Delving into the mind of Luis Suarez, the savage genius

Liverpool: Each week, renowned psychiatrist Dr Steve Peters arrives at Liverpool’s training ground at Melwood and leaves his door open for any passing players or staff.
As Luis Suarez fills the days during what is sure to be a prolonged suspension, he will be compelled to spend more time than most in the doctor’s chair. Peters is famed for helping clients isolate and control “the inner chimp”.

In Suarez’s case, the “inner vamp” needs eradicating. Establishing where his penchant for biting opponents originates — he has done this twice in three years — may at first glance seem one of Peters’ trickier assignments.

Should he delve into Suarez’s childhood, the psychiatrist’s tick box will be amply filled. Impoverished youth, a broken home, the lack of a father figure as one of seven children, playing barefoot on cobbled streets; the theme of underprivileged players displaying an extraordinary capacity for self-improvement, albeit at a cost to their on-field temperament, is recurring.

Yet there are many of similar background, but none have behaved like him. None are so prone to ill-discipline, in this case an act of feral savagery. Suarez, by his own admission, embraces what the Uruguayans call picardia. He said as much in an interview published hours before kick-off on Sunday. Loosely translated, it means to be cunning, deceitful even. You can see how he applies it on the field. Suarez’s story is one of minimal education, maximum willpower and an unremitting lack of self-control. A stop-at-nothing attitude where the lines between what is acceptable and intolerable are stretched.

He is the ultimate street footballer, spotted at the age of nine by a scout from his first professional club Nacional, Wilson Pirez, who knew he had discovered a troubled youth on the fields of Montevideo. Suarez’s family left his first home, 300 miles away in the town of Salto, when he was seven so his father, Rodolfo, could find work. Suarez’s father left the family when he was 12.

As a teenager, his club considered ditching Suarez because of his wayward nature. “Life was difficult for him,” says Pirez, before add ing somewhat ironically: “He wasn’t quite ready mentally to be a footballer. But that tough childhood made him so hungry for success.” Suarez, who yesterday accepted his 10-match ban for biting Chelsea’s Branislav Ivanovic during his side’s 2-2 draw with the Blues last Sunday, has always been impulsive. An idol at Nacional, he quit at 19 to join Groningen in Holland, a club for whom he was far too talented. He did so because his then girlfriend (now wife), Sofia, had moved to Europe to study.

In 2007, he forced his way out of the small Dutch club to join Ajax, threatening to go on strike if a £3.5 million (Dh19.8 million) bid was not accepted. He eventually left for £7.5 million. Wherever he has been, coaches have noted the dual personality of a player ferocious in his drive for success in his team’s colours and repentant for the carnage he has created afterwards. Herman Pinkster, Ajax’s team manager who looked after all the new recruits at the Dutch club, noted the temperament issues. “He is so determined on the pitch and sometimes it is that determination that is a problem for him,” he said. “To win, you need to be more than technically good. You need characters who will do anything to win. Luis has this character. That is what has caused him problems, but is not always a bad quality.”

‘Cannibal’ case

The first “cannibal” case in Holland shortly before his departure for Merseyside meant Liverpool knew exactly what they were getting when Suarez joined in 2011, but at the club’s training ground the striker displays none of the defects so evident in his on-field persona.

He is described by teammates as intense in training, but not especially fiery. Suarez will admonish colleagues, play five-a-sides with as much intensity as a league game and make sliding tackles on the Liverpool Ladies team captain when they join the men for training.

His will to win is too extreme, but has not impacted on his popularity in the dressing room. One theory as to why Suarez lost control against Branislav Ivanovic was that he had wound himself up for his indiscretion at the other end. It was his handball that gifted Chelsea a 2-1 lead and he was displaying a rabid fury.  For all the castigation and disgust at the biting incident, professional footballers were also making this point in the past 24 hours: they would much rather suffer a toothmark on the arm than a career-ending injury. Perhaps this offers an explanation for the restrained response of the victim, Ivanovic. 

There seems to be more people offended on Ivanovic’s behalf than he appears to be himself. That is no excuse, but reinforces the view Premier League footballers inhabit a different country to the rest of us. We sit on the sidelines looking on with both delight and disgust at their antics, judging and sermonising about those most of us can never fully empathise with. Very few will want to understand why Suarez did what he did or has done what he has done. The only hope for Liverpool as they vow to give him another chance is for Dr Peters to locate the answers within.

— The Telegraph Group Limited, London 2013