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Growing up as a child, he was a Barcelona fan. How could he not have been? He had witnessed the success and glory of Cruyff's dream team, winning it all and then some — it encapsulated all of what was beautiful about the sport, and it was impossible to resist. So when the opportunity arose for Mikel Arteta to trial with La Masia, naturally, he accepted in the blink of an eye.
Young and bold at the age of 15, and the two friends with whom he had travelled to Barcelona both dropping out, Mikel searched for new players to meet and to learn from. Though he made an initial effort to get to know everyone equally, he was instantly drawn to the newly appointed captain in Pep Guardiola. Mikel, of course, had previously seen Pep play and had admired him as a fellow midfielder. Now they would be able to train under the same coach.
As academy students, they often had the opportunity to train with Barcelona's first team. He decided to introduce himself on one such occasion during an afternoon training session. Outside of matches, Pep was quiet, a bit distant, and his eyebrows were perpetually furrowed in what seemed like concern. Or perhaps it was simply him being lost in thought. As Pep was doing some stretches on his own, Mikel approached him, kicking a ball as he went.
"Pep Guardiola," he called.
Pep looked at him. "Hi."
"It's nice to meet you," he said in Catalan. His grasp on the language was shaky but improving. "My name is Mikel." He thought he should demonstrate an amount of respect to the team's captain, so he extended his hand. Pep shook it firmly. He liked how it felt when their skin touched.
"I'm at the academy here, I don't know if you knew," Mikel continued. "But I'm very happy to be training with you, and hopefully I can learn a lot from you." That should do it for a first introduction.
"You don't make eye contact when you talk to me."
"Huh?" Mikel whipped his head up from where he had been staring at the ball by his feet. His first instinct was to protest, yet he realized that he had thereby just proven Pep right, and so pinched his lips tight.
"You don't look at me when you talk to me," Pep repeated. "Don't you want to learn from me? First, you can look at me."
Feeling slightly defiant upon hearing his words — couldn't he have at least been a bit more welcoming? — Mikel forced himself to meet Pep's gaze. Pep gazed equally back, but said nothing. Not knowing what to do, Mikel began to grow uncomfortable. Seconds were ticking by. Or was it minutes? His skin felt tingly. He didn't know why he was feeling this way. Finally, with the discomfort too much to bear, Mikel broke eye contact to once again look downward. To what he knew was stable.
"I'm sorry," he heard himself say. He didn't know what he had done wrong. Wasn't his introduction fine? He felt flustered from emotions he couldn't quite identify. Then a hand gently patted his shoulder once, twice. It caught him off guard, but the touch was a small comfort.
"Show me what you can do with the ball," Pep said, then.
To Mikel's ears, the words were a warm invitation. This was a language he knew how to speak, one he wouldn't mess up invariably when meeting someone new.
Pep, Mikel soon came to realize, was much more open and talkative than his first impression had suggested. He had approached Mikel afterwards and begun discussing the intended and predicted movements of a holding midfielder, as if the initial awkwardness had not happened at all. Mikel had nodded along, interrupting here and there to ask questions or for clarification. Their successive talks continued in much the same manner. Mikel tried his best to always look Pep in the eyes when he spoke, but the discomfort didn't go away, and perhaps it never would. (Later, Pep would tell Mikel that it was a good habit to maintain for others, but he didn't need to keep up the facade for him.) Despite the differences in age and experience, the two quickly struck up a close friendship.
He found that Pep's vision of football matches was advanced beyond many of the people he knew, and that they shared surprisingly similar thought patterns. Pep liked predictability and perfection. Mikel liked set structures and routines. Mikel was not good with change, and Pep told him that it was sometimes necessary to succeed. Pep saw the big picture yet somehow also all the little details, tweaking them so they moved like clockwork. His ideas were usually grand and complex, but Mikel found that he intuitively understood them all.
Mikel couldn't quite place his finger on it, but he felt connected with Pep in a way that he hadn't experienced before with anyone else. Perhaps it was the deep way in which they understood each other's thought processes. Perhaps it was the way that when they spoke, it was as if they were the only two people to exist. In a world where Mikel felt like he had to calculate his every word and action, always attempting to do the right thing in others' eyes, being with Pep felt like he could simply be himself.
