There has been something oddly narcotic and moreish about the drip‑drip of fresh Pep Guardiola content either side of the start of the new Premier League season. Everything dies, baby, that’s a fact. But four‑part Amazon Prime documentaries make angels of us all.
So we have continued to feast on the Pep-at-City visuals: dead jeopardy, reheated beefs, the uplifting team talks of a departed manager to the departed players of a departed team, and moments that often feel far more gripping than the daily churn of what we must, out of habit, call the real world. The thought occurred watching all this: has the Premier League found its Tupac? Is Pep just going to keep on doing this, dropping new material, fresh hits, posthumous platinum albums?
A bald, thin charismatic man who keeps on releasing his lost tapes. We have exactly the thing, sir. Is he even actually dead?
Probably this won’t happen. But a profound absence is still a profound presence at moments like these. The ghosts continue to pull the strings.
This weekend was the first of the new Premier League season. More significantly, it was also the first of the post‑Pep era. And this has been a genuine era, 10 years in the game and an entire tactical culture shift in the making.
Unsurprisingly, there was an odd sense of lightness across those nine fixtures on Friday through to Sunday, of old bonds cast aside, even a little giddiness. The chair by the door is empty. Let’s all just rip it up a bit, shall we?
Extract — continue reading at the source.
