Jose Mourinho is the best manager in football.

It’s hard to argue against that after the success the new Real Madrid coach achieved in the last decade (I just shuddered writing that sentence). Everywhere he goes, he wins, and he does it by snatching the moon out of the sky, drawing a big red dot in the middle, and strapping the enormous target to his own back. He’s fearless. He wants to be attacked, he wants to be loathed. He revels in infamy. And that attitude, that ruthless kill or be killed attitude, is what’s made him the most sought-after coach in the world. Everyone wants (and wants to be) Mourinho.

Except Arsene Wenger.

Ever since the former Chelsea manager pulled off a magnificent hat-trick this past season with Inter Milan, snatching the Serie A, Italian Cup and Champions League titles, I’ve become obsessed with who he is, what he represents, what makes him tick, and, most importantly, how (if) our manager can achieve the same results with entirely different clockwork. Both men have extraordinary gears working in their brains, churning out tactics and theories and philosophies that become the very tick-and-tock of the club they represent, but Mourinho and Wenger are polar opposites. The way they approach constructing a team, training a team, and preparing for opponents is completely different.

Mourinho is the ultimate tactician, fine-tuning his mechanics for each battle. We saw Inter Milan completely dismantle the same Barcelona team that ran us out of the Champions League a few weeks earlier. Mourinho did it because he adjusted, he did it because he was willing to adapt. His teams are football chameleons, changing their colors to blend in to whatever background they need to survive. That’s why I never considered the possibility of a Mourinho loss in the Champions League final. He had the time to prepare for Bayern Munich, he had time to sculpt his masterpiece. It comes down to the way he assembles his teams, bringing in players who are painfully hungry and willing to evolve, and the way he uses the individual parts within the team to unleash his “Rube Goldberg” machine.

Wenger, however, is the stubborn tactician, grasping onto his ideology and refusing to acknowledge his critics. And you know what? He’s been right so often that it nearly justifies his stance. We are so lucky to be so good that we often forget how good we are (dear lord, that couldn’t have made sense to anyone but me). But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive to be better, that we shouldn’t want to breach the gates and win the Premier League or the Champions League. Yes, perennially finishing in the top four and automatically qualifying for the Champions League for the last 14 years is a marvelous achievement and should never be diminished or belittled, but if our club (and our manager) truly seeks greatness, neither should be satisfied with “told you so” vindication.

Wenger must learn to be more like Mourinho

What Arsenal’s manager has going for him that Mourinho doesn’t, however, is sustainability. He breeds players and systematically manages the club’s finances with great oversight and vision. Wenger should be lauded for the football success he’s had in concert with the financial trophies he’s captured. Our club is, from a business standpoint, poised for long-term success that very few teams around the world can claim. I’m proud of that financial stability, I’m proud of the financial philosophy of the club and the manager, that we resist the temptation to join the pathetic ranks of Chelsea, Manchester City, and Real Madrid in drenching ourselves in sweaty debt for short-term glory.

Wenger’s managed to field winning teams for the last decade without having to spend absurd money to do it. It’s actually pretty incredible, especially when you look at how much other clubs have spent and still failed, but at the end of the day, football is about winning trophies. It’s the only absolute that can accurately define success. And unless Wenger is willing to let go of his obstinate, righteous charge for “pure” football, I fear that may be his final legacy: A miserly bookkeeper too stubborn to spend his wealth.

But Wenger’s problems aren’t just tactical, they’re directly tied to his insistence on molding unformed clay into Berninian sculptures. It’s become his mania, his white whale, and, ultimately, his downfall. Wenger is convinced he can single-handedly revolutionize the sport, that he can nurture a horde of freshly-hatched birds and turn them into deadly hunters. But without the requisite experience left in the club to teach our players the mentality of the hunter, they end up with the talons but lack the murderous intellect.

“I like players at the end of their careers,” Mourinho said. “I love to have some players who are 33 or 34 years old. They are players who you buy and you do not recover the money, but if they give you good performances for two or three years, you’ve got your money’s worth.”

Contrast that with Wenger’s youth policy and the two managers couldn’t be further apart. Mourinho finds players who have something to play for, something bigger than a paycheck, fame, a fancy car, or a large-chested WAG. They’ve experienced all the highs and lows of newfound wealth and, most of them at least, have moved on to the core of why they played football in the first place: To win. It takes age to understand that, to get to that point. Sure, there are some players, like our very own captain Cesc Fabregas, who are fully cognizant of their purpose before their 30s. But what Mourinho seeks are redeemers, and he fills his team with players who are willing to sacrifice their own personal glory, or maybe they’ve simply grown tired of personal glory, to win as a team. He convinces individuals to play as a whole. To attack as a whole and defend as a whole. And his trophies validate his methodology.

Wenger brought that redemption to Arsenal this past season when he resigned Sol Campbell. Most people thought it was a gentlemen’s handshake between old friends, a last gasp for an aging veteran, but it turned out to be a defining moment in the season for Arsenal. We saw Sol Campbell, a 35-year-old defender who’d been out of competitive football for 14 months, take complete control of the team with powerful displays in the back line. He anchored Arsenal, not just with his play, but with his mentality. He stood up for Aaron Ramsey when Ryan Shawcross busted his leg. He stood up to Tottenham fans with a fantastic defensive performance on the road. He became the captain when the captain went down. And you know why? Because he’s been there. He’s failed and coped with failure. He’s shrugged adversity off his broad shoulders. He’s spent lavishly, made the reckless decisions of youth, left for greener pastures only to return to his rightful home years later. Sol Campbell knows what his priorities are now, both as a man and a footballer, and that focus and confidence is what our team has sorely lacked for the last five years. Campbell is willing to work harder than anyone else in training and on the field because he knows how precious it is to even have a contract. He refused to settle for mediocrity, refused to be beaten down, outhustled, or outworked.

You certainly couldn’t say that for the rest of the team.

Mourinho’s got method to his brilliance. He didn’t stumble into it at Porto, Chelsea, or Inter Milan, and he’s certainly not stumbling into it at Real Madrid. He knows how to win, he knows who wants to win (players like Sol Campbell), and he knows what it takes to motivate and manipulate all the pieces on his chessboard. For all his smarmy arrogance and narcissistic adoration, Jose Mourinho is a genius because of his tactical humility. His ego is justified by his modesty.

I do believe in Arsene Wenger, and I believe in his own brilliance, but Arsene needs more Mourinho.