"So you want to become a manager?"
"After I retire, yes."
"I think that makes sense," Mikel commented, hands folded in his lap. His fingers moved idly, fidgeting. "But you still have a few more years as a player, don't you?" He knew of Pep's recent injury struggles, but he was sure that someone like Pep could always bounce back.
"I am going to manage Barcelona."
Mikel looked at him in surprise.
Seemingly noticing his expression, Pep smiled and continued. "Of course, that's just my plan. And I don't want to retire yet. There is still so much more I can learn."
It was another thing Mikel admired about him — that after all these years of serving Barcelona, Pep was still determined to do more, to learn more. He was always focused on the right things to improve as a player and a person.
"I'm going on loan," Mikel said then.
It was Pep's turn to be surprised. "Where?"
"To Paris. They don't think I can play here anymore." It was true. With each new midfield addition — a midfield that included Pep himself — Mikel was pushed further and further down the pecking order. The club knew, and he also knew, that if he wanted to flourish in his career, it would not be at Barcelona. He had come to La Masia with a dream, but it was not meant to be.
Pep said nothing at first. He likely understood the situation as well as Mikel himself did, being as observant and intuitive as he was. Instead, he stood up and enveloped Mikel in a hug. Mikel clung tightly to him, burying his face in his neck.
"Will you still be here when I come back?"
"Yes."
It would be the first and only time Pep lied to him.
Mikel heard of the news when it broke. Barcelona captain Pep Guardiola was set to leave after seventeen years. At first, he was confused. Didn't Pep say he'd be there when Mikel came back from loan? Didn't he say he had more years of his career left in him? Where would he go next? What would he do?
The news spread like wildfire, even in the locker rooms of France. He listened to what people had to say: some were sad, some respected his decision. Others spread rumors, much worse than anything Mikel could have imagined. No, they simply couldn't be true. What did anyone here even know about Pep Guardiola? He could feel indignance building within him on his friend's behalf.
He had never been good at regulating his anger. These were emotions that bubbled up out of control in his chest: it could be a response to a provocative phrase meant to incense, or it could be as simple as someone messing up his duly set routine for the day. One time he had snapped at a teammate who had moved his shinpads over in order to sit down. Just a mere section over, and he had nearly lost his mind. He didn't like to think about these occasions too much, as it was embarrassing looking back on them with a clear head, but he simply couldn't control it.
Mikel stormed away from where he had finished yelling at whoever was stirring up the rumors. He didn't know and didn't care. He just needed to be somewhere alone, where he could calm down and clear his head. Sitting beneath the shade of a large tree, he made himself small until his body felt like his own again. He couldn't help but think once again about Pep, who had sat with him after multiple of his meltdowns to ensure that he was okay.
He remembered, then, that they had exchanged cell phone numbers before he had left for Paris.
The other line picked up on the third ring. Mikel did not wait for him to speak first.
"Pep," Mikel said immediately. "You're really leaving? Is it true?"
Though he knew the question was silly, he had to hear the answer spoken by Pep's own voice. It wasn't often that Mikel's voice carried any significant inflection, but by his standards, he knew that he sounded a right mess.
"Yes," Pep confirmed, and Mikel's heart sank. "My last game will be in June."
That would mean Mikel couldn't make it. They had the Intertoto Cup to compete in until August. He tried not to sound more upset than he probably already did. "Where will you go?" he asked instead.
"I don't know yet. A new country, maybe Italy."
Italy was far.
"The rumors..." Mikel hesitated. "I tried to tell them they were wrong."
Pep was silent for a moment. "...Thank you."
After returning from loan, the Barcelona he knew had changed. And Mikel was not good with change. Many players had left, and new ones had joined. It had been his boyhood club, but there was not much left for him here. He would leave, and unlike Pep, he would not return.
It was many years later when Pep was appointed as manager of the Barcelona B team. He and Mikel had indeed kept in touch, albeit rather infrequently, so Mikel was unsurprised when the position was officially announced. He remembered, all that time ago, when Pep had first told him he wanted to coach Barcelona. Back then, Mikel had had full faith in him. Someone like Pep knew how to work in order to get what he wanted.
