Peter Crouch, Spurs’ less-than-secret weapon, self-destructed on board the good ship Spurs before Admiral Redknapp had a chance to launch it at Madrid’s formidable armada last night.
Crouch, Tottenham’s experienced striker with over 40 England caps and Champions League experience from his Liverpool days, allowed adrenaline and the enormity of the occasion to affect his judgement, made two rash, needless lunging tackles while Madrid were in possession in harmless areas of the pitch, and was sent off for two yellow cards after just 14 minutes.
Tottenham’s best footballer, Rafael van der Vaart, was deemed surplus to requirements at Madrid, which demonstrates the gulf in class between these two sets of players, one which Spurs aimed to bridge by launching balls towards their ship’s mast.
The tactic had served Tottenham well so far. Despite scoring just two goals in 27 Premier League appearances in the physical Premier League this season Crouch had hit seven in his nine Champions League appearances before last night. As in the San Siro in the last round Spurs immediately looked to pump diagonal balls into crouch from deep.
Perhaps Crouch knew that his height was one of the only, if not the only, way of scoring the hallowed away goal in the Bernabeu. Maybe he was too fired up. He was obviously not himself. As a television pundit remarked those were the only two tackles of that manner he had ever seen Crouch make.
It would have been interesting to see how much of a threat Crouch would have been against a centre-back and coach who know him well. The element not so much of surprise, but of inexperience was a factor in Crouch’s healthy European goal haul. Riccardo Carvalho limited the big man to just two goals in their thirteen meetings in English football, and Jose Mourinho knows how to deal with the direct approach from his Chelsea days.
The sending off was devastating for Spurs fans, of course, but also for neutrals such as myself, who had watched several rousing displays from a courageous Spurs side that threw themselves into unknown waters and had reaped the rewards. With ten men Tottenham’s uphill battle was nigh-on vertical. Their simple game-plan had been undone and with one man less and chasing possession for long periods, Spurs were simply too tired to provide any manner of comeback, as could be seen by the usually indefatigable Gareth Bale going down with cramp with some time left to play.
In truth the game, and indeed the tie, finished after 14 minutes. What a shame for all except relieved Madridistas, who were almost handed a bye in their first quarter-final appearance since 2004. “Tonto” they chanted as the lanky, disconsolate silhouette of Crouch left the field without so much as a glance of acknowledgment from his manager. Stupid indeed. How ironic that the hero of so many games before let his head, the weapon that his side relied on, get the better of him. Ultimately the hero became the villain in this Spanish tragedy.
Without sounding smug…OK, sounding smug, I wrote before the January transfer window of Chelsea’s need to bring in one or two players who would add youthful vitality to a somewhat tired and familiar starting eleven, but who already had the necessary experience that would allow their bedding in period to be as short as possible.
Yesterday the inspired new signing David Luiz scored his second crucial goal against teams above Chelsea in the table – the Manchesters United and City – and was joined by fellow Brazilian Ramires, whose deft turn, dribble and finish announced his delayed arrival at Chelsea.
The ‘forcing’ of Fernando Torres on Carlo Ancelotti by Roman Abramovich is reminiscent of the ill-fated signing of Andrei Shevchenko, but given the Spaniard’s Premier League record it is destined to have a happier ending, whether that happens later rather than sooner or not. Torres, Didier Drogba and Nicolas Anelka, at a combined cost to Abramovich of £89m, have scored just one goal between them in the six games since Torres’ arrival yet Chelsea have made progress despite this.
In my opinion the arrival of Luiz has been the, and not just one of the, reasons for this. Goals aside, this frizzy-haired bundle of energy has produced a tangible reaction in the determination and work-rate in his team-mates, helping to exorcise the ghost of Christmas lethargy that haunted the club around the tune of the year. I could even speculate that the arrival of a familiar face and fellow compatriot has been beneficial to the mentality of Ramires, whose increased confidence as he waltzed through Joleon Lescott, Aleksander Kolarov and Petr Cech to score Chelsea’s second yesterday afternoon was there for all to see.
Luiz has also produced a positive reaction among the Chelsea fans. He has the flaws we Europeans expect of Brazilian defenders, being relatively attack-minded, positionally suspect and rash in his challenges at times (just ask Alex Ferguson). He also goes about his game with complete conviction and a never-say-die attitude that lifts the fans; already a terrace hero for his goals, he has influenced the Stamford Bridge faithful perhaps more than they themselves realise.
With Luiz in central defence alongside John Terry, Chelsea’s defence is much more versatile and capable of handling an array of different styles of attacker. Although Alex is an excellent defender, he won his starting place by default with the departure of Ricardo Carvalho, and he and Terry are of a similar mould, too similar to be one of the world’s best partnership. Terry has the calm head and leadership to Luiz’s mobility and hyperactivity.
