The first training session under Thomas Tuchel left England’s players with a reaction that said more than any tactical diagram could. “That’s what an elite environment is supposed to feel like,” one player reportedly told teammates. It wasn’t a knock on Gareth Southgate — the squad still holds deep respect for their former manager. But the difference was immediate. The system was sharper, with more intricate passing triangles and a pressing structure that felt like club-level sophistication.
Tuchel, meanwhile, was buzzing. Walking through the team’s Kansas City base last week, he stopped players as they passed, energy building toward Wednesday’s World Cup opener against Croatia in Dallas. He’s the kind of coach who grabs you by the arm, laughs easily, and hugs his players. Multiple squad members describe him as “a laugh.” One even noted he’s joked with players about their love lives.
There’s irony in all this warmth. The England manager’s role has long been called the “impossible job” — a title that has crushed Graham Taylor, drained Kevin Keegan, and left Sir Alf Ramsey feeling a “loneliness” that follows a bad tournament exit. So how does a German become the man smiling through it all?
Partly because Tuchel doesn’t carry the same weight. He isn’t burdened by the “state of the nation” stuff that consumed Southgate. He doesn’t see this as a vocation — he sees a talented squad with a real shot at a World Cup. That clarity, he says, comes from what author Simon Sinek calls “clarity of purpose.” Nothing offers that like a trophy.
Tuchel’s love affair with England started in 2021 at Chelsea. He still chuckles about one early Covid-era match against Sheffield United, where empty stands let him hear every word of Chris Wilder shouting “F**king Burkey” at Oliver Burke. “It was always f**king Burkey,” Tuchel later laughed. That was real football. He dreamed then of winning everything at Chelsea and maybe, someday, taking the England job. It seemed distant when he left Stamford Bridge in 2022, but by summer 2024 he knew he didn’t want another super-club cycle.
The FA’s approach that September surprised him — but it made instant sense. The rhythms of international football suited his life. He loves London, zipping around on a Lime bike, stopping at Soho gastropubs, occasionally sipping a half-pint of Guinness. He celebrated a birthday with a Colin the Caterpillar cake. He’s become friendly with restaurant owners and musicians. For a man who wanted to stay close to the Premier League without the daily grind, this was perfect.
There’s a debate about whether England should hire a foreign coach. But that foreignness is exactly why Tuchel is thriving. He’s unencumbered by history. He watches this World Cup with “electricity,” clutching a copy of Pete Davies’ book All Played Out: the Full Story of Italia ’90 — he pretended to be Chris Waddle in his garden as a teenager. “This was something magical,” he said last week. “When you feel that you’re alive.”
Many predecessors know that feeling can be killed by one goal. For now, Tuchel only knows the joy. It maybe took a German to remind England what that feels like.
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