Dear Daniel (may I address you as Daniel? Good.)—
I come to you in a spirit of camarederie, sympathy, and, yes, even respect. Set aside any suspicions you may have about this being a blog dedicated to your club’s biggest rival (our club is quite a bit larger than yours, you must admit). Oh—I’m being told that “biggest” in this sense usually refers to the importance of the rivalry, not the relative size of the two clubs involved. Hm. Be that as it may, I hope you will be open to my entreaty.
Again, I come to you with a sincere, earnest desire to see your club earn the legacy that it deserves and to offer to its fans the experience that they’ve come to expect. It’s with that in mind that I was concerned to hear rumours that your current manager, one Antonio Conte, may soon be sacked due to an intemperate diatribe after dropping points, at home, to the worst squad in the Prem despite nursing a two-goal lead with just 13 minutes to play.
Please believe when I state unequivocally that you should not sack this manager. He is a world-class manager. He is a winner. What’s more, sacking him might cost you millions, just as it did when you sacked Pochettino, Nuno, and Mourinho. In fact, there’s a lesson here: sacking managers isn’t just expensive; it’s counterproductive. Since sacking Pochettino, this wondrous club of yours was been wandering the wilderness. What it needs is a firm hand, an experienced, stability.
You must therefore do everything in your power to convince Conte to stay on, certainly for the remainder of the season and for years to come. Look at it this way: for as incendiary as his speech was, it was a masterstroke of motivational genius. His players will have to look themselves in the mirror, realise the essential truth of what he said, and either rise to the occasion or be jettisoned come summer. That’s all there is to it. I cross my heart and swear to die that this is what Conte intended. He truly didn’t believe all those hurtful, truthful facts that he spewed. He was simply trying to light a fire under the lads to get them to rise to the occasion. Truth.
I swear that I have no ulterior motives here, and shame on those who would suggest or insinuate otherwise. Pure as the driven snow, I am. Sure, I’ve read some spurious stories (and how unfair an adjective is that?) about certain Gooners salivating over the lurid spectacle of Conte’s incandescence, of his players trudging mirthlessly about the pitch playing his dull, negative, predictable…tactics despite continually failing to achieve much of anything with them. I’ve also heard tell of certain Gooners enjoying this unfolding Greek tragedy, hoping that the results are just good enough to keep Conte on but not good enough to win silverware. Shameful stuff, that. Kind sir, you will find so such drivel here. Honest.
I only want what your club deserves. I want it to occupy its rightful place in the Prem, nothing more, nothing less. We both know where that place is—don’t we, Danny? I hope I can count on you to follow up on this sage, well-weighted counsel. Trust me.