Both Terry and Luiz are dangerous from set-pieces, and have scored three goals between them since the Brazilian’s arrival (or three times more than the aforementioned trio of strikers). Rather than being led from the front by the £50m investment of Torres, Luiz has sneaked into Stamford Bridge through the back door to make the difference from the back.
Three crucial wins in the last three league games, and Chelsea have climbed up to third place with Arsenal and Manchester United still to face each other, with just six points to make it up to the summit should they win their game in hand on United. Suddenly things are looking up at Chelsea, and this is by no small part due to Luiz’s arrival. Luiz is the light, and he has finally guided his team-mates from their dark days.
While Serie A fans have been aware of the talents of Udinese’s Alexis Sanchez for some time now, it can’t be long before he becomes a household name a la Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi. Another mesmeric strike from the Chilean at the weekend and two assists for striker partner Antonio Di Natale make his performance in the 4-0 drubbing of Cagliari just the latest in a string of outstanding performances for the Bianconeri, who are sitting in fourth place and have a good chance to qualify for the Champions League for the first time in six seasons.
Sanchez’s raw pace, silken skills and creativity are reminiscent of Ronaldo, as is his love affair with the step-over. Indeed his evolution as a player has taken a similar path to that of the Portuguese, in that he has become a much more effective, direct weapon since his manager shifted him into a central striking role. At the start of the season Sanchez was starting either on the right wing or even on the bench. Then, on Halloween of last year, he was played up front with Di Natale and scored in a 2-0 win – his first goal of the season on his tenth performance.
Although that was a promising start, Sanchez was moved back to the wing. The presence of fellow strikers Bernardo Corradi, German Denis and Antonio Floro Flores kept him out wide, where his pace and trickery made him a constant threat, and at the half-way point of the Serie A season he had completed more dribbles than any other player in the league. In the next few games head coach Francesco Guidolin rotated Sanchez and Floro Flores in the central role alongside the prolific Di Natale.
Ironically it was a 3-2 loss to Lazio on 19th December that changed the fortunes of Udinese’s season for the better. Sanchez started up front, scored, and started on a red hot streak of form that has seen him score 11 goals in his last 12 games. He impressed so much in the role that the club allowed Floro Flores to join Genoa on loan for the rest of the season with the option of an 8.5 million Euro transfer in the summer, making way for Sanchez and Di Natale to gel into a highly effective partnership. He has now scored 12 goals in 26 Serie A performances so far this season, more than twice as many as he managed from the wing last season and exactly the same number as he has scored in his 32 appearances for Chile.
It is almost certain that Sanchez will make the big-money transfer his talents demands in the summer. Udinese are a selling club, making progress by buying young, developing and selling talent on for an increased transfer fee which they then use to buy more youngsters. In past seasons players such as Italian internationals Fabio Quagliarella and Vincenzo Iaquinta have been bought and sold in this manner. Di Natale has broken that mould by committing himself to Udinese for the remainder of his career, but while Sanchez is no doubt grateful for the progress he has made in Udine as a player, there is no doubt he will be keen to make a move to one of the biggest clubs in the world.
Barcelona’s scouts were present to watch Sanchez score four as Udinese demolished Palermo 7-0 in Sicily last month, a result which ended the tenure of Delio Rossi as Palermo’s head coach and which earned Sanchez a place in my11’s weekly Golazo video (56 seconds in):
As a winger-turned-striker Barca’s 4-3-3 would suit Sanchez perfectly but as with any player who joins Barca, irrespective of their class or reputation, he is not guaranteed regular first team football. Just ask Javier Mascherano.
Sir Alex Ferguson is well aware of Sanchez’s ability, saying: "He's a young player with a very promising future. Sanchez has so much talent that if he continues his progression, he could reach the level of Cristiano Ronaldo." Sanchez need only to look at Ronaldo’s progression from a lanky show pony to a ripped goal machine and the highest-paid player in the world to see how Ferguson could help develop him as a player but then nobody, not even the man himself it seems, is sure how many more years he will remain at Old Trafford, and what will happen to the club after that point. Any offer United were to make would of course be limited by how much money the Glazer family make available.
If Sanchez is motivated by money, it is likely he will be tempted by Manchester City, who have the financial clout to outbid any other club. If City qualify for the Champions League for the first time in their history it is likely that they will be able to make signings of Sanchez’s quality, but then the player might want to stay in Italy, where his career has flourished so far.
Although he did not score in this particular match (but did provide an assist), Sanchez’s stunning performance against Inter Milan in a 3-1 win over the treble winners towards the end of the January transfer window led to widespread rumours that Inter were going to swoop for him in January, and also that Chelsea were lining up a £26m bid, but Guidolin said (to Italian TV station Rai Due): "I know Udinese is a serious club. The club have reiterated that Sanchez will remain at Udinese until the end of the season and I have no doubts on this matter.
