this club for some time.Newcastle is — and has been for a long time — a club in the grip of endemic drift. Its owner, Mike Ashley, wants to sell, so much so that he has sought legal recourse against the Premier League for blocking a potential sale to a Saudi-led consortium last year.The fans, tired of Ashley’s absentee management and his lack of investment, either emotional or financial, want him gone so desperately that they appear ready to embrace any would-be savior, no matter how many concerns there might be about charges of content piracy or human rights abuses.If the loathing for Ashley is universal, the contempt for Steve Bruce — the manager installed by the owner last season — is getting there. It is not just that Bruce used to manage Sunderland, Newcastle’s fierce rival. It is not just that Bruce replaced Rafael Benítez, an object of adoration among the fans. It is not just that Bruce was appointed by Ashley and so — in a way that never applied to Benítez — is perceived as an emissary of a hated regime.Newcastle’s fans are confident they have identified the club’s problem.Credit…Eddie Keogh/ReutersIt is that Bruce, like Ashley, seems to have so little ambition for the club. He has articulated no grand vision of what Newcastle could be. His aspiration seems to stretch no further than stasis, the bare minimum required to maintain the club’s Premier League status. He has no vision beyond the literal wording of his job description: manager.In the middle of another difficult winter at Newcastle, Bruce spoke of addressing a slump in form by doing things “his way.” It was not entirely clear, then, whose way he had been following up to that point: He has been in charge for a season and a half. Quite what his way might be, too, remained a mystery.Those who have worked with him say that Bruce is a good coach, thorough and diligent and likable, if perhaps a little staid, a little cautious. But he espouses no distinct philosophy. He does not have a tightly-defined idea of how the game should be played, or what a squad should look like, or what a team should do. He does not seem to believe in anything in particular. He does not represent anything. He does not stand for anything.Steve Bruce’s Newcastle may be saved from relegation only because three teams are playing worse.Credit…Pool photo by Lee SmithHis counterpart last week, crouching on the touchline a few yards away, is the opposite. Before the game kicked off, Newcastle and Marcelo Bielsa’s Leeds United were not having vastly different seasons. Both were skirting the edges of the relegation battle: Leeds had 23 points and Newcastle 19, despite having played one extra game.The coverage of the teams — and the mood around them — could not, though, have been more different. Newcastle, as always, was a morass of discontent and bubbling crisis. Leeds, on the other hand, had taken the Premier League by storm, hailed by fans and neutral observers for their courage, their style, their adventure.Bielsa’s team had spent the season as a source of fascination and praise and, lately, a little resentment: No other team could lose by 6-2 to Manchester United, for example, and come out of it not just without criticism but with credit. Some of that, of course, can be attributed to the fact that Leeds, unlike Newcastle, was newly promoted, playing the Premier League for the first time in 16 years. Oscillations in form were to be expected, tolerated.But much of it is down to Bielsa. The Leeds that he has created is, innately, fun: fun to watch, and, though demanding and energy-sapping, apparently fun to be. His players give the impression they are enjoying themselves. Luke Ayling, the right back, charges out of defense like a toddler doped up on sugar. Jack Harrison scurries around like an eager Labrador. Stuart Dallas, in his first season in England’s top flight, has developed a taste for pinging cross-field passes. They put together wonderful, exuberant moves. They score intricate, breathtaking goals.More important, Bielsa’s dogmatism, his fundamentalism, his refusal to compromise his beliefs — all the things that, previously in his career, have been held against him — are now strengths. Leeds stands for something: a way of playing, a series of assumptions about how the game should be, a theory, a creed, an ideal.Leeds Manager Marcelo Bielsa has defenders, and critics. But his players know exactly what he expects.Credit…Andy Rain/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesIn recent years, soccer has slowly, grudgingly accepted the idea that managers who adhere to a philosophy, a certain set of ideas, are not selling snake oil. It is understood, on some level, that possessing a clear sense of what you want your team to be offers a competitive edge: It helps recruit the right players, it makes coaching them more effective, it offers a barometer of success and purpose that is not reliant on individual results. At an executive level, it can even, at times, ease the transition between one manager and the next.But the benefits of a cogent philosophy are not purely sporting. It has been striking, in Leeds’s low moments under Bielsa, how little discord there has been about his methods. Most fans, if not all, are happy to absorb the lows as an unfortunate, but necessary, recompense for