If you thought cramming Bellingham, Vinícius and Mbappé into the same dressing room is basically a cheat code for trophies, Frank Leboeuf just showed up and gently (well… sort of) yanked off the rose-tinted glasses. In his logic, when you’ve got several “give me the ball and step aside” guys on the pitch at the same time, football doesn’t magically get easier—it suddenly gets harder. Kind of like trying to keep three chats going at once while also pretending you’re working.
'Frank, But Real Are Second—What’s the Problem?'
— They’re high up in the table, sure. But league position doesn’t cancel out the fact the team can look “unassembled” at times, — Leboeuf seems to be answering between the lines. The question isn’t how many points you’ve got—it’s how you’re getting them, and what it’s costing you.
And this is where it gets fun: Frank isn’t talking about “bad form” or “the wrong instructions.” He’s pointing at the classic elite-club headache—when it’s not a squad, it’s a diamond display window.
'You Mean the Famous Galacticos?'
— Yeah, Real have been here before—in the early 2000s, — Leboeuf reminds. Back then they had David Beckham, Zinedine Zidane and Ronaldo (the “Phenomenon” one). And you kind of want to say: “Cool, no need to train—just go out and win.”
But reality, as always, doesn’t do discounts:
— Winning trophies with one superstar is already tough. With two, it’s impossible. With three, it’s straight-up fantasy, — and here Frank sounds like a guy who tried to assemble a wardrobe without the manual.
'So Why Aren’t “Stars” a Guaranteed Goal Fest?'
— Because you have to play them, you start tailoring the game to them, you’re tempted to build the whole team around them, — says Leboeuf.
And then comes the key line:
— Football doesn’t work like that. Ever.
It’s harsh, but it makes sense. A team is a mechanism: balance between the lines, roles without drama, work off the ball, pressing, cover, discipline. And when you’ve got three guys on the pitch who are wired to be “first violin” by default, the orchestra turns into a jam session—everyone’s playing a solo.
'Is Xabi Alonso the Coach Who Has to Make Egos “Best Friends”?'
— Alonso is struggling right now, — says Leboeuf, and it’s hard to argue. Managing stars isn’t just picking a shape. It’s answering questions like: “Why am I wider today?”, “Why is he taking the penalty?”, “Why aren’t we playing only through me?”
And yes, it’s a “nice problem to have,” but it’s still a problem. Because trophies aren’t won on passports or Transfermarkt values—they’re won by how ready the team is to grind like a team.
'What’s Next: Magic or Math?'
If you buy Leboeuf’s point, there’s not much magic here: you need structure, roles and patience. And above all, you can’t let “star power” steamroll the tactics. Otherwise Real risk sliding back into a shiny, loud, but moody era where football is the show… and the trophies go to someone else.
As for Xabi Alonso, all you can do is feel for him: he didn’t get a team, he got an advanced logic puzzle. And the only hint is this—football is won not by the side with the most stars, but by the one with the best system.
