Brendan Rogers is the physical embodiment of the Premier League itself, which means he could be successful in Leicester for as long fans can stand him.
A theory: If the Premier League coalesced into physical form, climbed into a human skin, and started walking around, it would look and sound an awful lot like Brendan Rodgers.
After all, how would a conversation with the Premier League go? It would be pretty intense. There would be a very strong handshake at the beginning, and another at the end, this time with the other hand clasped above your elbow. A lot of significant eye contact. A lot of speaking, on the League’s part, and a lot of nodding too, as the League emphasises that it agrees wholeheartedly with the things it is saying.
And what would it be saying? It would sound good, of course. It would have a pleasing, urgent rhythm and there would be a lot of words, piling up and being nodded through. Statement after statement, almost all about the League itself of course. What it was doing. Why it was doing it. Why it was succeeding. And why everybody was very impressed with the fact that it was succeeding.
Over and round, back and forth, until you were nodding too, half out of agreement and half because it seems like the neighbourly thing to do. Then, later, you’d think about the actual words, and you’d hold them up next to reality. And you’d burst out laughing.
This may not accurately describe a real conversation with the real Brendan Rodgers. But there is an idea of Brendan Rodgers: the manager that doesn’t train, but educates; the high priest of death by football; the man who steers the magic carpet of development. He lives in the space between the genie of the lamp, David Brent, and 30 Rock’s Rural Juror scriptwriters. Which makes him, like the Premier League, a brilliant and tiring spectacle.
It doesn’t leave much room for thinking about Rodgers the manager, however. And this is a bit of a shame, because underneath all the self-basting is somebody with all the right instincts. Personal taste will vary, but almost all football fans can get behind a coach who wants to play attacking, dominant football, who likes to promote and improve young players, and who is happy to make all the right noises about loyalty, projects, and ambition.
Perhaps this is why he is the natural replacement to Claude Puel, the first Premier League manager to be dismissed for ambient misery. Watching Leicester play this season has been, for the neutral, a frustrating time, as lots of interesting things threaten to happen, but hardly ever do.
And he has a pretty exciting squad waiting for him: Ben Chilwell, Wilfried Ndidi, James Maddison, Demarai Gray, and plenty others. After Leicester’s mid-week win over Brighton, Rodgers went down to the dressing room from the director’s box and told the squad, reportedly, that:
I’ve only left to come here for one reason and that’s to work with this group of players.
Even if those words turn out to be hollow, they function in the moment. Brendan Rodgers may not be your manager tomorrow. He may only be Leicester’s manager until he gets the call from Tottenham, or Chelsea. Or Barcelona. Or Ajax circa 1995, or Pele’s Brazil. But today, he is totally and completely your manager, to an almost overwhelming extent.
It’s a relatively exclusive group, the Premier League’s Nearly, But Never Quite Club. Rodgers is there, along with Kevin Keegan and Rafa Benitez. Avram Grant, too, picking up the pieces at the end of Jose Mourinho’s first spell at Stamford Bridge. And Leicester might not be the place for him to rectify that: a second impossible title is surely pushing it.
But it’s a chance for him to make something. To educate. To ride that magic carpet.
There is an extremely interesting group of coaches emerging in the middle of the Premier League, including Nuno Espirito Santo at Wolves, Javi Gracia at Watford, Eddie Howe at Bournemouth. Maybe even Marco Silva at Everton, if the curse of Goodison Park ever relents.
The logic of the competition states that all are, by default, jostling for the attention of the Big Six. But that dispiriting framing doesn’t entirely diminish the sight of promising coaches doing positive things.
Now, into this group comes Rodgers, smiling and shaking hands. It’s going to be relentless, he says, nodding. He knows. He believes. And hey, he might even be right.