"Of course, if a tempting offer would arrive it would be right for the club to evaluate it but I believe that Alexis can still grow from here on until the end of the season if he stayed with us.
"After that, he is destined, considering the quality he has shown for some time, to join a top club."
It is understandable for Udinese to want to wait until the summer so that they have more time to build up a bidding war, and to use the funds they receive to replace Sanchez with one or probably two new players. They will be sad to see him leave but, there is every chance his goals will have secured Champions League football and revenue for them next season, and they stand to make a profit of, at the very least, ten times the three million dollars they paid for him as a 17 year old.
Whether he will line-up next to Messi, Fernando Torres or Wayne Rooney next year, one club will have a player who already has many star qualities and looks set to improve as he continues to flourish in his new central role. If he continues at this rate his star is set to explode.
A glimpse of what Alexis Sanchez will bring to his future club:
Having had two experiences of cubes - men who are as wide as they are tall - in the past few days, I felt compelled to question the reason for their existence.
Firstly there was a contestant on the game show ‘Take Me Out’. Before you ask I went to school with one of the contestants and watched it in the hope he’s make a complete tit out of himself. He did of course, but was overshadowed by the contestant before him: a short personal trainer, with crazy hair and an opaque shirt revealing his bulging muscles beneath.
For those that haven’t seen the show, thirty women are lit up, and have to turn their light off if the single male contestant doesn’t turn them on. The man then chooses which of the remaining contestants to take on a date. This little chap was doing alright until they ran a VT of him oiled up, flexing and growling. All thirty lights turned off. In short, a decent looking man who spends hours every day perfecting his appearance could not persuade even one of thirty slappers to go on a free holiday with him for this very reason.
The second was a trip to the gym yesterday. I dread the rush hour gym even more than my commute home. It’s as busy as a train but infinitely more painful, and of course you have that nagging knowledge that you don’t really have to be there. As unbearable as the sea of sweaty, pumping flesh is the conversation. Usually I put my ipod on full blast and get it over with, but today was different.
My ipod was nicked on the weekend for one, but earphones of any strength would not have protected my ears against the guy I unfortunately encountered. “NINE, TEN, ELEVEN!…TWELVE!! RAHHH!! He threw his massive weights to the floor, looking around for admirers before flexing at his angry red reflection in the mirror. No more than 5ft 4 in height; veins bulging; testosterone leaking from his eyeballs, here was a prime example of the cube in his natural habitat.
With no headphones to save me, lying on my back, pinned to a bench with weights I could barely lift, I was easy prey. “Here we go,” I thought, at his little sweaty hands grabbed my arms. “EIGHT, NINE, TEN…ONE MORE!!...ELEVEN…ONE MORE!!!” Just fuck off. I was in enough physical and mental pain before you arrived to alert the whole gym to my struggle. What then followed was a lecture on arms, or core strength, or some other mindless crap that contributes to the endless flow of gym changing room bollocks heard on every visit.
I digress. The point is that no woman on earth would have wanted to be crushed in this human vice of self-consciousness and not so well hidden complexes. Having little man syndrome is understandable, but by gaining more and more muscle and becoming increasingly wider these testosterone-fuelled shorties merely make themselves appear even shorter. One of the golden rules of fashion is that horizontal stripes make the body appear shorter as they draw attention to width and not height. Thus small men, while they do not want to appear skinny of course, do not do themselves any favours by becoming too wide.
Personally, I go to the gym to avoid being labelled as lanky and to make myself more attractive to women, so I suppose I have similar motivation. But there is a limit between keeping fit and self-obsessed vanity; between cuboid and cube, and unfortunately the shorter you are, the lower that limit is. If anyone passes this limit, like the two men above, to a level at which most women no longer find them attractive, are they doing so for themselves, or to impress other men? Are they unaware of the limit in the first place? Either way it’s not doing them any favours. For their own sake these cubes need to look in the mirror, as I’m sure they often do, and tell themselves that enough is enough.
Another feast of goals; the best from around the world in the past week.
Featuring some household names and some you will have never heard of. Watch out for Ruud ter Heide putting Wayne Rooney's 'wonder goal' to shame, and a cracking top corner job from a 16-year-old!
Real visionaries don’t pay much attention to the crowds; Arsene knows. Yet Arsenal have been exposed once again by a problem that everyman from pundit to pub expert has known about for years – a lack of experience at central defence. Laurent Koscielny may well develop to be a better player than Roger Johnson or Martin Jiranek, he may even already be more technically adept than his opposite numbers yesterday, but experience breeds calmness under pressure and yesterday Koscielny’s lack of both of these qualities cost Arsenal their first taste of silver and champagne for six long years.
