De Zerbi needs time to build Spurs team, says Pulis

Roberto de Zerbi arrived at Tottenham this summer with a mandate and a checkbook. The club handed him roughly £400 million to reshape the squad—an almost staggering sum for an organization historically known for restraint in the transfer market. The ambition was unmistakable. Supporters who had watched their team finish 17th in consecutive seasons suddenly allowed themselves to dream of trophy challenges and a top-four finish. Five games in, those dreams have curdled into disappointment, and some fans are already questioning whether De Zerbi is the right man for the job.

Tony Pulis, the former manager who has navigated these exact waters himself, sees the situation differently. In his view, the problem is not De Zerbi's competence but the sheer scale of the rebuild and the brutal timeline in which it must happen. Spending that much money on that many players at once does not produce instant harmony—it produces a puzzle that requires months to solve. Pulis uses a simple metaphor: if you spent every penny of a wedding-outfit budget on pink shoes, brown trousers, a yellow shirt, and an orange tie, the individual pieces might be fine, but they do not work together. Tottenham's summer signings are quality players, but they have not yet learned to function as a unit.

The timing has worked against De Zerbi in ways beyond his control. Most managers get a full preseason to integrate new arrivals, to drill them in the team's principles, to watch how they move together on the grass. De Zerbi did not have that luxury. Players arrived in dribs and drabs, some even after the season had started. He was always playing catch-up, unable to assess his full squad or impose his system before competitive matches began. Now, with the international break looming, he faces three weeks away from his players—time he desperately needs but cannot have.

Pulis draws on his own experience to illustrate why this matters. Early in his time at Stoke, he signed two centre-backs, Gerry Taggart and Michael Duberry, who were tactical opposites. Taggart preferred to drop deep because he lacked pace; Duberry was quick and comfortable leaving space behind him. Pulis could not make Taggart faster, so he had to convince Duberry to suppress his natural instincts and adjust to his partner's style. It took considerable time on the training pitch before they functioned in unison. That is the unglamorous work of team-building—repetition, adjustment, patience, and the willingness to ask players to compromise their individual strengths for collective benefit.

De Zerbi faces a more complex version of that challenge. He is not just integrating new players with existing ones; he is trying to establish an identity where none yet exists. Clubs like Brighton, Sunderland, Brentford, and Bournemouth can absorb multiple new signings because they have a clear, established identity that tells them exactly what type of player fits each position. Tottenham, having spent so heavily and so broadly, lacks that foundation. Each new arrival brings a different personality, different expectations, and a different adjustment timeline. Some settle quickly; others need months. De Zerbi, by all accounts a demanding and single-minded coach, will need to understand not just their abilities but their characters—what makes them tick, what they need to feel at home, how they live their lives off the pitch.

Pulis learned this lesson repeatedly. He once had three South American players at West Brom who were excellent but required care and attention. He and his assistant took them and their families out for dinner, spending time with their wives and children. That personal investment built trust and respect in ways that pure coaching never could. He had another player whose daily routine seemed bizarre—training until early afternoon, then bed until late evening, then out to restaurants and casinos until the early hours, then back for training. It took weeks to understand that this rhythm suited the player's lifestyle and personality, and once Pulis accepted it, the player became crucial to keeping the club up. The point was not to change him but to understand him, to make contact with him as a person, not just a performer.

De Zerbi is still in that discovery phase. He has been in the job only a few months. He is still learning which of his existing players understand the importance of teamwork and which do not. He is still figuring out who will bend to his demands and who will resist. He is still getting to know the new arrivals not just as footballers but as people. All of this takes time—time on the training pitch, time in conversation, time observing how players behave under pressure. It is the invisible work that supporters never see but that determines whether a squad becomes a team or remains a collection of individuals.

Pulis's argument is straightforward: De Zerbi deserves patience. He has already proved his quality elsewhere. He has the backing of his board, which is rare and valuable. What he does not have is the one thing every manager building a team needs most—time. Five games is nothing. The season is long. If Tottenham do not eventually produce results, then the questions will be fair. But right now, with the squad still settling, with an international break interrupting the process, with De Zerbi still learning his players' characters and capabilities, it is too early to judge. In his own managerial days, Pulis was given time to build a family. For today's managers, he notes, that luxury seems increasingly rare. De Zerbi deserves to be given it now.