The miracle at the Velodrome
But even by OM's standards, the chaos which has followed Alain Perrin's dismissal was almost unprecedented.
Perrin, who'd taken Troyes from the lower divisions to the UEFA Cup in a matter of years, had seemingly done the same trick with Marseille. Brought to clean up the unholy mess left by a succession of ephemeral coaches, ramshackle organisation, chronic debt, cronyism and open warfare at the top of the club, he had achieved his mission perfectly.
The dead wood had been chopped with little regard for reputations; so-called 'star players' had been offloaded or mis au placard sent to grass in the reserves.
For once, some semblance of order seemed to have been restored. For once someone was in charge.
But Perrin had ruffled too many feathers. His decision to woo Fabien Barthez back to the club where he'd earned his first major honours the '93 European Cup among them had turned many supporters, and a sizeable chunk of the dressing-room, against him. Chief amongst the rebels was Croatian keeper Vedran Runje, a favourite with the 'Ultras', who soon found allies to unsettle his manager, a somewhat stern, if dignified figure ill-suited to the hot-blooded environment of the most Mediterranean club of them all.
Nasty rumours started to circulate about Perrin's private life. It hardly mattered that he'd transformed a club threatened by relegation and achieved qualification for the Champions' League in his first full season as a manager. Perrin had to go; and he was replaced by the quite extraordinary Jose Anigo, a Marseillais through and through, who'd never managed at this level, but whose bond with the club was unquestionable.
The time had come to "awaken the dead," Anigo said. In truth, the situation could have been worse: Marseille, sixth in the championship, appeared healthy enough for a corpse. The squad included many quality players Meriem, Mido, Drogba, Battles, and now Barthez. The Stade Vélodrome remained the hottest cauldron of them all, as it had been even when the club had been relegated in the mid-90's, following the bribery scandal that had ended the reign of Bernard Tapie. Most feared the worst; if Marseille could find a way to self-destruct they would take it.
And here we are now, five months later, with the OM 90 minutes away from the unlikeliest triumph. The dour, defensive team built by Perrin has morphed into a far more seductive outfit. Didier Drogba has been voted "French player of the year". Liverpool, Inter and Newcastle have been put to the sword in the UEFA Cup. Jose Anigo, the most engaging of men distances himself from the plaudits. "I've done nothing; it's all thanks to the players obviously! I am still an apprentice," he says. "I've still a long way to go before I become a good coach."
Many would beg to differ. No team has yet found a way to counter his customary 4-2-3-1, which changes into a 4-3-3 when the team are in possession. This requires a tremendous expenditure of energy from players who earlier this season were described as "the laziest in the League."
Anigo's strategy is surprisingly simple. "Emotionally speaking, give 10% to a player he'll give 100% back to you. It's just like in a family. I behave here as I do at home. Actually, this club is a bit like my home."
He's a Marseillais. He was born there, 43 years ago. His first club as a player (a defender who played 87 games at the top level, at Nimes and, of course, Marseille) was the Cité Saint-Louis one of those high-rise suburbs similar to that which gave us Zinedine Zidane.
He's prone to explode when things do not go his way.
But candour is not synonymous of naivety. He might allow encourage his players to celebrate a victory in the city's night spots until the break of day, as they did after knocking Liverpool out of the UEFA Cup; but he also believes in the value of hard work on the training ground. "If one of my guys does not adhere to my values, he won't play. Le collectif is the key."
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