the highs.Subscribing to Bielsa’s philosophy gives them something to take pride and solace in, even when the score line offers no succor. It affords the club, and by extension the fans, an identity. They stand for something that does not depend on results. Newcastle is the opposite. A few days after losing to Leeds, Bruce’s team won at Everton. His side produced a smart, disciplined performance, and the victory alleviated mounting concerns over relegation. It did absolutely nothing to dispel the enduring unhappiness.That contrast, between Leeds and Newcastle, holds outside England’s two great one-club cities. Fans, increasingly, no longer see a manager talking about a philosophy and a vision as marketing jargon or corporate bunk. It is, instead, something to cling to and believe in, a reason to be proud.For much of this season, criticism has swirled around Graham Potter and Brighton. The team has lingered in the lower reaches of the table, its neat, attractive, flexible style of play winning plaudits but few games. He did not flinch when he was told he had to deviate from his methods to get results. More impressively, few of the club’s fans did, either. They understood, and appreciated, his plan. In the space of four days this week, Brighton beat Tottenham and Liverpool.The opposite is true at Chelsea. The dismissal of Frank Lampard and his replacement by Thomas Tuchel, vastly more qualified for the role, was made in order to win trophies; that, after all, is Chelsea’s modern, corporate identity. But it left fans feeling rootless: What mattered to them is not just the outcome, but feeling that the route taken has some deeper meaning.Newcastle has big-club resources. What it does not appear to have is a plan.Credit…Laurence Griffiths/Getty ImagesThis is not a uniquely English phenomenon. In Europe, fans “no longer recognize themselves in their clubs,” as Le Monde wrote of Bordeaux, Nantes and Marseille this week, three teams with no apparent broader purpose or identity. [A hat-tip to reader Manuel Buchwald for pointing me in the direction of that piece.]For years, fans have endured a growing sense of dislocation from their clubs, feeling unmoored as teams have morphed into superstores and retail brands and content farms and their players into millionaire entrepreneurs. That feeling will, of course, have only been exacerbated by the physical distance enforced by the pandemic.In that environment, clubs now effectively have to stand for something, anything: a reliance on youth, a certain style of play — expansive or exciting or muscular or intense, whatever it may be — or a distinct, bespoke approach. Those who do, like Leeds, earn not only patience from but also the admiration of their fans.Those who do not, like Newcastle, find that when there is no reason to enjoy the game — not the result, not the journey — the fire of fury and regret can quickly curdle into something much more dangerous for a business reliant on the unyielding affection of its public: apathy. That is the lesson Ashley, and Bruce, can teach the rest of soccer, that those who stand for nothing risk dwindling away into it.Maybe We Were Just Early in the Season?Why are these men smiling again? Take a look at the Premier League table.Credit…Pool photo by Nick PottsThis has been, you will have heard, the most unpredictable Premier League season in history. Well, since Leicester City won it, anyway. It has definitely been the most unpredictable season since that one, five years ago.The reality is slightly different. Yes, pretty much the whole top half of the Premier League might still nurse an ambition to qualify for European soccer next season. But the three teams at the foot of the table seem cut adrift, and by the close of play on Sunday, the title race might have swung fairly dramatically toward Manchester City.If City can beat an exhausted, uninspired and injury-ravaged Liverpool at Anfield, Pep Guardiola’s team most likely will have killed off the reigning champion’s dwindling hopes, and gone at least three points clear of its nearest rival — a vastly improved, but still unfinished Manchester United — with a game in hand. City has won 13 games in a row. It has not conceded a goal since the Franco-Prussian War. In a season of twists and turns, it has found a straight road.There is a strong possibility that, the race for the top four aside, a season that was meant to be marked by the unpredictable will end up with the most predictable outcome imaginable. And, though the circumstances of this year have been unusual, it feels as if this is a sensation we have had before.The table is always tight, chaotic, fluid for the first half of any season. The gaps between teams are smaller, because they have played fewer games, and so it takes a while to settle. In the opening few months, every season has an air of uncertainty.It is only now, as we turn the corner into the home straight, that order emerges. That has happened later, chronologically, this season — because the start was delayed by two months — but at the same time as it always does, in terms of games played. The effect has been more pronounced, thanks to the compacted schedule, the empty stadiums and the greater impact of injury and fatigue, but it is not unique. This is what always happens. It is just