Anyone can make mistakes, but the top teams around Arsenal who have been winning trophies would have been greeted with a far more assured combination of defender and goalkeeper than Koscielny and Wojciech Szczesny. Manchester United, who have won seven major honours since losing the FA Cup final to Arsenal in 2005 and Chelsea, with five, both have far more experience in these areas, and these factors are closely linked.
Experience also teaches leadership and influence, both of which Arsenal were lacking in yesterday. Their captain Cesc Fabregas missed the match through injury, as did Thomas Vermaelen. In their absence Jack Wilshire exuded more in the way of leadership than his age might suggest, but he was almost alone in this aspect. Injuries happen, and there is a chance Fabregas might move to Barcelona. The more a team turn to players such as Fabregas to pull them through difficult moments, the more he will be missed.
Great teams have leaders all over the pitch. The ‘invincibles’ of 2003-4 had Thierry Henry, Jens Lehmann, Martin Keown, Sol Campbell, Gilberto Silva and Dennis Bergkamp to lead the way when the difficult moments arose. Since then Wenger has made many signings based on physical attributes whilst neglecting the balance of mentalities in the side: Alexander Hleb, Thomas Rosicky, Andrei Arshavin, Theo Walcott. The general feeling now is that Arsenal are a small team both physically and mentally, one which can be pushed around and beaten and will concede goals via set pieces (52% in the Premier League this season).
This problem cannot be rectified in one transfer window and may take a complete change in Arsene Wenger’s transfer policy. Lack of experience is not an excuse that he can continue to use to patch over his side’s deficiencies, as it is he who is responsible for that factor in the first place. So many people have said that Arsenal need an experienced centre-back, and although he has bought the 30-year-old Sebastien Squillaci Wenger chose to use Koscielny and Johan Djourou, a move that backfired yesterday as Birmingham’s inferior team were allowed to defeat his because of that one moment when an experienced calm head was needed.
In my opinion Wenger should do everything possible to sign Phillippe Mexes. The 28-year-old Roma and France centre-back is out of contract at the end of the season, is exactly what Arsenal need and could form a formidable partnership with Thomas Vermaelen to give Arsenal stability, leadership and consistency at the back for the next few years, one which could make the difference between winning trophies and falling at the final hurdle as seen at Wembley yesterday.
During Tottenham’s thrilling encounter with AC Milan at the San Siro Harry Redknapp let slip that his tactical prowess is much greater than he wants us to believe. Inter Milan may have taught Spurs a lesson in the first of his first big European examinations in the San Siro this season, but the good news for Tottenham is that Redknapp and his boys in white learned from it, before passing the retake with flying colours.
On paper this test was harder than that of the preliminary stage; whereas Rafa Benitez’s Inter were floundering in the shadow of their treble success, Massimo Allegri’s side have been rejuvenated by the signings and subsequent resurgence in form of Zlatan Ibrahimovic and Robinho. They are six points clear at the top of Serie A as a result, having won 4-0 against Parma on this very pitch in their previous match.
Last October Spurs were bewildered by an Inter side that went 4-0 up inside 35 minutes, in a geometry lesson led by Javier Zanetti; a steep learning curva indeed. This time Spurs started from the off, with the clear game plan of refusing to allow Milan to settle on the ball, to get it wide and to target the obvious aerial threat of Peter Crouch. A good first five minutes were crucial, but Spurs continued to play with an intensity to which Milan were not accustomed for the entire first half, dominating chances on goal.
At Monday’s press conference Redknapp did his best happy-go-lucky act when declaring that his squad had not the players to defend; no bus to park. Instead they would go out and attack: the same naïve approach that has been the undoing of many inexperienced English teams away from home in the Champions League. After the smoke of mind games cleared like a red flare dispersing into the wet misty air, the reality was that Redknapp played Wilson Palacios and the vastly inexperienced Sandro as two tenacious yet disciplined holding midfielders, who barely strayed from their posts.
The result was that they dominated Clarence Seedorf, who floated, or more like flitted ineffectively between Milan’s three defensively minded midfielders, Thiago Silva, Gennaro Gattuso and Massimo Ambrosini, and the front two of Robinho and Ibrahimovic so much so that the Dutchman, the one and only winner of three European Cups with different sides in history, was replaced at half time. Instead it was Robinho who was charged with the creative role, and Alexandre Pato was introduced beside the Swede to inject some pace.
Having dominated the first half but failing to score, Tottenham were still fired up, still biting into the experienced Milanese midfield at every opportunity. Spurs rode their luck somewhat with two world-class saves from Heurelho Gomes early in the second half, and could easily have been led, through fear, to attack in a fight rather than flight reaction. After all, Spurs are the most cavalier side to have advanced from the group stages, scoring 16 and conceding 11. Instead, Redknapp and his team kept their heads while the Italian side lost theirs.
