On The Premiership:A little over a year ago, Jose Mourinho was sat at a table at Chelsea's plush Cobham training complex, answering questions from journalists in, for want of a better term, Mourinhese: that blend of smouldering indifference and withering put-downs which has become his verbal tic.

After a string of mundane inquiries, one reporter changed tack. What were his thoughts on the decision by the Belgian club Charleroi to sue Fifa after their star striker had been injured while on international duty? Mourinho said nothing, preferring instead to fix his interrogator with the kind of gaze which could curdle custard at 100 yards.

Was the Special One stumped? Sitting beside him, Simon Greenberg, the club's "communications director", shifted uncomfortably and muttered that Mourinho was hardly likely to have concerned himself with such trivialities.

Suddenly - startlingly - Mourinho sprung to life.

"Of course I know about it," he thundered, before embarking on a remarkably detailed answer, covering everything from the legal ramifications of world football's governing body being held liable for such accidents to whether Chelsea might employ a similarly litigious approach.

It was great fun, not least for seeing Greenberg thoroughly chastened. But Mourinho's acidic response to having his authority undermined was also illuminating. It proved two things: first, that for managers like Jose Mourinho, control is everything; and second, what a dreadful mistake it would be for the 44-year-old to decamp to the Real Madrid mad-house.

The Cementerio de la Almudena may be one of the Spanish capital's prime tourist attractions, but just recently the city has attracted more renown as a managerial graveyard. Vicente Del Bosque won the Primera Liga and was rewarded with the sack; Carlos Queiroz, his replacement, was quickly pining for the safety of his Manchester United assistant's role; now Fabio Capello is having his reputation as a ruthless disciplinarian shredded before his eyes.

All discovered, to their cost, that at the Santiago Bernabeu power is wielded in the boardroom, not the dug-out. Transfers, contract negotiations, even team selections are made by a small band of suits around the club president, with the coach assuming little more than an advisory role. The point was made eloquently earlier this season when Capello's decision to ostracise David Beckham was swiftly reversed after a quiet word from El Presidente, Ramon Calderon.

It would be intriguing to see how the notoriously power-mad Mourinho would react to such interference - intriguing in the same way that throwing a lighted cigarette into a fireworks factory would be intriguing. The explosions would be gloriously entertaining, but you wouldn't want to be caught in the blast zone.

We have had several glimpses of an irked Mourinho this season, and it is not a pretty sight. The manager was annoyed at having Andriy Shevchenko foisted upon him by Roman Abramovich; was angry at the presence of Frank Arnesen, Chelsea's technical director, at the training ground; and was positively livid when Abramovich toyed with the idea of sacking his assistant Steve Clarke. With Mourinho, the rules are clear: if you are not part of his coaching coterie, you stay off the grass.

Most managers who play politics with their employers are destined for a grisly fate, regardless of the success they enjoy. Mourinho has survived for two reasons: he has retained the backing both of Chelsea supporters - who warm to his unapologetic bloody-mindedness - and, more importantly, of his totemic players.

Petr Cech, John Terry, Michael Essien, Frank Lampard and Didier Drogba - the steel-clad spine of the reigning Premiership champions - are all part of Mourinho's inner sanctum and fiercely loyal to him. It is no coincidence that rumours of the manager's impending departure have prompted speculation about the futures of Lampard and Terry, both of whom would follow their coach to the ends of the earth, or at least central Spain.

It is almost beyond doubt Mourinho's third season at Stamford Bridge will also be his last - regardless of his occasional, half-hearted protestations. Real's representatives have already made contact with his agent and clubs of their cachet usually get their man.

If he applied a modicum of logic to his decision, Mourinho would see Madrid as nothing more than a pleasant option for a city break, but he is not a rational man. Ego fuels his professional decisions and the prospect of revitalising one of the game's true greats - a reputation undented by years of chronic underachievement - must be mouthwatering.

Presumably Queiroz and Capello felt the same. They stumbled because Real, with their top-heavy management structure, crumbling youth system and swollen wage bill, are fast-tracked towards failure.

And Mourinho, robbed of his autonomy, would be no different.