Life has hit Luis Enrique hard.

In 2019, he lost his nine-year-old daughter Xana to a rare form of bone cancer.

He has spoken about her with remarkable calm. "Her body is gone," he said, "but she hasn't died. She's still with us."

In a deeply moving documentary, he talked about visiting his mother.

"My mother couldn't keep photos of Xana. Until I came home and asked, 'Why are there no photos of Xana, Mom?' 'I can't, I can't…,' she used to say. 'Mom, you have to put up photos of Xana, Xana is alive,' I replied."

"Physically, she may not be here, but spiritually she is. Because every day we talk about her, we laugh, and we remember because I think Xana still sees us."

In her memory, he and his wife have launched a foundation to help families of terminally ill children - especially those who can't afford to stop working during their child's final months.

It's an act of love and fierce purpose. Like everything he does.

He is a man grounded in more ways than one.

For over two years, he's walked barefoot most mornings on the grass of the pitches of the PSG training ground.

He's convinced that 'earthing' helps him avoid spring allergies and reconnect with something deeper.

He's strict with his body, too. He stretches every 30 minutes at the training ground, trains daily - even at home sometimes, weaving between sofas and walls - and has turned both house and office into functional gyms, with straps and bars hanging from ceilings and walls.

He enjoys surfing, swimming, endurance running and long cycle rides up the steep climbs of Spain's Picos de Europa.

In 2007, he completed the Frankfurt Ironman challenge - a 2.4-mile swim, a 118-mile cycle and a full marathon. The following year, he ran the legendary Marathon de Sables, a 155-mile race over six days in the Sahara desert.

"I only know how to compete," he said to himself when he retired from playing in 2004. Managing was the only option for the former Barcelona and Spain forward.

As a coach, Luis Enrique has copied the philosophy of his former team-mate Pep Guardiola from the beginning.

He hasn't brought anything truly new to the table, but, using the tonnes of energy he has, he has become one of the top representatives of a broader cultural shift.

His relentless edge is now driving everything at Paris St-Germain, although initially he didn't even want the job.

He thought the club only cared about names. Players such as Neymar, Lionel Messi and Kylian Mbappe. Uncoachable, he assumed.

But when he heard the philosophy had changed - that they now wanted to build a team - he reconsidered.

And, soon after he arrived, Neymar and Marco Verratti were gone. Messi, who might have stayed had he known Luis Enrique was coming, had already committed to Inter Miami.

He understands and appreciates the importance of individual stars, but only up to a point.

In a recent documentary about his first season at PSG, he was seen warning Mbappe, his star player at the time, about his obligation to fulfil his defensive duties - just after the player had scored a hat-trick.

"He's the best player in the world," the Asturian insisted several times. "But if the team with the best player in the world always won, PSG would have eight Champions League titles and they haven't had any."

He is a manager who respects structure, but is never afraid to speak his mind.

"I'm not afraid of the worst in football... if they sack me, no problem," he said. "The next day, I'll go for a cycling trip."

It's that perspective that helped him ride out a rocky start last season - including a 4–1 loss to Newcastle in the Champions League and heavy criticism from the supporters.

But he stayed calm and kept faith in his footballing beliefs. Structure, repetition, and positional discipline.

His dream? One day, managers will have mics in the stands and be able to talk players through their positions during a match.

He had to rewire a squad addicted to chaos when he arrived in Paris.

So he spent little time in an office, instead sitting with his assistants, working directly with his players and embedding his ideas.

Some players push back against his intensity. Mbappe, for example, didn't love being boxed in as a number nine or publicly challenged after a hat-trick.

But others thrive, because he doesn't do favourites.

He could not care less if the media don't like him.

The three-part documentary about his life is titled You Lot Haven't Got A Clue - a message to the media and a window into how little their opinions affect him.

He admitted, if it were up to him, he would take a 50% pay cut if that meant he would not have to speak to the media again.

"I don't read the opinions of the journalists," he once said, "not because of a lack of respect, but because, logically, they haven't dedicated even 10% of the time, nor do they have the information, that my staff and I have on any given issue."

And there lies another contradiction - a coach unwilling to give one-on-one interviews, yet prepared to expose himself for all to see in a documentary.

Not for the first time, either.

Nothing was off-limits when, during the World Cup in Qatar, much of Spain was glued to their computer screens as Luis Enrique, then in charge of the national team, spent hours on Twitch answering questions on all aspects of his life as far ranging as why he ate six eggs a day, hated cheese and slept naked.

His reasons for his regular streams were the same as why he agreed to the documentary: to offer his most honest version and let people judge.