They say you should never go back but Ricardo Oliveira proved everybody wrong with a winning return at the Seville derby.
Whether it's down the altar with Elizabeth Taylor or across the lawn to that non-firing firework in a milk bottle, the rules state you should never go back, no matter how tempted you are. Sequels, say the Spanish, are never as good as the original. Tucker's Luck just wasn't Grange Hill and as for the Phantom Menace we could be here all week what with the "younglings" and the "acting" but why bother when four little words will do: Jar Jar bloody Binks. Above all, though, you should never go back to the football club where you once made your name. And no matter how good you are, you should definitely never go back if that football club is Real Betis Balompié. Rafael Gordillo and Luis del Sol are probably the two greatest players in Betis' history and when they went back, they went down.
That, though, is just the start. Because you should never go back to Betis if the last time you were there they didn't pay you, if the last time you played for them you tore your knee ligaments to shreds and if you departed the club in a huff, vowing never to return while the owner vowed revenge if you ever tried. You should never go back when the owner in question is Manuel Ruiz de Lopera – Andalucía's very own Prince of Darkness, a bundle of emotions more than capable of ensuring his threats are anything but empty. And you certainly shouldn't go back with the team sunk, the manager on the verge of the sack, the fans on your back, relegation looming and an un-winnable game coming up. Five days after the president publicly announced he didn't want you anyway because your "knee is screwed".
But for every Phantom Menace there's a Godfather Part II and that is exactly what Ricardo Oliveira did this week. And, amazingly, it worked. In a weekend in which Osasuna climbed out of the relegation zone at last, Villarreal actually managed to win, saluting soldier Salva Ballesta shot marvellous Málaga into seventh, Real Madrid bored their way to another 1-0 and Barcelona tore another team apart, leaving their coach mumbling: "We tried to scare them but we were the ones that got scared; 99% of teams leave the Camp Nou with their bums broken," it was Oliveira who was the star.
When Oliveira left Betis, he had been the side's top scorer in a team that had finished fourth in La Liga, qualifying for the Champions League for the time in their history. They had only ever finished higher twice – when they were third in 1963-64 and when an Irish coach who tried to bribe their final-day opponents led them to the 1934-35 league title. They had just won the Copa del Rey – their third ever major trophy. And they had beaten José Mourinho's Chelsea. Sadly for Oliveira that day – 1 November 2005 – was also when he tore his knee ligaments. He never played for Betis again: his registration unilaterally withdrawn by the club, jilted, he joined São Paulo on loan and then signed for Milan, before going to Real Zaragoza.
For Betis, without Oliveira and Joaquín, who'd left for Valencia, the slide really took hold. Betis finished 14th and coach Llorenç Serra Ferrer departed. Javier Irureta headed south for the first time and failed, so did Luis Fernández, and then B team boss Paco Chaparro was brought in on the final day of the season to rescue them, Betis finishing 16th. The following season Héctor Cúper, the man who if there were a competition for coming second would still come second, took over and carried Betis to second bottom. Chaparro again came in, copy of Art of War under his arm, suspiciously luscious locks on his head, and steered the team clear. Still the fans weren't happy; it was hardly the good old days. Betis didn't score enough goals, fans started chanting against Lopera so he left, refusing to return. Puppet president Pedro León was in charge and Lopera started talking about selling to buyers that never properly materialised and probably never really existed.
This season, though, was supposed to be better: Betis bought Mehmet Aurélio, Achille Emaná and Sergio García, there was Mark González to return, and Lopera announced that they had the best squad in their entire history. But amid injuries and poor form, plus the lack of a real No9 or any genuine organisation, Betis were struggling. Five points from a possible 27 left Chaparro on the brink. Only a penalty save from Ricardo last week kept him in a job. Graffiti attacking the players and the club appeared at the training ground. So did abuse-spitting supporters. Ahead lay Sevilla at the Sanchez Pizjuán – a game that Betis had not won for 13 years – followed by Barcelona, Madrid and Villarreal. Just behind, too close for comfort, lay the relegation zone. "I don't like the direction we're heading," admitted Chaparro as he made his latest plea for a striker.
This time, Lopera listened. Making great play of the fact that he had "opened a bank on a Saturday", which makes a change from pulling the cash from the black bin bags he carries round or refusing to pay for players' operations, he found almost €10m. Never mind León's claim five days earlier that the deal would not and should not happen, Oliveira was back.
There were 25 minutes to go until the window slammed shut; barely a week before a Seville derby that had everything except any decent football – screaming tackles and death defying rolls, pre-match stirring with Chaparro accusing Sevilla's Diego Capel of being a cheat and a diver (which he is), Manolo Jiménez accusing him back, post-match sniping when the pair refused to shake hands, a game-turning red card, some choice repartee from the Sevilla fans who chanted "Chaparro's a car-park attendant", thanks to a costume that was part maitre d', part hotel doorman and part snooker referee, and a furious final whistle "sleeve cutter" from the Betis boss.
It was a gesture of rage and relief; one that could yet land Chaparro in big trouble. If it was foolish, it was also understandable – which is more than can be said for his accent – because this weekend García got the first and Oliveira got the second as Betis won the derby 2-1 and Chaparro a stay of execution. When the Brazilian broke the rules and went back in mid-week, Oliveira insisted: "I'm not Betis's saviour." Few believed him then. Even fewer believe him now. Maybe sequels are not so bad after all.