What followed can only be described as old-fashioned Catenaccio from Tottenham; Redknapp’s side ‘bolting the door’ on Milan in their own back yard by using one of the oldest tricks in the Italian book of tactics, one which got its nickname from Helenio Herrera’s Inter Milan side of the 1960s in this very stadium and has characterised many of the greatest patient Italian sides since, including AC Milan themselves in the 80s and 90s. This was made yet more ironic by the highlights of famous tactical AC Milan victories, and the speech of the bellissima Martina Colombari (wife of one Alessandro Costacurta), in the Heineken Lounge at half-time.
In short, the English students gave the Italian veterans a master-class of defending deep and with great organisation. When the chance came they broke with pace, again playing to their strengths. The slightly less tactically-astute but lighting fast Aaron Lennon was pushed up on the right, ready to break when released by the calm decision-making of substitute Luca Modric after Milan’s full backs had both been pulled forward. Lennon left Milan’s cultured yet somewhat pedestrian central defenders in tatters as he skipped past Mario Yepes before rendering the usually unflappable Italian Alessandro Nesta (the last in a rich vein of patient, tactically astute AC Milan defenders from Franco Baresi and Costacurta himself through Paolo Maldini) completely helpless with a bisecting pass to Crouch, who slotted home.
The game ended with the self-destruction, on and off the pitch, of another Milan icon: captain Gennaro Gattuso. In the dying seconds Nesta and co. panicked further as goalkeeper Marco Amelia charged forward for a corner without invitation, thus jeopardising the home team’s final attack. Few would have predicted the score line, but fewer still would have predicted the manner in which the victory was achieved, or that it would be Harry Redknapp to leave the pitch at the San Siro smug in the knowledge that, on the evidence of this enthralling 90 minutes of vintage Champions League football, the pupil had become the master.
After writing without bias for too long, I decided to let go after an emotional comeback against Blackpool. If you're not a United fan this may make you want to puke, but frankly my dear, I don't give a damn...
What a match. We were suddenly back to the United of old: the careless start then attacking flair and literal bloody mindedness to win at any cost. There would always be blood, sweat and tears at Bloomfield Road, just as there was at Burnley last year. I feared that before the match and especially when we went a goal down early on.
It just had to be Cathcart, the lad who was at United as a trainee. I’m reading Catch 22 at the moment, in which General Cathcart sends the American soldiers to the doom of more missions against the Germans. Another Yank and former Red Jonathan Spector started the rout at West Ham in our only loss of the season, a nightmare from which Jonny Evans has only just woken up. The law of the ex; the first time we had faced Blackpool in over 40 years. Just as I did after going 1-0 down to Burnley, I feared the way the Blackpool match was going. It looked written, but enough about the book. Football rarely follows the plot.
This time the tears belonged to brave old Blackpool, their ludicrous manager and their ludicrous fans. Their jubilation at 2-0 was absolutely hilarious. My particular favourite was a shot of a tangerine-skinned man (fake tan not face paint) in a pair of sunglasses that spelt ‘Blackpool’ with the ‘o’s as eyes, then a cut to a person in a hood with a face fully covered in wool inexplicably spinning round and round in circles.
For that I almost forgave ESPN and the early kick-off for forcing me to watch the match alone in Soho in a shithole pub after work, in which the old pisshead sitting almost on my knee tried to claim I was drinking his pint every time I brought one back from the bar. The more he did this and subsequently slurred bollocks to me whilst melting my face with his breath, the more pints I bought. That bloody book again.
Blackpool were fantastic in the first half. Their technique almost matched their passion, and rather than soaking up United’s pressure and scoring on the break, they kept pressing forward and forced two goals from well-earned set pieces. They reminded me of why, until then at least, I had enjoyed watching them this season - their fearless style of play (and the fact they have beaten Liverpool twice).
As the half drew to a close they had us kicking out in frustration, as first Paul Scholes and then Darron Gibson were booked. If this match proved United’s determination it also proved Gibson’s inadequacy. He may be Irish but he ain’t no Keano; he may pack a shot but he ain’t no Scholesy. What we’re left with is a central midfielder with no particular calibre in attack or defence, like an Anderson but without the determination or resolve. He was the worst player on the pitch by some distance, and was thankfully withdrawn for Giggsy at the interval. Giggs needed a rest after his heroics on Saturday, but the reason why the gritty, tenacious Brazilian was on the bench for Blackpool away is only known by one man.
Ferguson, however, has not lost his touch. A dejected man on the plastic orange seats in the Bloomfield Road dugout, you could see the anger boiling within his red face. This was a match that would have given at least four teams great hope had it been lost. The Birmingham match aside, United had been somewhat complacent for a while despite their place at the peak of the league table. There is no doubting Ferguson’s half-time team talk was as old school as the facilities. This match was replayed because of a lack of under-soil heating during the cold... an old Scotsman doubtlessly snapped at the interval with enough steam to fly a hot air balloon, never mind thaw a football pitch.
