I have found myself drifting back into old habits lately. Late nights, the laptop open, matches paused and replayed, numbers sitting beside memories. I am not chasing validation in the data, but confirmation. I want to know whether what we are building at Chur truly belongs to the lineage I believe in, or whether I am simply projecting my obsessions onto a group of willing players.

The metrics reassure me. Quietly, convincingly.

We are scoring just under two percent fewer goals than before – when I started this data tracking journey, but the nature of our attacking play has changed profoundly. It reminds me of Emery’s Villarreal when Gerard Moreno and Danjuma were at their best. Fewer attacks, but every one of them deliberate. No wasted movements. Our verticality now resembles that model: shorter distances, clearer lanes, less chaos. Clemente’s Athletic were direct because they had to be. Emery’s teams are direct because they choose to be. We are learning that distinction.

What stands out most is how we now control space without possession. Teams are being moved side to side, forced wide, denied the central corridor. We no longer chase duels. We wait for mistakes. We aren’t sprinting to chase the ball but shuttling, side to side, front and back – playing at our pace. When you consider that our dribble metric has increased, and, as such, our sprints count naturally will do the same, this is quite a seismic change. Our tackle count has dropped, but our interceptions and forced errors have risen. When I look at those numbers, I think of Javi Martínez at Athletic under Bielsa, when his intelligence in stepping into passing lanes mattered more than his aggression. Or of Étienne Capoue at Villarreal, whose defensive value came not from spectacle but from timing. That is where we are heading.

The most dramatic shift, though, lies in the roles of our 8s and 10s. Dribbles and progressive passes from those zones are up by 35 percent compared to four years ago. This is not accidental. It is a philosophical decision. Clemente’s midfielders, players like Andoni Goikoetxea or Miguel de Andrés, broke lines through momentum and courage. Emery’s great sides relied on technicians like Banega, Parejo, or Lo Celso to progress through angles and patience. Iraola, meanwhile, asked his midfielders to drive relentlessly, to carry the ball forward at speed, like Óscar Valentín at Rayo or Lewis Cook at Bournemouth. What we are doing sits between those worlds. Our 8s are learning when to carry and when to release. Our 10 does not wait between the lines anymore; he works to arrive there. Central spaces have become our battlefield. The 6 and the 8 now dictate games together, much like Ruiz de Galarreta once did for Athletic – and, briefly, for us – or how Parejo and Capoue functioned as a pair at Villarreal. It is football built on relationships rather than roles.

Defensively, the improvement is steady rather than spectacular. A seven percent upturn across our key indicators might not excite anyone outside the dressing room, but it matters deeply to me. It means we are harder to break. More consistent. Less reliant on emergency defending. This is the kind of evolution I saw when Iraola’s Rayo matured, when their pressing became less frantic and more selective.

Simon Luchinger’s role as a deep-lying playmaker has been essential here and shows the development we have made since veteran Patjim Kasami was signed to fill the role. We deliberately reduced the number of sprints from that position. In modern football, that sounds almost heretical. But I think of Parejo again. Or even of Mikel Arteta as a player under Moyes. Control is not built on running. It is built on clarity. Simon now retrieves the ball through anticipation, through positioning, through calm. He progresses play with intelligence rather than intensity, and the entire team breathes because of it.

Behind him, Frank Llumnica has grown into a figure I trust implicitly and has taken David Selles’ performances and built on them, considerably. His Defensive Intelligence Index has climbed beyond 13, a number that confirms what the eye already knows. He reminds me of Aymeric Laporte in his early Athletic days: stepping out when needed, protecting space rather than chasing opponents, understanding when to hold and when to break the line. Clemente’s defenders survived. Emery’s defenders organise. Frank is learning to do both.

When I compare this Chur team to the sides that shaped me – Clemente’s Bilbao, Emery’s Sevilla and Villarreal, Iraola’s Rayo and Bournemouth, more recently – I don’t see imitation. I see continuity. The language is different. The accents have changed. But the grammar remains. Compactness as security. Verticality with purpose. Collective structure as freedom. 

This is only the beginning.