To mangle some Churchillian rhetoric, Avram Grant is perceived by most observers of his meteoric rise as a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, inside a sharp suit.
Already this season the Chelsea manager has defied all those detractors who claimed he was a grey mediocrity, unworthy of the mantle of Jose Mourinho, as his team pitch up
at Wembley tomorrow for the Carling Cup final. It is a suitable vindication of a man who has been touched at every turn by luck, ambition, and remarkable connections.
Nothing about this understated 52-year-old Israeli is quite what you first imagine. There is the secret singing prowess, illustrated by his rendition of Frank Sinatra's My Way to Chelsea's bemused staff on the club's summer tour to Los Angeles.
Then there is the undercurrent of dry humour, often employed against those journalists with the temerity to question his inert touchline demeanour.
Then there is his wife, Tzofit, the Ruby Wax-style television personality whose flamboyant and outlandish reputation has become antithetical to Grant's.
This tale of the unexpected acquires greater resonance on a journey back through Grant's roots, tracing his extended apprenticeship in the backwaters of Tel Aviv before thoughts of reaching the Premier League even surfaced. Reared as a child on a fervent admiration of Liverpool and Leeds United, he first plotted his progress in the sleepy suburb of Petah Tikva, known half-mockingly as the 'doorway to hope'.
From 1972 it remained precisely this for almost 20 years; a portal to more exotic opportunities in football while he devoted himself to the youth system at local side Hapoel and, later, to the first team.
It is here where the scale of Grant's advancement can be glimpsed most clearly; while Chelsea's Cobham training complex is a shrine to the hyper-investment of the Israeli's close confidant, Roman Abramovich, the municipal stadium in Petah Tikva is in chronic disrepair and affords no physical evidence of his legacy.
In Grant's tenacity, though, lay his great strength. Grant's particular flair was not as a player - the fact that he began coaching at 17 was testament to that - but in the development of young players, as illustrated by the 14 years he spent refining his talents at youth level and his subsequent success in taking Petah Tikva to the top of the Israeli game, with two cup triumphs.
It was of great help to Grant's public profile in Israel that he had acute sensitivities to a life beyond his chosen sport. The previous generation of his family had been decimated by the Holocaust, and he described on a visit to the "hell of earth" of Auschwitz last year how his father, Amir, had been forced to dig graves for his parents, sisters and brothers with his bare hands.
The image is further helped by Grant's work in using football as a vehicle in the Middle East peace process.
Through his role in the charity FC Unity he showed a resolve to create teams with Arab members, as an antidote to the overwhelmingly Jewish make-up of Israel's top flight, the Ligat ha'Al.
So far, so seamless. But by the time Grant had navigated an impressive path at the helm of Maccabi Tel Aviv and the Israel national side, there were complicating factors in his rise; not least the influence of Abramovich and the wider conjunction between Israeli football and oligarchs.
The extraordinary circumstances of his first meeting with Abramovich highlights this web of intrigue. Pini Zahavi, the 'super agent' instrumental in the Russian's takeover of Chelsea, engineered a meeting to introduce the pair in Dublin, where it was mooted that Grant should take charge of Hapoel Tel Aviv.
The deal ultimately foundered on the reluctance of Lev Leviev, the Israeli billionaire and orthodox Jew, to let his team play on Saturdays. The collapse brought in another of the billionaires' circle, Alexandre Gaydamak, to enable his arrival at Portsmouth as director of football.
Grant maintains he has no gift for political manoeuvring, instead arguing that his recent elevations have been borne solely of good luck. Commentators in the Israeli media, on whom he has been known to round angrily for their inaccurate portraits, would tend to agree. "Have you heard of the phrase 'Hatachat shel Avram'?" asks Ron Amikam, a senior sports writer at Tel Aviv newspaper Maariv. "That defines him." Loosely translated, this expression means the 'backside of Avram', and was coined to reflect the fortuitous results of the national team under his stewardship.