Dimitar Berbatov sprang into action. It seems he has finally, belatedly, learned what is expected of him. He’s a mere cog, not the scratchproof glass on United’s Rolex. The result is five goals in two matches; superb build-up play and, crucially, the stamina to wind the clock down whilst defending a narrow lead when down to ten men. During the (for once) unwelcome period of injury time - 10 minutes - he always showed for the ball, knowing when to hold play up and when to deftly release Chicharito, who came on to make relentless darting, direct runs which were consistently found by the Bulgarian. Eric and Ole in the making?
It may be too soon for such comparisons, but the rapid progress of Rafael shows that we have the real deal here. Whilst chasing a deficit he was at times United’s best player both in defence and going forward. Although his head may hurt tomorrow after he was carried off on a stretcher with concussion, the lad’s heart cannot be doubted (particularly confusing was the constant camera switches from Rafael on a stretcher receiving medical attention to Rafael standing up and worriedly looking over at himself. It was Fabio of course, but for a second it looked like little Rafa had died in a cheap film).
Blackpool’s equally large heart, meanwhile, was ultimately broken. For once I’m tempted to feel sympathy and sorrow for this group of plucky over-achievers and their charismatic boss, but unfortunately for them games are 90 minutes long, and they have been beaten by a United side focussed on a much bigger prize that they themselves narrowly missed out on last season, and that they now have the momentum to go and win.
The ‘scandal’ surrounding the sexist comments of Andy Gray and Richard Keys should really be a celebration. Two of the most respected, experienced men in English football television have been corrected in an offside dispute by a female official who let her judgement do the talking, and the attitudes of an older generation of men have been highlighted and ridiculed. It has also exposed the press as being either over-cautious without a true freedom of speech, or simply ignorant of the male inhabitants of their own country.
While most people reading the news yesterday (apart from maybe Daily Mail readers to whom the sting was perfectly targeted) are aware that some men of a certain age still carry out-dated social sentiments that are discussed in private (or in the case of Keys and Gray into a functioning microphone), the only ones to be truly offended were those writing the articles. Perhaps they had their professional caps on too tight and were worried of what implications the slightest lack of shock or disgust could have on their careers. Maybe they were surrounded by intelligent, opinionated, articulate female writers. I hope they have such excuses to offer, because otherwise it shows that they are not representative of their readership.
If the journalists I read yesterday in the Times and online from a few sources are really that offended, they have obviously never been to what we call ‘a pub’. Now, by a pub I don’t mean a London bar with mood lighting and chill-out music in which you may sup a delicious German weissbier whilst enjoying hummus and olives; a place in which you may see a Jamie Redknapp type with his fitted suits and modern outlook on life. I don’t mean a chain pub full of cockney ‘Man Yoo’ fans or toffs in rugby shirts and loafers. I mean a working man’s boozer, with drip trays and tankards; a place in which older men release darts and farts with equal gusto and accuracy and in which I feel no older than I did when I were knee high to a grasshopper, peering through smoke and man boobs to get a glimpse of the footy. In such an establishment you might see an Andy Gray type, with beer belly and bollocks flopped in ill-fitting clothes, merrily chewing the fat with his contemporaries.
In such a place one can take stock of the true attitudes of the older gentlemen in our society. The humour is crude but ultimately harmless. Where once it would be acceptable to show a racist attitude it now is not; the ‘Big Ron’ Atkinson types have been booted out of the vault along with their archaic, offensive slurs. I was lucky enough to interview Viv Anderson, the first black man to play for England. He told me of visiting a boozer near Old Trafford (when he was playing for Manchester United) called the Pomona Palace, in which he stuck out like a sore thumb, partly because of his race, partly because he asked for a drop of lime in his bitter. Twenty or so years on racism is all but dead in English social life and has even been conquered in football, which was commonly seen to be the last bastion of such disgusting prejudice.
What does remain is a slight tinge of tongue-in-cheek sexism, insofar as I might goad a female friend if she makes a well-informed comment on football match that’s on in the pub. She would not be offended, and might later poke fun at my lack of domestication. She’s there watching the game with me, a sight that would not be allowed in the old-school working men’s clubs. Times have moved on and women know much more about the game now than they used to, as seen by the excellent performance of Sian Massey at the weekend, but there is still a lingering spectre of sexism. Karren Brady, vice-chairman (/woman?! Got to be careful here!) of West Ham, admitted as much in the very column Gray and Keys referred to during their less than candid conversation: "I know more about the offside law than perhaps a girl should," she wrote.
