I hate the phrase “I told you so”, so allow me to macarise instead: I am immensely pleased to declare that the baleful Steve Holland experiment at Yokohama F·Marinos has finally come to a merciful end. With eleven league games passed and a solitary win to show for it, the verdict is: he was the wrong man, at the wrong time, with the wrong résumé.
And so, as I trudge through another season of footballing xerotripsis at the Nissan Stadium, I implore the club to get the next appointment right. We’re not discussing a polite reshuffle in mid-table—we’re 19th. Nineteenth. I could almost be tempted to leap into Yokohama Bay just to wash off the residue of this managerial debacle.
No Direct Flights from Crewe to Yokohama
Steve Holland will be remembered, not for his impact, but for his irrelevance. His coaching legacy consists largely of a backseat role, whispering into the ears of braver men, more decorated than he could ever hope to be.
Does a leopard change its spots? In Holland’s case, we only witnessed change from assistant to disaster. Even under the tutelage of managerial titans like Guus Hiddink, Antonio Conte and (I say this while retching slightly) Gareth Southgate, he gleaned nothing that suggested he could ever lead from the front.
So when Holland appeared in Yokohama—after 17 years from being the head coach of Crewe Alexandra, was it any great shock that his reign was sterile, stagnant, and short-lived? One win in eleven games. I’ll repeat that in case the sheer scale of ineptitude passed you by: one win in eleven J1 matches. If you want to argue in his favour, go ahead—raise your blood pressure in the process.
2–0 and You Still Got Sacked
At home, against a Shimizu S-Pulse side that offered little more than vague organisation and hopeful transitions, F·Marinos were 2–0 up after 51 minutes. A scrappy goal from Uechi followed a clean finish from Tono after some incisive midfield movement. The 16,000 in attendance must’ve thought they’d finally see a routine win.
But no. With the self-sabotaging rhythm of a Greek tragedy, F·Marinos conceded three goals in just over half an hour: a well-hit free kick, an own goal from Jean-Claude (in a moment of pure slapstick), and finally a precise strike from Takashi Inui to complete the humiliation.
Watching it unfold, one could only sigh. Or scream. Or laugh. And then scream again. Whichever reaction you chose, the result was the same: Marinos’ six games without victory, and Holland sliding helplessly out of the dugout and into managerial oblivion.
Things to Do in Yokohama: Watching F·Marinos Not Top of the List
It’s a gorgeous city, Yokohama. Truly. If you’re asking things to do in Yokohama, you’re spoilt for choice: stroll Yamashita Park, sip coffee in Motomachi, wander through Chinatown, maybe take in the bay views near Osanbashi Pier. But watching F·Marinos? Lately, that’s not exactly been a top suggestion. Not unless you enjoy existential dread disguised as possession-based football.
Enter Patrick Kisnorbo: The Right Interim at the Right Time?
So, what now? The answer, for now, is Patrick Kisnorbo. A man with steel in his bones and—importantly—a record of actually managing football teams. A Premier League alumnus turned coach, Kisnorbo embodies the grit and purpose sorely missing from recent weeks. Fans of Leeds United still speak warmly of him, a warrior from their League One ascent and 2009–10 Player of the Season. That sort of pedigree means something.
And here’s the crucial part: Kisnorbo isn’t some 60-something Englishman baffled by bento and J.League fixture congestion. He gets it. He knows the tempo, the rhythm, the pressure of Asian football. He’s won two A-League Premierships and one Championship with Melbourne City, reached the Australian Cup final. A much better cultural fit, for sure.
Frankly, Kisnorbo should’ve been appointed as head coach from the beginning, while Holland could’ve done what he’s always done best—sit quietly, take notes…
All Eyes on Urawa: Redemption Must Begin Now
Kisnorbo officially took charge on Good Friday, a poetic twist given how often this team has been crucified by its own naivety. Next up is Urawa Red Diamonds. Not an easy fixture by any metric—9th in the table, winning three of their last five, and a side perpetually dangerous on the counter.
Yokohama F·Marinos, by contrast, have won zero of their last five, and their defence is more porous than a philosophy student’s first rent agreement. If ever there was a moment to show mettle, it is now.
Anderson Lopes, who has upset Urawa defences in the past, must rediscover his potency. Seven goals in 13 games against them (during his stints with not only Marinos but also with Sanfrecce Hiroshima and Consadole Sapporo)—can he become Kisnorbo’s talisman?
Let’s hope so. Let’s pray we don’t once again leave the pitch staring down at the metaphorical Yokohama Bay, wondering whether drowning in it would’ve been less painful than watching another Holland masterclass in mediocrity.
doragon sports 