The presidency of Olympique de Marseille effectively began weeks before the official handover. When Stéphane Richard addressed the media on April 10, he dropped a curious detail: his formal tenure would not start until July 3. That three-month intermission puzzled many, given a looming summer packed with the appointment of a sporting director, a hearing before French football's financial watchdog, and the reshaping of a squad still nursing the bruises of a turbulent campaign. But Richard, a former high-ranking civil servant and ex-CEO of telecom giant Orange, treated the announcement as a starting pistol rather than a waiting period. He describes the approach as a rolling start, similar to a relay exchange in athletics or a horse race, where the baton is already in motion before the next runner grabs hold. In practice, that meant doubling his daily workload, juggling commitments at the investment bank he serves until June 30 with an intensive immersion into the machinery of the Vélodrome.
Within days of the press conference, Richard was no mere observer. He attended OM's final three home fixtures against Metz, Nice, and Rennes, each a chapter in the club's mid-table grind. Away from the Mediterranean coast, he traveled to Le Havre on May 10, underscoring a willingness to be seen in the trenches rather than in the executive boxes. It was a signal to players and staff alike that accountability would now wear a new face. He took care to honor performers, too, presenting Mason Greenwood with the supporter-voted player of the season award and recognizing Leonardo Balerdi for his 200th appearance in Olympic colors after the Rennes match. Such moments, small in isolation, telegraph a presidency that intends to fuse modern professionalism with a respect for ritual.
Yet the most emphatic statement came not from a celebration but from a sanction. On May 8, Richard co-signed disciplinary action against forward Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang for the now notorious extinguisher incident. The specifics of that episode had already become whispered legend around the training ground, but the decision to punish a high-profile figure revealed a leader untroubled by star wattage. Those who know Richard's biography—decades at the intersection of government and multinational strategy—see a man who has navigated crises far graver than a locker-room flare-up. The punishment was not heavy-handed, but the message was unmistakable: standards apply uniformly, even to the most admired names on the team sheet. It instantly altered the internal power map, reinforcing that the post-Longoria era would not be business as usual.
Richard also went behind the scenes. On April 27 he toured sections of the Commanderie, OM's cathedral-like training complex, and on May 11 he spoke to employees gathered at the club's new beachside headquarters on Avenue du Prado. In that meeting, he acknowledged he was discovering football's peculiar ecosystem with fresh eyes, a candor that resonated with staff who had cycled through multiple leadership styles. His admission was not weakness but a calculated humility, the sort that buys time and builds alliances before tougher calls. Crucially, he used those early hours to begin interviewing candidates for the sporting director role, ultimately selecting Grégory Lorenzi, the architect behind Brest's quiet rise. Lorenzi's impending arrival hints at a footballing philosophy centered on smart recruitment and long-term construction, a departure from OM's recent habit of high-profile but short-lived projects. The coaching question remains open, but Richard's method is already clear: build the structure before choosing the figurehead.
His itinerary then took a transcontinental turn. Early this week Richard flew to Ivory Coast to shore up a tourism partnership that bears the slogan "Sublime Côte d'Ivoire." Launched in 2023, this deal is more than branding; it represents a strategic pivot toward African markets that are both émotionally tied to OM's historic players and commercially ripe. Richard's comfort in Abidjan is personal: he cultivated deep ties with Ivorian decision-makers during his Orange years, relationships that now lubricate negotiations worth a possible three-year extension. While there, he sat down with Didier Drogba, whose legacy at the club is monumental. The meeting suggests an impending ambassadorial role for the former striker, a bridge to both fans and partners who recall the 2004 UEFA Cup run and the primal roar of the Vélodrome. For a club seeking to reconnect with its passionate Mediterranean and African fanbase, Drogba's symbolic value is immense.
All of this activity unfolds while Richard remains tethered to his banking duties until June 30. "The days are doubled," he admits from Ivory Coast, yet he insists on being fully operational, absorbing who does what, and identifying the obstacles that need clearing. The narrative of a part-time president evaporates under the weight of actions: three home games, one away trip, a disciplinary hearing, a sporting-director search, an internal town hall, and an international trade mission compressed into barely six weeks. Observers note that such early motion is rare in football, where executives often spend months in diagnostic mode. Richard inverted the sequence, acting first and reflecting later, a habit bred by his crisis-management pedigree at Orange during highly publicized labor disputes and corporate restructurings.
The implications for Olympique de Marseille ripple in multiple directions. For the squad, it signals that the new hierarchy will not tolerate the drift that sometimes characterized the previous regime, where internal tensions occasionally spilled into public view. For the front office, it means a more structured decision-making process, with a sporting director who will answer directly to a president capable of both high-level strategy and granular oversight. For the fans, it offers a promise of stability after a period in which the club's direction seemed to pivot with the wind. Richard's quick moves—sanctioning a star, hiring a talent spotter, rekindling an African partnership—build a composite portrait of a leader who understands that symbols matter and that the first 100 days, even before they officially begin, set the tone for a presidency that will be measured by trophies as much as by transformation. Based on reporting from L'Equipe.
