Karim Adeyemi did not score in Barcelona's 7-2 demolition of Racing Santander, and it hardly mattered. The 24-year-old German winger was everywhere in that game, running relentlessly, beating his man, and pulling the Camp Nou crowd into every touch. His numbers told the story of a player who affected the match without appearing on the scoresheet: eight shots, six completed dribbles, four chances created, five balls recovered, two penalties won and an assist.

That is a full afternoon of production from a player still settling into a new league. For a coaching audience, it is a useful reminder that the box score lies. Adeyemi's contribution barely registers if you only glance at the goals column, and yet by any modern measure of a wide attacker's impact he was one of the most influential players on the pitch.

The player and the person

Inside Barcelona, the picture painted of Adeyemi is of a genuinely unusual character. Teammates and staff describe a player with striking manners and curiosity, someone who takes an interest in subjects well outside the usual footballer's world. That same independence shows up in how he plays: a free spirit who wants to do something different with the ball every time he gets it, rather than the safe, expected thing.

Players like that are a gift and a headache in equal measure. The gift is the unpredictability that pulls defenders out of shape and creates the two penalties and the assist. The headache is that the free spirit does not always fit the pattern, does not always make the tidy decision, and can frustrate a coach who wants structure.

How Flick handles him

Hansi Flick's approach with Adeyemi has been described in almost paternal terms, an older figure guiding a talented younger one rather than trying to flatten him into a system. That is a deliberate choice. Flick is not asking Adeyemi to stop being Adeyemi. He is building the relationship first, giving the player the sense that his individuality is welcome, and then channeling it.

This is where American coaches can learn something concrete. Most of us have coached the kid who is the best dribbler on the team and also the most maddening, the one who tries the outrageous pass when the simple one was on. The instinct is to coach the risk out of him. Flick's example suggests the opposite: protect the thing that makes him dangerous, connect with him as a person, and earn the right to fine-tune the decisions once he trusts you.

What to take to training

Two practical habits come out of this. First, change how you evaluate your creative wide players in front of the whole team. When you review a game, call out chances created, duels won, dribbles completed and balls recovered, not just goals and assists. Your free spirit needs to hear that you see the full picture, or he will start chasing goals to feel valued and abandon the very play that helps you.

Second, invest in the relationship before you invest in the correction. A player who feels understood will accept coaching that a player who feels boxed in will resist. Flick got a Camp Nou performance out of Adeyemi that did not need a goal to be excellent, and the groundwork for that was laid off the pitch as much as on it. That order, person first and role second, is the part worth stealing.