Jokes aside, sexism is dead for my generation, as it is for the majority of the older English generation. Gray and Keys are merely fossils of a bygone age in English social life from which most men have evolved. However, for the press be so surprised and shocked by two middle-aged men doubting the decision of a female football official is either naïve or simply false. Maybe they need to leave their politically-correct bubble and sample the real world. Pork scratching?
The footballing world gasped in amazement last night as Barcelona confirmed the self-belief that they are the best team in the world by a very large margin. Up until kick-off in Camp Nou, Real Madrid could almost have pretended that they were, after their unbeaten start to the season, on the same planet as their most hated rivals. No more. Real can be the Galacticos if they like, but here on earth at present Barcelona ply the most pure brand of the beautiful game.
How frustrating it must be for Real Madrid. How helpless they must feel. As much as Jose Mourinho tethers and tenders to his fallow hotbed of talent, he can only gaze enviously at Pep Guardiola and his lush garden of red and blue, the seeds of which were sown long before he arrived. Having proved his worth on many a foreign field, Mourinho’s ultimate challenge is now the very club with which his skills were first honed.
Never can I recall footballers of such quality being humiliated in such a manner. The best goalkeeper in the world was helpless as five goals were slotted past him. What a different figure Iker Casillas cut from the last time the eyes of the world were on him, as he bawled his way to victory in the World Cup final. This time the tears were shed for a very different reason. At least Casillas could, for most of the match at least, escape the spotlight. For the ten outfield players there was no place to hide as Barca’s peerless tici taca left Real Madrid chasing shadows, so precise were the one-touch triangles played in and around the white shirts of Madrid.
Comparisons to bulls and matadors are inevitable but very much deserved. While Madrid chased and charged, fuming with heads down, their ever-growing red mist was fuelled by the inability to ignore the thousands of fans goading them all around. They eventually snapped out, leading to several 20-man handbag sessions. Cristiano Ronaldo, eclipsed by Lionel Messi and chums on his big day, was booked for pushing Pep Guardiola; Messi was booked for apparently simulating contact between his face and the elbow of Ricardo Carvalho. The passion and petulance was there for both sides as expected, but only one team was allowed to play. It was Barca’s ball, Barca’s playground and Real Madrid was the tearful slow kid in the middle, sniffling red-faced as the ball was forever kept just out of his reach.
Barca can buy as many Ozils and Khediras as they like but they will never have a midfield partnership like Xavi and Andres Iniesta. With all eyes on the strikers in a furious opening exchange it was the two little Catalans who kept their heads; Iniesta bisecting Real’s defence with a typically pinpoint pass, and Xavi calmly following the path of the deflected ball over his shoulder before nonchalantly lifting it past Casillas on nine minutes, to open a wound that was to be relentlessly lanced until Real Madrid eventually collapsed.
Xavi then resumed his more natural role of creator, finding David Villa with an angled, lofted pass to the inside-left channel. Spain’s leading scorer ghosted outside Sergio Ramos before finding Pedro, who gratefully slotted his cut-back in for 2-0 inside 20 minutes. Spain’s showcase fixture had been a very Spanish affair so far. With their work done Barca now dropped the intensity but cranked up the swagger, giving an exhibition of passing and movement and never really allowing Real Madrid a chance to impose themselves on the game for the rest of the first half.
Jose Mourinho acknowledged Barca’s dominance in possession by replacing Mesut Ozil with Lassana Diarra at half-time; before they could even think of attacking his team would first have to win the ball. Barcelona were unmoved and unaffected: Leo Messi slipped in David Villa who showed his class by beating the offside trap and then Casillas with equal precision on 55 minutes. With Madrid on the ropes Messi slotted another perfect pass through a crowd of white shirts to find Villa again, with the outcome inevitable: a devastating quick-fire double in just three minutes to finish Real off.
What could Mourinho do? Rarely had the Portuguese ever found himself in such a position of futility. For once it was he who had to sit and endure torment from a younger, more stylish manager in the opposing dugout. Now Pep Guardiola was the Special One. On the pitch Madrid were beginning to display the anger that boiled inside Mourinho as they realised the game was up, and that it was now about damage limitation. Eight Madrid players were booked and Ramos was sent off on 90 minutes. By that time Jeffren had added yet more insult to injury by converting a low cross from fellow substitute Bojan for 5-0.
So while Guardiola won his sixth consecutive Clasico, a humbled Mourinho, who always knew that his tenure at Real Madrid would only be judged on his ability to beat Barcelona, now realises the enormity of that task. If this match was important for Madrid’s chances of wrestling the La Liga crown from Barcelona, the return fixture at the Bernabeu on the 16th of April next year is monumental.
