You only need two bits of context to understand this article. Firstly, Paris Saint-Germain coach Luis Enrique is unique, in the full sense of the word. Talented, energised, often scathingly caustic, messianic, a football evangelist and one hell of a good friend if he lets you in.
Secondly, he has so little regard for the media that he’ll often tell journalists to their faces how negative, uninformed or biased they are. So much so that he himself suggested the title of our documentary series about him: No Tenéis Ni **** Idea (You Have No F****** Idea).
During an 18-month process, Luis Enrique allowed us to film with him at home and at work, or out on his beloved bike, while his family backed that up with a great deal of further generous time. He, and they, shared private footage of tactical planning, dressing-room team talks, one-on-one tutoring with Kylian Mbappé and, above all, home movies of their darling daughter Xana, who died aged nine of bone cancer in 2019.
When you watch You Have No F****** Idea, which I hope you do, you’ll see three incident-packed episodes charting his first season in Paris. I believe we’ve created an honest portrait of a man whose irreducible belief in his playing philosophy might make him prone to burning out or antagonising those who know him, but who induces massive loyalty in people – like the small team at ZoomSport Films who first sat down with him for coffee in January 2023.
It was meant to be a 30-minute pitch. After two and a half hours, we exited the restaurant transfixed. I’d known Luis Enrique for many years and across a long series of interviews during which, I knew, we’d connected. I’m also caustic, rude when I think it’s needed, energetic, noisy and, according to some, charismatically passionate about various subjects, not least my unashamed love for football. We had things in common.
That afternoon set the tone as Lucho stunned us with his anecdotes, his vigour, his analysis of football, his career and his life, and then made it quite clear how little he wanted to open up, and how little he valued celebrity or even explaining himself. He was basically saying, “No thanks, guys.”
Him being him and ZoomSport being ZoomSport, that was the cue to start filming anyway. Gracias, Lucho! He was out of work at the time, resistant but curious and, honestly, we believed we could seduce him. I warned him he’d be drawn to the process… and he was.
What I can say, retrospectively, is that I wish everyone had a Luis Enrique in their life. In the midst of a turbulent first season, he gave us time, insight, generosity, humour, freedom to film and, above all, trust. What a privilege. Two or three things will last with me all my life.
The first is the night we showed him and his family the finished product. We were tense: sure, director Duncan McMath’s storytelling vision had made something of beauty and candour. But his, and their, opinions mattered most.
At the end of the night, after some laughs and tears, he led us outside and told us, “Lads, I admit I was a little apprehensive, but I’ll give you ten out of ten – you’ve shown me honestly and produced exactly what you promised. We all loved it.”
That was magical. But the most moving experience was how Lucho and his family talked about dealing with the loss of Xana, how they’ve coped, what they feel now and how dedicated they are to the success of the Xana Foundation, which helps parents in similar situations.
I remember how hesitant we were to ask about Xana in our early interviews until he began to expound on life, death, love, family and Xana’s continuing presence in their life. As well as deeply poignant and full of wisdom, I hope those parts of our series will go on to promote the Xana Foundation and help people’s understanding of potential ways to deal with grief.
Not your average football documentary, right? Not your average football man, I promise you. Now, I hope, we all have a better f****** idea than we did before meeting Luis Enrique.
You only need two bits of context to understand this article. Firstly, Paris Saint-Germain coach Luis Enrique is unique, in the full sense of the word. Talented, energised, often scathingly caustic, messianic, a football evangelist and one hell of a good friend if he lets you in.
Secondly, he has so little regard for the media that he’ll often tell journalists to their faces how negative, uninformed or biased they are. So much so that he himself suggested the title of our documentary series about him: No Tenéis Ni **** Idea (You Have No F****** Idea).
During an 18-month process, Luis Enrique allowed us to film with him at home and at work, or out on his beloved bike, while his family backed that up with a great deal of further generous time. He, and they, shared private footage of tactical planning, dressing-room team talks, one-on-one tutoring with Kylian Mbappé and, above all, home movies of their darling daughter Xana, who died aged nine of bone cancer in 2019.
