Milutinovic's cultural revolution stirs China

Well-travelled Serb's 'happy football' converts hard-liners as he seeks to take his fifth nation to second stage

Ignorance can be bliss. "Against Cambodia, we were leading 3-1," recalls China's coach, Bora Milutinovic. "I could hear people chant 'Milu, Milu' so many times, and I think 'it's not fair, they should support the team, not just me', but actually they shout against me, so it's better not to understand!"

The well-travelled Serb juggles six tongues with varying degrees of fluency, but Mandarin is another ball game. "Milu", as the Chinese abbreviate him, struggles to pronounce even half his first- choice XI for the national team, and doesn't know where he lives in Beijing. He jokes: "I only understand that when Chinese smile it is good, when they don't... danger!"

The perils became obvious during that Cambodian tie in 2000. Milu had recently slid into the hottest seat in China, from which the Briton Bobby Houghton had just been fired. His team were 3-1 up, but the fans demanded more convincing displays against Asia's minnows. After several poor results, notably a loss to a starving, Stalinist North Korea, even the players groused to a domestic press sharpening its knives.

Today they are only singing his praises. When China qualified for the World Cup finals for the first time, on 7 October last year, cities nationwide exploded in celebration.

While football has long eclipsed table tennis as China's sport of choice, with at least 100 million football fans and over two million players, no previous coach had ever taken the world's most populous nation to the game's biggest party in 44 years of trying.

But Milutinovic is unlike any other coach. With his Beatles mop and fun training style, the 57-year-old forced China's staid football establishment to lighten up, smile and share his vision. Now he is the most famous foreigner in China, and a registered brand name worth £2m to date. Yet the fairy-tale ending looked a distant dream when Milu first took on this socialist giant hungry for vindication through sporting success.

"China always played political football," notes Xie Yi, editor of Soccer Weekly, China's most popular newspaper. "Matches were serious national events, and the players carried the burden of the 'glory of the Chinese nation'. They were so nervous they never played to their ability." Perennial also-rans, embarrassed by tiny neighbours, the Chinese were the "chokers" of Asian football.

Emergency measures required foreign talent. Houghton, formerly manager of Bristol City and Malmo, followed the equally ill-starred East German Klaus Schlappner, but Milutinovic arrived to louder fanfare than both. For this veteran globetrotter had led Mexico, Costa Rica, the United States and Nigeria to the World Cup finals (though the US qualified automatically as hosts), and all to the second round. In pursuit of a record-breaking fifth finals berth, Milutinovic soon became involved in a clash of cultures.

Accustomed to headmaster-like coaches, barking authority from the sidelines, his Chinese charges were shocked when Milutinovic joked and played alongside them in training. He called his relaxed training regime and match-day philosophy "happy football". Chinese critics condemned it as too relaxed.

"He challenged our very concept of football," admits Dong Hua, spokesman for the state-run Chinese Football Association. "For years we told players 'don't be nervous', but that didn't work! Milu taught them to enjoy the game. We still don't understand all his jokes, but, when he trains players, football is their common tongue."

New drills included "tennis football", with two to three players each side of a badminton net. "It looks like a game but it's competitive and builds confidence too," explains Milutinovic's training assistant, Julio Moreno, from Chile. "Milu puts his passion into everything. In tennis football, bowling or whatever, he plays with the players and wants to beat them. Now they believe in him, they know why he's successful."

The critics eased their sniping as China raced to the third-best record among all 32 qualifiers. "They say the draw was lucky," acknowledges Milutinovic in reference to opposition such as Oman and the United Arab Emirates, rather than China's bogeymen, Japan and South Korea, who qualified automatically as hosts, or Asia's other powerhouses such as Saudi Arabia and Iran. "But we played very competitive football. The momentum was perfect, no injured players, good team spirit, public support, no problems. Much easier than I expected!"

Milutinovic built that momentum with motivational devices straight from central casting. Before each game he shows his players a 10-minute highlight from Denzel Washington's Remember the Titans, an American football movie that champions the team spirit. And, on his hat, Milutinovic wears his mantra – "attitude is everything". "That's my most important legacy," he suggests. "The team showed that with the right attitude you can do anything."

Given China's lack of world-class talent, self-belief is all-important. "Really we don't have stars," admits Milutinovic, "we have good players", but by mid-June the star of some may have risen beyond Asia. Li Tie, a 24 year-old midfielder, is many fans' favourite for his quick runs and stubborn defending. Qi Hong, 26, is another midfielder with an eye for goal, while great things are predicted of the 20-year-old striker Qu Bo. All three hope to join China's nascent foreign legion, led by the veteran Fan Zhiyi, 32, at Dundee, and Sun Jihai, set to become China's first Premiership player with Manchester City next season. The pair marshal a reasonably well-organised defence that dictates China's conservative style, alert for the counter-attack.

England is the top of most Chinese players' wish lists, as a decade of Premiership television coverage has lent the league the edge over Serie A, the other most widely watched game in China. David Beckham topped an Asia-wide poll last week as the region's most popular player. Rip-off Manchester United merchandise fills China's markets.

While the lure of foreign riches and experience is powerful, top Chinese players are already handsomely rewarded at home. The professional league is steadily coming of age after just eight years' existence, though match-fixing remains rife in this highly commercial environment, where teams are named after their local sponsors, from insurers to distillers.

The champions, Dalian Shide, from north-east China, dominate proceedings with Manchester-like monopoly.

Milutinovic considers China's qualification his biggest achievement to date. It is probably his biggest pay-day too, after he boosted his $800,000 (£560,00) contract with endorsements possibly worth £2m.

Dressed in traditional robes, the teetotal Milu plugs Chinese firewater. Elsewhere, his famous face shifts DVDs and air-conditioners. To fight off pirates, he has even registered "Milu" as a brand name.

The trappings of capitalism were remote when Milutinovic first visited China, leading Mexico's Pumas in 1977, at the close of the Cultural Revolution. Today, football raises passions that China's communist politicians never reach, while local journalists gossip that Milu is having an affair with one of their breed. His wife and daughter remain at home in Mexico, one of Milutinovic's four satisfied clients.

He will join them immediately after the World Cup, when a Chinese coach is favourite to build on Milutinovic's success. That leaves three games in charge, against Costa Rica, Brazil and Turkey, unless the "miracle coach" conjures China into the second round. Viewing figures of eight billion are likely in China alone. Up to 100,000 Chinese may crowd into South Korea to watch in person. Will their heroes score a goal, or even draw a game and clinch a historic first point? Another smile lights up that leathery face, celebrated across China. "In football, everything is possible."