So Pep worked with Barcelona B, later moving to the senior team. Mikel remained in the Premier League at Everton, where he had settled in rather nicely. He was focused on his own league and matches, yet he couldn't help but hear news of Spain, and title after title after title. He was proud. Though Pep had initially started out as Mikel's role model, they had soon become friends. And for such a special friend as Pep, Mikel was very glad to see him succeed.
Pep called him, one night, in 2012. The sound of the ringtone surprised Mikel because Pep had grown increasingly busy as the years went on, with little time to talk to anyone. He understood with no hard feelings, of course — and he was also busy in his first season at Arsenal — but he could not deny the happiness he felt when he saw the caller ID.
"Mikel," Pep said. "Do you have any information on Chelsea?"
Mikel answered freely, the words flowing out of him as he recounted Chelsea's best players, formations, and positions. The analysis came naturally to him. Pep listened, only stopping to ask questions here and there. It reminded Mikel of their playing days, but only this time he was the one to explain everything.
"You would be a good manager," Pep said eventually. "Really. I always thought so. We are similar."
Mikel paused, flattered but unsure how to respond.
"Have you thought about it?"
"Yes," he finally said. "When I am done, I want to at least continue being involved with football."
"You have the mind to become a manager," Pep responded.
Mikel uttered a small thank-you.
"No, I should be the one to thank you. Bye, Mikel."
Pep was right. He and Mikel were similar. Hadn't Mikel thought the same all those years ago? He had admired Pep's philosophy because it resonated with his own. They even handled their emotions in the same ways. Mikel knew that he had a strong tactical mind; everything about strategizing just made sense to him. Furthermore, he genuinely enjoyed meeting and working with players. He had learned long ago that growing alongside other people was what enabled you to succeed the most. And hearing confirmation from Pep, whom he had idolized and who had now become a very successful manager at a very successful club, was possibly the push in the direction that he needed.
There was still time to think about that, however. Right now, he would focus on seeing out his contract at Arsenal.
In his last season in London — at the age of 34, Mikel had already decided he would not renew — it was announced that Pep Guardiola would become the manager of Manchester City starting the following season. Once again, this did not surprise him. There were always rumors floating around, and it made sense that Manchester City would want the best possible manager they could get. What did come as a surprise, however, was Pep's invitation for Mikel to join his coaching staff.
"I would like for you to join me at Manchester City," he said.
Mikel had just called to inform Pep that he planned to retire from playing at the conclusion of the season. He had also told a select few others, such as his coach Arsène Wenger, who had already offered him a position coaching the Arsenal Academy. He had to admit that it was highly tempting to stay at Arsenal, the club he had grown to love immensely.
"I trust your ability, Mikel. And you will not regret it."
Later, he would also receive an offer from former teammate Mauricio Pochettino to join his staff at Tottenham Hotspur. All three offers had their own merits, but he could not stop Pep's words from playing over and over in his mind.
The two were reunited in person that summer, with a hug that ensured they were resuming exactly where they had left off.
Mikel had stood by Pep as a player and as a friend, but never before as a coach. Pep's behavior remained largely unchanged from what he remembered — he was able to lead the dressing room full of players with his powerful words. However, he also saw a new, more anxious side that appeared when fewer people were around and Pep could drop his guard. There were times when he completely shut down from either stress or worry, or both. Mikel stayed with him throughout it all, remembering the times when their roles had been reversed. He wanted to do something to help relax the furrows in Pep's brow, which had only intensified in the years they had been apart.
"We are equals now," he had said when Mikel had first accepted the job. "I can learn from you as much as you can learn from me."
Just like when Pep had called him in 2012, Mikel gave him everything he had to offer. By now he was very familiar with the Premier League, and England felt like his second home. He offered insights on Everton, with whom he had stayed for six years, Liverpool; whom he had grown to know very well in the Merseyside derby; Chelsea, Tottenham Hotspur, Manchester United. Even Arsenal, though it pained him slightly to have to discuss the greatest weaknesses of the players who were once his beloved teammates.
In return, Mikel was able to work with who he considered to be the current greatest manager in the world. He began to understood what worked, what didn't work. It was an initial surprise to learn that what seemed like the best strategy on paper was not always what produced the best results on the pitch. Every day, he felt like he was able to learn something new. He truly enjoyed this position, two years and multiple titles passing by in a flash.