When you watch You Have No F****** Idea, which I hope you do, you’ll see three incident-packed episodes charting his first season in Paris. I believe we’ve created an honest portrait of a man whose irreducible belief in his playing philosophy might make him prone to burning out or antagonising those who know him, but who induces massive loyalty in people – like the small team at ZoomSport Films who first sat down with him for coffee in January 2023.
It was meant to be a 30-minute pitch. After two and a half hours, we exited the restaurant transfixed. I’d known Luis Enrique for many years and across a long series of interviews during which, I knew, we’d connected. I’m also caustic, rude when I think it’s needed, energetic, noisy and, according to some, charismatically passionate about various subjects, not least my unashamed love for football. We had things in common.
That afternoon set the tone as Lucho stunned us with his anecdotes, his vigour, his analysis of football, his career and his life, and then made it quite clear how little he wanted to open up, and how little he valued celebrity or even explaining himself. He was basically saying, “No thanks, guys.”
Him being him and ZoomSport being ZoomSport, that was the cue to start filming anyway. Gracias, Lucho! He was out of work at the time, resistant but curious and, honestly, we believed we could seduce him. I warned him he’d be drawn to the process… and he was.
What I can say, retrospectively, is that I wish everyone had a Luis Enrique in their life. In the midst of a turbulent first season, he gave us time, insight, generosity, humour, freedom to film and, above all, trust. What a privilege. Two or three things will last with me all my life.
The first is the night we showed him and his family the finished product. We were tense: sure, director Duncan McMath’s storytelling vision had made something of beauty and candour. But his, and their, opinions mattered most.
At the end of the night, after some laughs and tears, he led us outside and told us, “Lads, I admit I was a little apprehensive, but I’ll give you ten out of ten – you’ve shown me honestly and produced exactly what you promised. We all loved it.”
That was magical. But the most moving experience was how Lucho and his family talked about dealing with the loss of Xana, how they’ve coped, what they feel now and how dedicated they are to the success of the Xana Foundation, which helps parents in similar situations.
I remember how hesitant we were to ask about Xana in our early interviews until he began to expound on life, death, love, family and Xana’s continuing presence in their life. As well as deeply poignant and full of wisdom, I hope those parts of our series will go on to promote the Xana Foundation and help people’s understanding of potential ways to deal with grief.
Not your average football documentary, right? Not your average football man, I promise you. Now, I hope, we all have a better f****** idea than we did before meeting Luis Enrique.
You only need two bits of context to understand this article. Firstly, Paris Saint-Germain coach Luis Enrique is unique, in the full sense of the word. Talented, energised, often scathingly caustic, messianic, a football evangelist and one hell of a good friend if he lets you in.
Secondly, he has so little regard for the media that he’ll often tell journalists to their faces how negative, uninformed or biased they are. So much so that he himself suggested the title of our documentary series about him: No Tenéis Ni **** Idea (You Have No F****** Idea).
During an 18-month process, Luis Enrique allowed us to film with him at home and at work, or out on his beloved bike, while his family backed that up with a great deal of further generous time. He, and they, shared private footage of tactical planning, dressing-room team talks, one-on-one tutoring with Kylian Mbappé and, above all, home movies of their darling daughter Xana, who died aged nine of bone cancer in 2019.
When you watch You Have No F****** Idea, which I hope you do, you’ll see three incident-packed episodes charting his first season in Paris. I believe we’ve created an honest portrait of a man whose irreducible belief in his playing philosophy might make him prone to burning out or antagonising those who know him, but who induces massive loyalty in people – like the small team at ZoomSport Films who first sat down with him for coffee in January 2023.
