After winning only 1 of the last 9 since the World Cup and experimenting with a 3-5-2, with 33-yo Jermaine Jones as the central CB (who has subsequently discussed his discomfort in the role), Klinsmann decided to blame it all on fitness. Why? Who knows why, but knives are back out and the post-LD blogosphere is not interested in hearing "these are only friendlies."

_________________________________________________________________

http://www.si.com/planet-futbol/2015/02/06/usmnt-fitness-pierre-barrieu-jurgen-klinsmann

...

After the MLS offseason, Klinsmann added, “It’s difficult for me now to get them out of vacation … They don’t have that, ‘Oh, O.K., at the beginning of December, go to Athletes’ Performance in Phoenix and get myself fit.’ That culture we don’t have yet … The culture is not there.”

That’s not the U.S. team culture that Barrieu knows. “It’s always hard to comment on situations that are taking place right now, because I’m not part of it,” Barrieu said. “The one thing I can talk about is what went on during my years on the team with two different regimes, Bruce and Bob. Fitness has been a hallmark of the team. People were always saying, ‘You guys are hard to play because you’re very fit.’ So now when Jurgen said this, I’m scratching my head. It’s surprising.”

Barrieu does want to make one thing clear: The U.S.’s reputation for top-level fitness isn’t due to some sort of genetic advantage. It’s due to a culture of hard work.

“Sometimes it’s interpreted as the U.S. guys are really superior fitness freaks. But that’s not the case,” he said. “We had guys who were starters for years, who are big names in the U.S., and they are not superior fitness specimens to European players. We had teams that were really fit because it was a priority. The coaching staff was like, ‘If we lose games, we will totally make sure it wasn’t due to bad fitness, because this is something we can control.’ It comes down to the players, the work and the training method, which is why I really enjoyed my years in the U.S. Players were willing to do the work.”

But for a few years even that part was a work in progress. When Barrieu first joined the U.S. team before the 2002 Gold Cup, he said, “a lot of players got hit like a ton of bricks” by the fitness requirements. By around 2004, though, he said a culture of fitness had been built up within the team, one that included regular communication and instruction when the players were not in national team camp.

“What started as a big surprise ended up as an expectation,” Barrieu said. “This is sociology here. They don’t think the same, they don’t function the same, but I saw a tremendous improvement … You design a good program, you stay in touch and you have feedback and guidelines. Then it’s up to them to do it or not, knowing there would be a way for us to verify if their work had been done or not in camp.”

Barrieu left U.S. Soccer when Bradley was fired in 2011. He then worked as an assistant coach and head fitness coach for the United Arab Emirates national team. He left that job last year for Sheffield Wednesday, which was set to gain a money infusion from new owners from Azerbaijan. But when the purchase fell apart, Barrieu’s job was one of the casualties. He’s currently working as a FIFA technical instructor running coaching symposiums in different countries.

Barrieu didn’t mind questioning the current regime was when it came to the three U.S. hamstring injuries suffered during the World Cup by Jozy Altidore, Matt Besler and Fabian Johnson.

“This is my personal opinion: When it comes to these soft-tissue injuries, I’ll tell you flat out: I don’t think this is a coincidence,” he said. “What can explain this? Again, I wasn’t there to witness the workload and all the other factors during the camp and the days that preceded it. But it would be foolish to have three injuries like this -- three non-contact soft-tissue injuries in the same muscle group -- and think this is a coincidence. And I’m sure didn’t do that.”

One of my favorite stories: Barrieu wasn’t above installing some humorous methods of keeping players honest. Once, during Arena’s tenure, he included in the late-December home-training program a workout that was literally impossible to complete. “No one could do this,” he said, “because it was just too fast, too much distance and not enough time.” When the day of that workout came, right after Christmas, he got 15 phone calls and e-mails from players who were coming into that January camp.

“Guys were telling me, ‘F---, there’s no way I could do it,’” he recalls. “And I’m like, ‘Great! Because you’re not supposed to! Good work. Keep going!’” Another third of the players wouldn’t check in, and only after he contacted them would they say there were a couple days behind. And then there were a final few, six or seven, he would ask about the impossible workout. “Oh, great, no problem,” they’d tell him. “And I’d say, ‘I’ll see you on January 4!’” he said, laughing. “So this is sociology.”

It’s not an exact science, in other words. But if there really is a significant problem with the fitness culture in Klinsmann’s team -- and not everyone is sure that there is -- it’s a decline that has happened under his watch over the past three-and-a-half years.