With the departure of Arsène Wenger left question marks over who would take up his position. The Arsenal board had personally asked Mikel if he would be willing to become the new head coach.
"Will you go?" asked Pep.
He would not lie and say that the offer was not tempting. It was an honor to even be considered for the job. But Mikel felt that he was still relatively inexperienced — especially to follow in the footsteps of someone as great as Arsène — and that he knew he could do more. Together, with Pep.
"There is still so much more I can learn," Mikel said. Memories of the Barcelona changing rooms came to mind.
A small grin began to form on Pep's face that was mirrored on his own.
A year later, the call came again. And this time, he felt ready.
When Mikel informed Pep of his desire to accept the newly vacant position, he did not seem at all surprised.
"I knew one day this would come," Pep said. "You love Arsenal."
He did.
"I know you will do well. So you can go."
Mikel knew that accepting the position as Arsenal head coach would essentially cement him as one of Pep's rivals. They could no longer spend so much time together, be it discussing tactics or simply relaxing as friends. It would be difficult to be on his own again, and even more difficult to leave someone so close to him, but he was ready to take the plunge.
They hugged, again. If either of them shed a tear, they did not mention it.
In Mikel's first year, Arsenal eliminated Manchester City on the way to winning the FA Cup. It had been a turbulent season, the COVID-19 pandemic disrupting Mikel's plans after barely three months. They had finished eighth in the league, a historic low for the club in the twenty-first century. Pep's team had also suffered their first league title loss since his first season, so it seemed like it was a tough time for everyone involved. Despite this, he was happy with the trophy.
He soon learned that he quite disliked press conferences. He had participated in some interviews and the like during his time as a player, but as a manager he was essentially required to appear at least twice a week in front of the media. He didn't appreciate the amount of cameras and microphones shoved in his face — after a difficult match, he would much rather go home and talk to no one — but he had to deal with it. Part of living life was adapting to and coming to terms with things that brought you difficulty. To this day, he still had trouble maintaining prolonged eye contact.
The second year, Arsenal finished eighth again. Mikel knew there would be people calling for his head, but this did not deter him. He had a clear plan in mind. He had actually had it since the day he rejoined the club, but the unforeseen circumstances of the first season had forced him to adapt. He knew that if he was allowed to build his team and his vision exactly the way he wanted it, he could bring the club back to high levels of success. And he would listen to no one who told him otherwise.
He still saw Pep occasionally, though their discussions were very limited. Their goals no longer aligned with each other, and they both knew they could not divulge information to someone who was supposed to be an opponent. However, he did text Pep to congratulate him on winning the Premier League for the third time.
And then the fourth, and then the fifth.
It hurt. After years of building and improving his team, Mikel had truly believed they had what it took to be able to win the league this season. They had been unlucky with certain injuries, no doubt, and Mikel was not good with change. He wanted everything to be just the way he envisioned it, and unexpected injuries prevented that. Despite this, he was sure there was no one else to blame for the loss but themselves.
As far as managerial careers were concerned, he was still relatively inexperienced. Perhaps it was his own fault, for being so change-resistant that he sometimes ended up blinded to the best course of action. Or perhaps he had not motivated his players well enough. They were young players, the majority of them with no idea what it was like to be in a title race. Mikel thought he had understood the pressure of one, having witnessed Liverpool come second place by a mere eleven millimeters. But regardless, he had failed.
"You didn't fail." Pep spoke in Catalan, like they always did. He had invited Mikel to meet up after Manchester City had all but been crowned champions after facing Chelsea. "The goal for Arsenal was to get top 4."
Mikel knew that, theoretically, Pep was right. After missing out the previous season, his original aim had indeed been to firmly secure a place in the Champions League. But it did not make the pain of losing out on a title any less.
"You will learn from this, and you will come back. There is still so much more you can learn."
Mikel had never been good at expressing his emotions. Instead of saying anything, he let his tears be absorbed by the fabric of Pep's sweater. Pep gripped onto him tightly, holding them close together in reassurance and in strength.
They had both grown considerably since the time they had first met. But somewhere deep down inside, they were still the young boys from Barcelona: one with the world already at his feet, and one chasing the faintest glimpse of a dream.