It was meant to be a 30-minute pitch. After two and a half hours, we exited the restaurant transfixed. I’d known Luis Enrique for many years and across a long series of interviews during which, I knew, we’d connected. I’m also caustic, rude when I think it’s needed, energetic, noisy and, according to some, charismatically passionate about various subjects, not least my unashamed love for football. We had things in common.
That afternoon set the tone as Lucho stunned us with his anecdotes, his vigour, his analysis of football, his career and his life, and then made it quite clear how little he wanted to open up, and how little he valued celebrity or even explaining himself. He was basically saying, “No thanks, guys.”
Him being him and ZoomSport being ZoomSport, that was the cue to start filming anyway. Gracias, Lucho! He was out of work at the time, resistant but curious and, honestly, we believed we could seduce him. I warned him he’d be drawn to the process… and he was.
What I can say, retrospectively, is that I wish everyone had a Luis Enrique in their life. In the midst of a turbulent first season, he gave us time, insight, generosity, humour, freedom to film and, above all, trust. What a privilege. Two or three things will last with me all my life.
The first is the night we showed him and his family the finished product. We were tense: sure, director Duncan McMath’s storytelling vision had made something of beauty and candour. But his, and their, opinions mattered most.
At the end of the night, after some laughs and tears, he led us outside and told us, “Lads, I admit I was a little apprehensive, but I’ll give you ten out of ten – you’ve shown me honestly and produced exactly what you promised. We all loved it.”
That was magical. But the most moving experience was how Lucho and his family talked about dealing with the loss of Xana, how they’ve coped, what they feel now and how dedicated they are to the success of the Xana Foundation, which helps parents in similar situations.
I remember how hesitant we were to ask about Xana in our early interviews until he began to expound on life, death, love, family and Xana’s continuing presence in their life. As well as deeply poignant and full of wisdom, I hope those parts of our series will go on to promote the Xana Foundation and help people’s understanding of potential ways to deal with grief.
Not your average football documentary, right? Not your average football man, I promise you. Now, I hope, we all have a better f****** idea than we did before meeting Luis Enrique.
You only need two bits of context to understand this article. Firstly, Paris Saint-Germain coach Luis Enrique is unique, in the full sense of the word. Talented, energised, often scathingly caustic, messianic, a football evangelist and one hell of a good friend if he lets you in.
Secondly, he has so little regard for the media that he’ll often tell journalists to their faces how negative, uninformed or biased they are. So much so that he himself suggested the title of our documentary series about him: No Tenéis Ni **** Idea (You Have No F****** Idea).
During an 18-month process, Luis Enrique allowed us to film with him at home and at work, or out on his beloved bike, while his family backed that up with a great deal of further generous time. He, and they, shared private footage of tactical planning, dressing-room team talks, one-on-one tutoring with Kylian Mbappé and, above all, home movies of their darling daughter Xana, who died aged nine of bone cancer in 2019.
When you watch You Have No F****** Idea, which I hope you do, you’ll see three incident-packed episodes charting his first season in Paris. I believe we’ve created an honest portrait of a man whose irreducible belief in his playing philosophy might make him prone to burning out or antagonising those who know him, but who induces massive loyalty in people – like the small team at ZoomSport Films who first sat down with him for coffee in January 2023.
It was meant to be a 30-minute pitch. After two and a half hours, we exited the restaurant transfixed. I’d known Luis Enrique for many years and across a long series of interviews during which, I knew, we’d connected. I’m also caustic, rude when I think it’s needed, energetic, noisy and, according to some, charismatically passionate about various subjects, not least my unashamed love for football. We had things in common.
That afternoon set the tone as Lucho stunned us with his anecdotes, his vigour, his analysis of football, his career and his life, and then made it quite clear how little he wanted to open up, and how little he valued celebrity or even explaining himself. He was basically saying, “No thanks, guys.”
Him being him and ZoomSport being ZoomSport, that was the cue to start filming anyway. Gracias, Lucho! He was out of work at the time, resistant but curious and, honestly, we believed we could seduce him. I warned him he’d be drawn to the process… and he was.
