At the prison in Tocopilla, a town nicknamed Devil’s Corner on the sparse coast of Chile’s arid north, the guards liked to pass spare time with dusty games of football. Often they were short of players and invited a kid to come and play. The boy was small and thin but, on that prison pitch, against big grown men, he was never fazed.
Alexis Sanchez was his name, though most called him Ardilla, “Squirrel”. He had already travelled 1,000 miles away, for a training stint at the academy of major club Universidad Catolica, and before long he would be starring for Cobreloa, a more local team, where he would have a new nickname, El Nino Maravilla (The Boy Wonder), when he began wowing Chile’s Primera Division aged 16.
Not only was he unfazed, he was unshakeable: in his belief he was headed for the top. There are press reports about Sanchez when he was beginning to be known, at 12 and 13, in which he states he wants to win the the World Cup and become the greatest footballer on the planet. Such an outlook never left him. During a difficult spell at Barcelona in 2012-13 Sanchez had a message to critics: “I know the footballer I am. I’ve always been a great player. I know I can win matches, and that’s not going to change. Even if I’m not scoring, even if I’m not performing, for me I’ll always be one of the best in the world.”
There are extremes when it comes to United No7s, with little in between. Wearers of the club’s most iconic shirt either become an Eric Cantona or an Angel Di Maria. Bryan Robson or Keith Gillespie. A Cristiano (Ronaldo) or a Memphis (Depay). Even when you pay a footballer £100m — the conservative estimate of the Chilean’s pay over the next four-and-a-half years — nothing comes guaranteed. But Sanchez possesses the rare streak those great No7s had in common: that uncommon alchemy of ability, strong mentality, and the dreamer’s desire to be special. George Best and David Beckham were others.
You look at the failed 7s. Memphis had the skills and, on the surface, the swagger, but in reality he was insecure and lacked, as Ronald de Boer put it, the “smartness” to adapt his game to the Premier League, wanting too long on the ball. His last 896 minutes for United featured not one single goal or assist — a remarkable underperformance for someone of his gifts.
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Di Maria, previously a brilliant second fiddle for Real Madrid and Argentina, was uncomfortable when cast as the star of a team. He has valid gripes about his United experience, like being made to feel lonely at a then unhappy club, or Louis Van Gaal continually changing his position. But the biggest performers impose their will, whatever the difficulties. Di Maria is now comfortable back in the bracket of “beta player” at Paris Saint-Germain.
You contrast him to Ronaldo. He faced difficulties, he was a teenager in an alien culture, who lost his father and was targeted by defenders and critics, but he emerged a European champion and Ballon D’Or winner. Ask Rio Ferdinand about Ronaldo and it is the single-mindedness he most recalls. “A work ethic not matched by anybody I know.” Ferdinand still pictures Ronaldo, day after day, disappearing to the far end of the training ground with a bag of balls until he re-emerged with his new ‘knuckleball’ free kick.
Sanchez will not be Ronaldo or Best (few are in their class) but can be as impactful as the others. A biography published in Chile — Alexis: El Camino de un Crack — provides a fascinating portrait of his tunnel vision. In it, Alexis explains, “My older brother is really good too... he plays as a number 10 and all the teams in northern Chile wanted him. But he chose dancing and clubs instead.” Contrastingly, the young Alexis worked on his game and cared for his body. That continued. In 2011, when a gang of young Chile players, including Arturo Vidal, got drunk three days before a crucial World Cup qualifier in Uruguay, Sanchez — only 22 himself — sided with the squad’s elders and in a team meeting castigated his erstwhile friends.
In the Chile camp now he is the dedicated, perfectionist loner. According to Danilo Diaz, his co-biographer, “Players admire him but do not consider him a great friend. He’s not that close with the others. He often trains alone and he’s the only one without tattoos.”
His hobby is Japanese manga, in particular Captain Tsubasa, which depicts a young boy’s rise to football superstardom. “I think Alexis has always related his own career with that fictitious world,” said his other co-biographer, Nicolas Olea. “He sees himself as a cartoon character, running forever on a never-ending pitch, in pursuit of his ultimate goal.”
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It was typical that Sanchez insisted on not just playing at Yeovil in Friday’s FA Cup tie, but on receiving every possible ball. It was not a shy debut, and his assist for Ander Herrera’s goal had Mourinho purring about his experience and decision-making. These are Grade A traits in Mourinho-world — and the manager drew pointed contrast between Sanchez’s nous and the as yet “nervous” game of Marcus Rashford.
For Rashford — and Gareth Southgate, with the World Cup approaching — Sanchez’s arrival is problematic. Mourinho, no cosseter of youth, will expect him to swallow his relegation in the pecking order and step up. The 4-3-3 seen at Yeovil may be used more, with Sanchez so versed in it, and the relationship he forms with Paul Pogba, who loves to drive upfield and link with the left forward, is key. “Fergie had people who were not easy to control but they were leaders,” says Nemanja Vidic, reflecting on the types in United’s last truly great side, of 2007-08. Sanchez’s rebellions alienated some at Arsenal by the end but Mourinho, as seen in his relationship with Zlatan Ibrahimovic, does not mind ego so long as winning is what drives it.
Tottenham at Wembley seems a fitting assignment for Sanchez’s first Premier League assignment for United and one thing his arrival is designed to improve is United’s cutting edge in major games. Romelu Lukaku’s problems in those are statistical fact, but Sanchez scored for Arsenal in two cup finals, netted 11 times against “big six” rivals, and had a decent Champions League record. Growing up in Devil’s Corner, he washed cars by a cemetary to supplement his mother’s meagre wages from cleaning and selling fish. His dad left when he was young. He played barefoot and his first boots were a gift from Tocopilla’s mayor.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be a footballer and everything will work out,” he would tell his mother — and if Sanchez demanded a king’s ransom from United it is worth remembering his starting point, and the outlook that having once been penniless might breed.
Juan Carlos Berliner, former director of Chile’s national team and a sports psychologist, described the mindset of players like Sanchez. “They feel they’ve already won in life, that they’ve already been involved in a battle and emerged triumphant,” he said. “Having escaped poverty, it makes them think they’re capable of taking on the world.”
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Additional reporting: Rob Hunt