In 2007, Valdano wrote a column in Marca -- the Spanish sports daily -- suggesting that Rafael Benitez and Jose Mourinho were ushering in a new, attritional era in football. That tactical development, Valdano argued, ousted individual expression in favour of the mundanity of the collective. Chelsea and Liverpool had just met in the semifinal of the Champions League, with Mourinho and Benitez in the respective dugouts.

"Put a s--- hanging from a stick in the middle of this passionate, crazy stadium [Anfield], and people will tell you it's a work of art. It's not. It's a shit hanging from a stick," Valdano stung. He saw Liverpool's stodginess as a betrayal of the club's history.

That is the quotation that has endured in the public consciousness. In fact, Valdano was 150 words over his limit and with the deadline looming, sacrificed nuance in favour of pithiness. Yet he made another, more pertinent point later in the article, albeit with less potent imagery.

Neither Benitez nor Mourinho had been successful footballers. Mourinho tried to emulate his father, Felix, in pursuing professional football, but had focussed his attention on coaching by the time he was 22. Similarly, Benitez had retired from an unremarkable career in the Spanish lower leagues by his mid-twenties. Valdano suggested that their lack of success as players shaped their profiles as managers.

"Those who do not have the talent to make it as players do not believe in the talent of players, they do not believe in the ability to improvise in order to win football matches," Valdano postured.

"In short, Benitez and Mourinho are exactly the kinds of coaches that Benitez and Mourinho would have needed to have made it as players."

Valdano teased out a psychological context to the broadly similar approaches of the two managers. Benitez and Mourinho operated on the periphery as players. They were the kids with their noses pressed against the wire fencing from the outside, watching the talented players dominate the ball within. They could not stand out as individuals, but they could function as part of the collective in a rigid system. So they project their own limitations on to the players they manage. They create the team that they needed, but never had.

It is straightforward to find individual examples that challenge Valdano's thesis. Arsene Wenger had an unremarkable playing career yet has gone on to coach technical, aesthetic teams. The vogue school of young career-coaches in Germany -- headed by Julian Nagelsmann -- also provide a counter-example.

But let's indulge Valdano. Let's keep rolling with the assumption that for some managers at least, the theory holds true.

Zinedine Zidane falls on the other side of Valdano's coin. Whereas Benitez and Mourinho did not make it as professional footballers, Zidane marked a generation. His game was based on grace, intuition, and skill that verged on artistry. He won a World Cup, European Cups, and a packed mantelpiece of league titles. While a rigid system may have helped Benitez and Mourinho, it would have inhibited Zidane.

If, as Valdano implies, managers adopt ideologies that would have allowed them to flourish as players, then Zidane would form a team based around the ability of the individual to find solutions. He would not create a Summer of Love, do-your-thang vibe that would grant players total liberty. There would be a loose tactical framework. But not to the extent that it would stifle expression. A faith in talent would be sacrosanct.

There are similarities between that rough sketch and Zidane's managerial blueprint at Real Madrid. Perhaps, for Zidane, Valdano's theory holds some weight. That is not necessarily an appraisal -- positive or negative -- but an observation, and an attempt to decipher what makes Zidane tick as a manager. It isn't always immediately clear.

There are certain characteristics of the current Real Madrid squad that Zidane, as a player, would have licked his lips at.

Isco's free role behind Cristiano Ronaldo and how Karim Benzema allows him to float into pockets of space or drop deep to collect the ball. Zidane would have fancied that.

"Why put another layer of gold paint on the Bentley when you are losing the entire engine?"

That was the question Zidane asked in 2003, when Florentino Perez decided to sell Claude Makelele and replace him with David Beckham. It is not surprising. Makelele's efficiency and positional intelligence allowed Zidane to be more adventurous, to move with impunity. Now, as a coach, Zidane has an unwavering faith in Casemiro, who plays a similar role to the diminutive France international who went on to star for Chelsea. Perhaps that stems from a realisation that like Makelele, Casemiro would compliment him perfectly.

The obvious risk for a manager like Zidane -- who was a sensational player -- in creating a team that would have allowed him to flourish is that not many players are as good as him. In the current Real Madrid squad, Ronaldo is probably the only comparable figure in terms of a natural gift for the game.

Whether or not Zidane has consciously created a team that would have suited his attributes as a player, a title every 14 matches since taking over in Jan. 2016 attest that his opaque approach is working.