What I can say, retrospectively, is that I wish everyone had a Luis Enrique in their life. In the midst of a turbulent first season, he gave us time, insight, generosity, humour, freedom to film and, above all, trust. What a privilege. Two or three things will last with me all my life.
The first is the night we showed him and his family the finished product. We were tense: sure, director Duncan McMath’s storytelling vision had made something of beauty and candour. But his, and their, opinions mattered most.
At the end of the night, after some laughs and tears, he led us outside and told us, “Lads, I admit I was a little apprehensive, but I’ll give you ten out of ten – you’ve shown me honestly and produced exactly what you promised. We all loved it.”
That was magical. But the most moving experience was how Lucho and his family talked about dealing with the loss of Xana, how they’ve coped, what they feel now and how dedicated they are to the success of the Xana Foundation, which helps parents in similar situations.
I remember how hesitant we were to ask about Xana in our early interviews until he began to expound on life, death, love, family and Xana’s continuing presence in their life. As well as deeply poignant and full of wisdom, I hope those parts of our series will go on to promote the Xana Foundation and help people’s understanding of potential ways to deal with grief.
Not your average football documentary, right? Not your average football man, I promise you. Now, I hope, we all have a better f****** idea than we did before meeting Luis Enrique.
You only need two bits of context to understand this article. Firstly, Paris Saint-Germain coach Luis Enrique is unique, in the full sense of the word. Talented, energised, often scathingly caustic, messianic, a football evangelist and one hell of a good friend if he lets you in.
Secondly, he has so little regard for the media that he’ll often tell journalists to their faces how negative, uninformed or biased they are. So much so that he himself suggested the title of our documentary series about him: No Tenéis Ni **** Idea (You Have No F****** Idea).
During an 18-month process, Luis Enrique allowed us to film with him at home and at work, or out on his beloved bike, while his family backed that up with a great deal of further generous time. He, and they, shared private footage of tactical planning, dressing-room team talks, one-on-one tutoring with Kylian Mbappé and, above all, home movies of their darling daughter Xana, who died aged nine of bone cancer in 2019.
When you watch You Have No F****** Idea, which I hope you do, you’ll see three incident-packed episodes charting his first season in Paris. I believe we’ve created an honest portrait of a man whose irreducible belief in his playing philosophy might make him prone to burning out or antagonising those who know him, but who induces massive loyalty in people – like the small team at ZoomSport Films who first sat down with him for coffee in January 2023.
It was meant to be a 30-minute pitch. After two and a half hours, we exited the restaurant transfixed. I’d known Luis Enrique for many years and across a long series of interviews during which, I knew, we’d connected. I’m also caustic, rude when I think it’s needed, energetic, noisy and, according to some, charismatically passionate about various subjects, not least my unashamed love for football. We had things in common.
That afternoon set the tone as Lucho stunned us with his anecdotes, his vigour, his analysis of football, his career and his life, and then made it quite clear how little he wanted to open up, and how little he valued celebrity or even explaining himself. He was basically saying, “No thanks, guys.”
Him being him and ZoomSport being ZoomSport, that was the cue to start filming anyway. Gracias, Lucho! He was out of work at the time, resistant but curious and, honestly, we believed we could seduce him. I warned him he’d be drawn to the process… and he was.
What I can say, retrospectively, is that I wish everyone had a Luis Enrique in their life. In the midst of a turbulent first season, he gave us time, insight, generosity, humour, freedom to film and, above all, trust. What a privilege. Two or three things will last with me all my life.
The first is the night we showed him and his family the finished product. We were tense: sure, director Duncan McMath’s storytelling vision had made something of beauty and candour. But his, and their, opinions mattered most.
At the end of the night, after some laughs and tears, he led us outside and told us, “Lads, I admit I was a little apprehensive, but I’ll give you ten out of ten – you’ve shown me honestly and produced exactly what you promised. We all loved it.”
