The First Supper of Jesus

I remember watching him play. In the early 1980s, the old, dusty Campo J. Pimenta represented the dreams of many young football enthusiasts.

Estrela da Amadora was taking its first steps in the top flight, and Jorge Jesus, then 26, was a key figure in a team known for its stubbornness, always giving the big guns a tough time whenever they visited Reboleira.

Jesus was one of the most notable footballers of his time, not just for his quality but also for the magnificent head of hair that set him apart from the competition. These were early signs of a brand that would, many years later, remain with the athlete-turned-coach, who was determined to cross borders to build a prestigious career.

In 1990, Mário Rui, then president of Amora Futebol Clube, saw Jesus as the ideal figure to rebuild the squad at Medideira, giving him his first opportunity on the manager's bench.

My point is that nothing, absolutely nothing in his 36-year coaching career, surprises me about this dreamer from Amadora. The charisma, the tactical vision, the relationship with his players, and the ability to build cohesive, impenetrable dressing rooms. These are the key traits that have defined (and continue to define) a career that has brought major titles in Portugal, Brazil, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey. Wherever he has gone, he has left his mark, even if it meant banging his fist on the table—far beyond the media's view—to implement his ideas, style, and image.

For Jesus, it is essential to have only those at his table who truly agree with his methods and are not afraid to take risks. This has been one of his worst-kept secrets, as this characteristic is widely known.

Indeed, at the press conference marking the start of his tenure with the Portuguese Football Federation, he was crystal clear: those who are with him will have everything. They will have a manager who is available, open to dialogue, and ready to take a bullet for his group. Those who do not understand the additional, unquestionable commitment that a call-up to the national team brings to their professional careers, or who refuse to grasp the ultimate meaning of representing their country, can pack their bags and leave the Cidade do Futebol.

In this project, with someone like Jorge, there is only room for those with a sense of team, of the collective, who understand that the sum of individual talents is the group's greatest asset.

A sense of belonging to something greater, the very 'Team of All of Us' that the brilliant and enduring phrase coined and popularized by Cândido de Oliveira sought to universally inspire and amplify.

Jesus knows he is taking risks with this return to Portugal. First and foremost are the internal rivalries that characterize domestic football, where rabid club loyalties often cross the lines of decency and civility. This is fueled by a very Portuguese tradition of bad-mouthing one's neighbor to enhance one's own merits, and by the known irresponsibility of many top officials who prioritize petty, colorful squabbles—be they red, blue, or green—over the global interests of the industry.

That's just how Portugal is, combining a very Latin mentality and a pathological inability to separate the wheat from the chaff with an untamable desire to take criticism and slander to unacceptable levels when it comes to sports, even at the high-performance level with its inherent risks.

Jesus knows this better than anyone, having swapped Benfica for Sporting at a particularly sensitive moment in the history of the rivalry between the two Lisbon giants.

But, if I know him well, this Portuguese trait may have even been a contributing factor in his decision to accept the challenge from Pedro Proença. The Portuguese Football Federation president was inevitably tied to a prior choice he had made, due to the national team's victory in the fourth edition of the Nations League. He chose to honor his commitment to Roberto Martínez, but it was known that the end of Portugal's run in the World Cup in the Americas would definitively mark the end of the agreement with the Spanish coach.

Therefore, for the federation leader, it was a simple process. For the coach from Amadora, it was an immediate decision, aligned with what he himself had always envisioned for the final years of his career.

For a national team manager—who doesn't train daily, who observes from a safe distance, and who builds ten or twelve training microcycles a year—dressing room management is the essential element of his conduct and his project. With it, he shapes the implementation of his playing style, adding tactical nuances to leverage successive generations of players, and projecting the ideal mix of experienced pillars and irreverent newcomers.

He has no time to waste: the first challenges, under a new model for FIFA international windows, are already in September, and Portugal is, in fact, the defending champion in the new edition of the Nations League.

The new manager deserves time, but above all, the recognition that there is hardly anyone in Portugal more capable, more gifted, and with a greater desire to accept this job. And that, for football fans, should be enough to keep expectations high…