that we always forget.CorrespondenceThis Danny Ings goal was ruled offside. Yeah, we don’t know why either.Credit…Pool photo by Michael SteeleSadly, Laurence Dandurant has far too much clarity in his thinking to be consulted on how soccer can extricate itself from the nonsense — as any Southampton fan would describe it — it has made of its own offside rule. “Why don’t they change the offside rule to just a player’s boots? This would end the maddening shoulders and armpits debate.”Personally, I’m an advocate of the daylight rule — if any part of the player’s body is onside, the player is onside — but this works just as well.As I was expecting, last week’s column on the Old Firm inspired quite a bit of feedback, though (amazingly) none of it was especially angry. That must be a first. You raised quite a few points I’d like to address, so bear with me.“I completely agree with the sentiment of the Old Firm buying older players hampering their development on a European stage but think the greatest impact has been on the Scotland national team,” Benjamin Livingston wrote. “The Old Firm and the league as a whole are signing journeymen players from down south, rather than giving their own youth a chance.” This is a really important point: the future for Scotland, like (say) Belgium, is in having a much younger league.Catherine Pereira, meanwhile, pointed out that while Scotland’s men’s team has not been to a major tournament for two decades, its women’s team was at the World Cup in 2019, and performed credibly. “The team is ranked 21 in the world by FIFA,” she wrote. “It’s not great, considering Scotland’s history, but it’s not quite as disappointing as the men’s.” Quite right, too, though much of the praise for that should go to a Glasgow team that is not in the Old Firm.Glasgow City played a Champions League knockout-round match last year. Neither Rangers nor Celtic can say that.Credit…Alvaro Barrientos/Agence France-Presse — Getty ImagesWilliam Bradley noted, quite correctly, that last week’s piece ignored the sectarian roots of the Old Firm animosity. “Your story did not touch on or even mention [that], which I must say from your story’s journalistic quality.” That was deliberate. Everyone involved believes sectarianism to be a stain on Scottish soccer that should be left in the past. In a column addressing the future, I decided to take the same approach.And thanks to Ian Stewart, who has touched on something that is, I think, really important. “There seems to be a strain of thinking that prizes turning clubs into machines of player development, churning out young stars to be sold off to fund the next round of stars-in-development,” he wrote. “This is a front-office mind-set, not a fan’s. As a fan, I simply want to see the best team possible being fielded as often as possible.”This is a tension that a host of teams — right up to the likes of Borussia Dortmund — have to navigate: Soccer would lose a lot of its richness if everyone apart from the established financial elite decided their role was simply to feed the insatiable appetite of the powerful. There is a logical counterargument, though: The process of development-and-sale, if done well, can not only help you win today, but enable you to win more in future, as those funds are reinvested in better-quality players. Perhaps, in this case, a front-office mind-set is healthy.AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More

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      San Francisco 49ers Increase Ownership Stake in Leeds United

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      AdvertisementContinue reading the main storySupported byContinue reading the main storySan Francisco 49ers Increase Leeds United Ownership StakeThe N.F.L. team, a minority owner in Leeds since 2018, now will control 37 percent of the Premier League club.Leeds United currently sits 12th in the 20-team Premier League.Credit…Paul Ellis/Pool, via ReutersJan. 25, 2021, 6:00 a.m. ETTwo years after dipping their toe in English soccer, the N.F.L.’s San Francisco 49ers have doubled down on their bet.The 49ers on Monday announced that they had increased their ownership stake in the Premier League club Leeds United to 37 percent from 15 percent, a move that further embeds American interests in the world’s richest soccer league.Paraag Marathe, the 49ers executive who has held a seat on the Leeds United board since San Francisco’s initial investment in 2018, will become vice chairman of Leeds United, whose majority owner will remain Andrea Radrizzani, the Italian entrepreneur. The 49ers and Leeds United did not provide financial details of the deal to increase the N.F.L. team’s ownership stake, though it is likely to represent a significant premium on the amount the 49ers spent in 2018, when Leeds was still playing in England’s second-tier Championship.In an interview with the Italian newspaper Corriere della Sera in July, Radrizzani boasted that his initial investment in Leeds of 100 million pounds (about $140 million) had tripled in value. If the club remains in the Premier League, he predicted its valuation could double again in the next three years.The deal with the 49ers also ends speculation about potential new investment in Leeds. Over the past year, Radrizzani openly talked about selling off more of his ownership stake in Leeds, a team he is hoping to return to its former status as a major player in English soccer.Marathe, whose duties with the 49ers include oversight of the team’s outside business ventures, told The New York Times in July of the 49ers’ wish to increase their investment in Leeds, and to complete a deal as quickly as possible.While a deal is now done, it was not quick, smooth or simple, Marathe said, because of complications created by the coronavirus pandemic.