That was magical. But the most moving experience was how Lucho and his family talked about dealing with the loss of Xana, how they’ve coped, what they feel now and how dedicated they are to the success of the Xana Foundation, which helps parents in similar situations.
I remember how hesitant we were to ask about Xana in our early interviews until he began to expound on life, death, love, family and Xana’s continuing presence in their life. As well as deeply poignant and full of wisdom, I hope those parts of our series will go on to promote the Xana Foundation and help people’s understanding of potential ways to deal with grief.
Not your average football documentary, right? Not your average football man, I promise you. Now, I hope, we all have a better f****** idea than we did before meeting Luis Enrique.
You only need two bits of context to understand this article. Firstly, Paris Saint-Germain coach Luis Enrique is unique, in the full sense of the word. Talented, energised, often scathingly caustic, messianic, a football evangelist and one hell of a good friend if he lets you in.
Secondly, he has so little regard for the media that he’ll often tell journalists to their faces how negative, uninformed or biased they are. So much so that he himself suggested the title of our documentary series about him: No Tenéis Ni **** Idea (You Have No F****** Idea).
During an 18-month process, Luis Enrique allowed us to film with him at home and at work, or out on his beloved bike, while his family backed that up with a great deal of further generous time. He, and they, shared private footage of tactical planning, dressing-room team talks, one-on-one tutoring with Kylian Mbappé and, above all, home movies of their darling daughter Xana, who died aged nine of bone cancer in 2019.
When you watch You Have No F****** Idea, which I hope you do, you’ll see three incident-packed episodes charting his first season in Paris. I believe we’ve created an honest portrait of a man whose irreducible belief in his playing philosophy might make him prone to burning out or antagonising those who know him, but who induces massive loyalty in people – like the small team at ZoomSport Films who first sat down with him for coffee in January 2023.
It was meant to be a 30-minute pitch. After two and a half hours, we exited the restaurant transfixed. I’d known Luis Enrique for many years and across a long series of interviews during which, I knew, we’d connected. I’m also caustic, rude when I think it’s needed, energetic, noisy and, according to some, charismatically passionate about various subjects, not least my unashamed love for football. We had things in common.
That afternoon set the tone as Lucho stunned us with his anecdotes, his vigour, his analysis of football, his career and his life, and then made it quite clear how little he wanted to open up, and how little he valued celebrity or even explaining himself. He was basically saying, “No thanks, guys.”
Him being him and ZoomSport being ZoomSport, that was the cue to start filming anyway. Gracias, Lucho! He was out of work at the time, resistant but curious and, honestly, we believed we could seduce him. I warned him he’d be drawn to the process… and he was.
What I can say, retrospectively, is that I wish everyone had a Luis Enrique in their life. In the midst of a turbulent first season, he gave us time, insight, generosity, humour, freedom to film and, above all, trust. What a privilege. Two or three things will last with me all my life.
The first is the night we showed him and his family the finished product. We were tense: sure, director Duncan McMath’s storytelling vision had made something of beauty and candour. But his, and their, opinions mattered most.
At the end of the night, after some laughs and tears, he led us outside and told us, “Lads, I admit I was a little apprehensive, but I’ll give you ten out of ten – you’ve shown me honestly and produced exactly what you promised. We all loved it.”
That was magical. But the most moving experience was how Lucho and his family talked about dealing with the loss of Xana, how they’ve coped, what they feel now and how dedicated they are to the success of the Xana Foundation, which helps parents in similar situations.
I remember how hesitant we were to ask about Xana in our early interviews until he began to expound on life, death, love, family and Xana’s continuing presence in their life. As well as deeply poignant and full of wisdom, I hope those parts of our series will go on to promote the Xana Foundation and help people’s understanding of potential ways to deal with grief.
Not your average football documentary, right? Not your average football man, I promise you. Now, I hope, we all have a better f****** idea than we did before meeting Luis Enrique.