Grant is a man who never stops learning, and he plans to complete his technical portfolio with the Uefa Pro Licence. "I will do all that is necessary," he said with his usual eerie self-belief. This enigma looks set to endure. WHEN Avram Grant leads out Chelsea in the Carling Cup final tomorrow afternoon, there will be no prouder spectator inside Wembley Stadium than his remarkable father, Meir Granat.
Meir, a survivor of the Holocaust who celebrated his 80th birthday on Thursday, has made the trip from Israel to support Chelsea and watch a match that, in some respects, represents the culmination of a 31-year journey.
During the 1970s, Meir helped seal his son's love of football by paying for him to travel to major matches, and Grant (pictured right) made his first visit to Wembley for the 1977 FA Cup final between Manchester United and Liverpool. Yet the family bond is formed from experiences far deeper than sport.
Back in 1941, Meir and his family were forced to flee from Poland and live in a Russian forest, where he eventually had to dig graves for his parents and five brothers and sisters.
Grant was named after his grandfather and did not know the full tragic details of his family's story until he was 15, when his father woke in the night screaming after a bad dream. Meir's first wife and Avram's mother, Aliza, died in 1997 but father and son still speak on the phone almost every day.
"My father is a great man," Grant said. "One of the greatest that I know, he is optimistic like I have never seen in my life and he suffered a lot when he was young.
"Even when I was at school, he saw only the good marks. And even now, he is optimistic. If you speak to him about the past, he says 'it was in the past but I live [in] the future'. I love him."
At the end of a week in which he was subjected to a death threat, Grant's words came laced with emotion and perspective. "I studied in a lot of schools and many, many subjects at university but I think the university of life is the most important," he said.
Grant has certainly given his father plenty to be proud of. Already this season the Chelsea manager has defied the detractors who claimed he was a grey mediocrity, unworthy of the mantle of Jose Mourinho. Taking his team to Wembley tomorrow is a suitable vindication for a man touched by luck, ambition and remarkable connections.
Nothing about the understated 52-year-old Israeli is quite what you first imagine. There is the secret singing prowess, illustrated by his rendition of Frank Sinatra's My Way to Chelsea's staff on the summer tour to Los Angeles. There is the dry humour, often employed against journalists with the temerity to question his inert touchline demeanour. Then there is his wife, Tzofit, the Ruby Wax-style television personality whose flamboyant reputation is the opposite of Grant's.
This tale of the unexpected acquires resonance on a journey back through Grant's roots, tracing his extended apprenticeship in the backwaters of Tel Aviv. Reared as a child on a fervent admiration of Liverpool and Leeds United, he first plotted his progress in the sleepy suburb of Petah Tikva, known half-mockingly as the 'doorway to hope'.
From 1972 it remained that for almost 20 years while Grant devoted himself to the youth system at local side Hapoel, and later to the first team.
In Grant's tenacity, though, lay his great strength. His flair was not as a player - he began coaching at 17 - but in the development of young players, as illustrated by his success in taking Petah Tikva to the top of the Israeli game.
By the time Grant had navigated an impressive path to Maccabi Tel Aviv and the Israel side, the influence of Roman Abramovich and the wider conjunction between Israeli football and oligarchs had become significant.
Pini Zahavi, the 'super agent' instrumental in Abramovich's takeover of Chelsea, engineered a meeting between the pair in Dublin, when it was mooted that Grant should take charge of Hapoel Tel Aviv. That deal foundered, but brought another of the billionaires' fraternity, Alexandre Gaydamak, into Grant's circle, enabling his arrival at Portsmouth as director of football.
Grant maintains he has no gift for political manoeuvring, arguing that his recent elevations have been borne of good luck. Yet if he is lucky, he is also a man who never stops learning, and he plans to complete his technical portfolio with the Uefa Pro Licence. "I will do all that is necessary," he said with characteristic self-belief.
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