Whether it's down the altar with Elizabeth Taylor or across the lawn to that non-firing firework in a milk bottle, the rules state you should never go back, no matter how tempted you are. Sequels, say the Spanish, are never as good as the original. Tucker's Luck just wasn't Grange Hill and as for the Phantom Menace we could be here all week what with the "younglings" and the "acting" but why bother when four little words will do: Jar Jar bloody Binks. Above all, though, you should never go back to the football club where you once made your name. And no matter how good you are, you should definitely never go back if that football club is Real Betis Balompié. Rafael Gordillo and Luis del Sol are probably the two greatest players in Betis' history and when they went back, they went down.
That, though, is just the start. Because you should never go back to Betis if the last time you were there they didn't pay you, if the last time you played for them you tore your knee ligaments to shreds and if you departed the club in a huff, vowing never to return while the owner vowed revenge if you ever tried. You should never go back when the owner in question is Manuel Ruiz de Lopera – Andalucía's very own Prince of Darkness, a bundle of emotions more than capable of ensuring his threats are anything but empty. And you certainly shouldn't go back with the team sunk, the manager on the verge of the sack, the fans on your back, relegation looming and an un-winnable game coming up. Five days after the president publicly announced he didn't want you anyway because your "knee is screwed".
But for every Phantom Menace there's a Godfather Part II and that is exactly what Ricardo Oliveira did this week. And, amazingly, it worked. In a weekend in which Osasuna climbed out of the relegation zone at last, Villarreal actually managed to win, saluting soldier Salva Ballesta shot marvellous Málaga into seventh, Real Madrid bored their way to another 1-0 and Barcelona tore another team apart, leaving their coach mumbling: "We tried to scare them but we were the ones that got scared; 99% of teams leave the Camp Nou with their bums broken," it was Oliveira who was the star.
When Oliveira left Betis, he had been the side's top scorer in a team that had finished fourth in La Liga, qualifying for the Champions League for the time in their history. They had only ever finished higher twice – when they were third in 1963-64 and when an Irish coach who tried to bribe their final-day opponents led them to the 1934-35 league title. They had just won the Copa del Rey – their third ever major trophy. And they had beaten José Mourinho's Chelsea. Sadly for Oliveira that day – 1 November 2005 – was also when he tore his knee ligaments. He never played for Betis again: his registration unilaterally withdrawn by the club, jilted, he joined São Paulo on loan and then signed for Milan, before going to Real Zaragoza.
For Betis, without Oliveira and Joaquín, who'd left for Valencia, the slide really took hold. Betis finished 14th and coach Llorenç Serra Ferrer departed. Javier Irureta headed south for the first time and failed, so did Luis Fernández, and then B team boss Paco Chaparro was brought in on the final day of the season to rescue them, Betis finishing 16th. The following season Héctor Cúper, the man who if there were a competition for coming second would still come second, took over and carried Betis to second bottom. Chaparro again came in, copy of Art of War under his arm, suspiciously luscious locks on his head, and steered the team clear. Still the fans weren't happy; it was hardly the good old days. Betis didn't score enough goals, fans started chanting against Lopera so he left, refusing to return. Puppet president Pedro León was in charge and Lopera started talking about selling to buyers that never properly materialised and probably never really existed.
This season, though, was supposed to be better: Betis bought Mehmet Aurélio, Achille Emaná and Sergio García, there was Mark González to return, and Lopera announced that they had the best squad in their entire history. But amid injuries and poor form, plus the lack of a real No9 or any genuine organisation, Betis were struggling. Five points from a possible 27 left Chaparro on the brink. Only a penalty save from Ricardo last week kept him in a job. Graffiti attacking the players and the club appeared at the training ground. So did abuse-spitting supporters. Ahead lay Sevilla at the Sanchez Pizjuán – a game that Betis had not won for 13 years – followed by Barcelona, Madrid and Villarreal. Just behind, too close for comfort, lay the relegation zone. "I don't like the direction we're heading," admitted Chaparro as he made his latest plea for a striker.
This time, Lopera listened. Making great play of the fact that he had "opened a bank on a Saturday", which makes a change from pulling the cash from the black bin bags he carries round or refusing to pay for players' operations, he found almost €10m. Never mind León's claim five days earlier that the deal would not and should not happen, Oliveira was back.
There were 25 minutes to go until the window slammed shut; barely a week before a Seville derby that had everything except any decent football – screaming tackles and death defying rolls, pre-match stirring with Chaparro accusing Sevilla's Diego Capel of being a cheat and a diver (which he is), Manolo Jiménez accusing him back, post-match sniping when the pair refused to shake hands, a game-turning red card, some choice repartee from the Sevilla fans who chanted "Chaparro's a car-park attendant", thanks to a costume that was part maitre d', part hotel doorman and part snooker referee, and a furious final whistle "sleeve cutter" from the Betis boss.
It was a gesture of rage and relief; one that could yet land Chaparro in big trouble. If it was foolish, it was also understandable – which is more than can be said for his accent – because this weekend García got the first and Oliveira got the second as Betis won the derby 2-1 and Chaparro a stay of execution. When the Brazilian broke the rules and went back in mid-week, Oliveira insisted: "I'm not Betis's saviour." Few believed him then. Even fewer believe him now. Maybe sequels are not so bad after all.