In a profession often defined by its cut-throat nature, Tony Pulis has always championed the importance of hospitality and humanity. His long-standing tradition of inviting opposition managers and their staff into his room for food and wine after matches has not only built bridges across the game but also led to a remarkable personal gesture from one of its greatest minds: Pep Guardiola. Now, as rumours swirl that this could be Guardiola’s final season in English football, Pulis reflects on the warmth and humility of a man who has transformed the sport.
For three decades, Pulis maintained a ritual that bridged the British game’s historical divide between dugouts. Whether home or away, his door was open. At Stoke City, and later West Bromwich Albion, a full spread and fine wine awaited the visiting coaching staff, win or lose. It was a custom rooted in the lower leagues—once just a beer and leftover sandwiches—but elevated by Pulis to a mark of respect. While the practice felt natural among British managers, he quickly discovered it was an alien concept to many from the continent. Yet, to a man, the foreign coaches embraced it.
Over the years, the table became a gathering spot for legends. Sir Alex Ferguson would summon Pulis to his own nook at Old Trafford, while a young José Mourinho delivered blunt, no-nonsense post-match verdicts with charm. Carlo Ancelotti radiated effortless cool, and Ronald Koeman reciprocated with eels at Goodison Park. Antonio Conte’s Chelsea famously clinched the title at The Hawthorns in 2017 and celebrated in Pulis’s hospitality suite until the early hours, draining the club’s wine supply. These encounters revealed the decent, hardworking characters behind the touchline fire.
Yet it was Guardiola who left the most lasting impression. Their first meeting in the 2016–17 season saw Manchester City beat West Brom, and as was custom, Pulis insisted the Catalan join his staff for a drink and meal. Despite the language of the Premier League being new to him, Guardiola was instantly engaging. He spoke humbly about his Barcelona tenure, deflecting credit to having six world-class players and a genius in Lionel Messi who could change games in seconds. He never brushed off a single question, charming even the stadium caterers with his warmth.
Later that season, during an evening kick-off at the Etihad, Guardiola actively sought out Pulis. The conversation again turned to Barcelona, and when Pulis admitted he had never visited, Guardiola immediately asked for an email address to send invitations and tips. Technology-averse, Pulis gave his wife Debbie’s contact instead. The following weekend, an email arrived from Guardiola containing a meticulously crafted guide to the city—a personal to-do list he had written himself, with an offer to meet if their travels aligned.
The gesture, small on the surface, spoke volumes. Guardiola, at the height of his powers and in the throes of a relentless Premier League campaign, took time to craft a travelogue for a rival manager he barely knew. It exemplified what Pulis has always argued: that football is a family. The trip never happened—Pulis admits he is useless at accepting gifts—but the memory endures as proof of the man behind the genius.
Guardiola’s self-awareness also shone in humour. After City beat West Brom in May 2017, he arrived late to his press conference and delivered the now-iconic line: “Sorry I am late, but Tony Pulis is Tony Pulis and red wine is red wine.” It was a nod to the post-match ritual, a moment that humanised a figure often seen as an obsessive perfectionist. For Pulis, it captured exactly why managers must cherish these private moments away from the cameras.
If Guardiola does depart the Etihad this summer, the Premier League will lose more than a tactical revolutionary. It will lose a figure who, despite his intensity, never lost sight of the game’s communal spirit. Pulis’s experiences paint a picture of a leader who is generous with his time, humble in his achievements, and genuinely curious about the people around him. That the same man once guided a Barcelona side featuring Messi to untold glory only deepens the respect.
In an era where post-match fraternising is fading, Pulis’s stories are a reminder of the bonds that sustain the sport. Whether it was Ferguson ignoring his team bus’s schedule or Conte laughing into the night, these moments built a fabric of mutual regard that transcended the scoreline. Guardiola’s handwritten guide to Barcelona remains a symbol of that ethos—a quiet act of kindness from one football obsessive to another. English football will be poorer without him, not just for the football, but for the character.
Based on reporting from BBC Sport.