“I’ve been doing deals my whole career, and it’s always easier to have a meeting of the minds when the minds are actually physically next to each other, so that, first and foremost, made it very complicated,” Marathe said in a video interview in which he was joined by Radrizzani.Radrizzani confirmed he had talked to other parties about investing in Leeds United, including the Qatari owners of Paris St.-Germain, the perennial French champion.The 49ers’ new commitment to English soccer underlines the growing synergy and potential for growth that the owners of N.F.L. franchises see in English soccer. The Glazer family, which owns the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, has controlled Manchester United since 2005; Arsenal is backed by the Los Angeles Rams owner E. Stanley Kroenke; and Fulham, which like Leeds United won promotion to return to the Premier League for this season, is owned by Shahid Khan, who also owns the Jacksonville Jaguars. Liverpool, the reigning Premier League champion, is controlled by Fenway Sports Group, owner of baseball’s Boston Red Sox. Crystal Palace and most recently Burnley have also attracted American investment in recent years.“I can’t really speak for other American owners and what they’re doing, but for us it’s about synergy and partnership,” Marathe said. “Whatever sport it is, it’s still operating under the same premise: You have media rights, you have ticket sales, you have commercial, hospitality and you have your players. Everything is the same.”The 49ers executive Paraag Marathe will serve as vice chairman of the Leeds United board.Credit…Lachlan Cunningham/Getty ImagesThe 49ers’ plan in increasing their stake, Marathe added, is to bring the team’s N.F.L. experience to bear on Leeds’s operations on and off the field, through shared proprietary analytics tools to best practices on management and staffing.Leeds, back in the Premier League after a 16-year absence marred by sporting and financial failures, has won plaudits for its swashbuckling, front-foot style of play under its Argentine coach, Marcelo Bielsa. But it remains some distance from recapturing the days when it was in the mix for the championship year after year.In its preparation for its return to the elite, Radrizzani said, Leeds spent the sixth-highest amount on securing new talent during the last off-season. That spending will continue, and be supported by the investment from the 49ers, Marathe said.“If we are able to stay in the Premier League, after two or three years I think this club could step up to be in the group of three or four clubs next to the big ones,” Radrizzani said, picking out Leicester City, the unheralded team that went from relegation danger to Premier League champion in the space of a year in 2016, as a trajectory he would like to emulate. Since Leicester’s title victory, its Thai owners have invested in new players, coaches and infrastructure to maintain the club’s place in the upper reaches of the league.“Our model, I think, is Leicester City,” Radrizzani said. “We have shared this a lot internally. If there’s a club I admire for what has been done in terms of football management, it’s Leicester.”Having completed the stake sale, Radrizzani acknowledged that he was now considering adding to his own portfolio, perhaps by buying other European soccer teams. The idea, he said, would be to find opportunities that would allow Leeds to develop players at smaller clubs, or to invest in larger ones that would allow him to develop their sporting and commercial models in concert with those at Leeds United.He said he would not consider, however, emulating Manchester City’s model of multiple-club ownership, with teams spread across multiple continents. Radrizzani said his sole focus would be on Europe.The relationship between Radrizzani and Marathe has grown to the point that the 49ers executive has come to refer to the Italian as his “brother.” Before the pandemic, Marathe was a frequent visitor to Leeds with Jed York, the 49ers’ chief executive, and an early riser to watch its games from his home in California.Not being able to travel to Leeds’s Elland Road stadium to witness the final weeks of the team’s promotion to the Premier League did not dull Marathe and the 49ers’ intent on following through with an expanded investment. Neither did the financial losses Leeds United has endured as a result of the pandemic, which Radrizzani estimated to be roughly 40 million pounds ($55 million).“Was it a blip on the radar or is it a blip on the radar? Certainly,” Marathe said of the pandemic’s effects on sporting finances. “Do I think sport is going to come roaring back in possibly a bigger way than pre-Covid? Absolutely. Otherwise we wouldn’t be doing this.”AdvertisementContinue reading the main story More