Both teams had scored an impressive 27 goals in their last seven league games before last night, but Barcelona proved able to continue this rate against Madrid to show them that however good they become under Mourinho, their Catalan enemies will always be one, or even five, steps ahead. Special might not cut it this time around.
“We were kicked off the park and should have had a definite penalty. I’d like to know what the fifth official was doing. Carlos Vela was clearly fouled. The five referees is not an answer to the problem. It is a useless system. The turning point was the penalty – I still cannot understand how Vela got a yellow card…”
I could have used one of hundreds of Arsene Wenger’s post-match rants here, this just happens to be the most recent. Wenger’s boys have once again been hard done by; the referee is to blame for a bad decision and for not protecting his players from physical tackles.
I agree with Wenger on the penalty decision last night. It was a clear penalty. The only thing to say in the referee’s defence was that Vela threw his arms in the air in that dramatic fashion we all know too well. Still, he was stopped by an outstretched leg that was nowhere near the ball and, dramatics or not, it should have been a penalty kick. Five referees missed it; Wenger has a right to feel aggrieved. Unfortunately for Wenger his team cannot receive special treatment. They will receive bad decisions from referees; they will receive rough treatment from teams who cannot match them for technique.
Turning points in confidence and momentum clearly exist in football and can have dramatic effects, especially at the highest level. However, the players at Wenger’s disposal were good enough to batter Braga 6-0 just over two months ago, so they should have been able to win the match with or without a penalty from the appeal that took place at 0-0 with 14 minutes remaining. Was the penalty decision to blame for Arsenal’s failure to score for the first 76 minutes?! Instead Arsenal conceded late on and lost the game for the second time in four days.
The problem in defence still exists. Wenger can throw another Squillaci or Koscielny at Arsenal’s back four in the January transfer window, but the foundations of the problem must be his team’s mentality. Unfortunately for him a manager who has been in charge of a club for 14 years has nobody but himself to blame. Teams reflect the attitude and mentality of their manager after that period of time, and if Wenger cannot accept responsibility, swallow his pride and make the necessary moves to prevent such problems from happening again, but instead persists in attempting to protect his side by looking for others to blame, then he and Arsenal will never learn from their mistakes.
A constantly evolving young side is great to watch, and to admire when gambles on youth pay off. One downside of this can be that players are let go too early to the detriment of the team. Wenger let William Gallas leave in the summer, the very defender who was man-of-the-match and captain of Spurs as they beat Arsenal in their own back yard on Saturday. Gilberto Silva laughed in Wenger’s face by continuing to captain Brazil and run their midfield for years after he was deemed too old for the Arsenal youth club. Surely not even Wenger can defend himself or blame anyone else for these two glaring misjudgements. Often the presence of older players can be useful for the youngsters to learn from, and their experience is invaluable in situations like, say, a North London derby or an away game in the Champions League.
As usual with an Arsenal blog, I’m sure this will receive widespread criticism from Arsenal fans. The amount of excellent and popular Arsenal blogs out there show that you guys are a literary bunch who love to debate and defend your team online.
However, Gunners, just consider this: do you want to be a side of nearly men who always have an excuse when their side inevitably falls at the final hurdle with a manager who will always look to blame anyone before himself, or do you want to start winning the trophies that a club of your stature deserve?
The truth hurts, but maybe it’s time that you, as well as Wenger, faced up to it. If creaming yourself when your teenagers dismantle a lesser side in the Carling Cup is enough for you then fine, otherwise Wenger has to go.
If Manchester City have any kind of serious ambition, they need to show it in their on-field tactics rather than their marketing campaigns. City played three holding midfielders last night, and although Yaya Toure was played higher up the pitch he’s not the sort of player to provide a spark capable of creating goals through top defenders, even if City thought so when they handed him an annual wage larger than the GDP of most developing countries. City could hardly have wished for a better time to play United, who of course had injuries and players recovering from a virus, but Roberto Mancini showed at best caution, and more likely nerves.
Is there any situation in which he would be daring enough to play a two-striker system? Carlos Tevez and Emmanuel Adebayor could be an effective combination because of their different attributes. I’m not saying he has to play an English ‘big man, little man’ tactic of playing long balls for the Togolese to nod down, because that could be seen as dated and is not the traditional Italian way (although Don Fabio likes a big man), but City at present merely rely on Tevez, a player who could not win a regular first-team place at United, to supply the magic and goals to surpass their Manchester rivals on the pitch and in the league. This is reflected in the stat that City have not won without Tevez in the league for two years.
Early on in the season, I wrote that I couldn’t see where City’s creativity was going to come from. They proved me wrong to an extent in that James Milner started to play in the middle and showed that he has the football brain to create. I also said that I doubted David Silva’s ability to deal with the physical nature of English football, but he showed that his touch and passing are so accurate that he can avoid the 50/50 situation less technically gifted players may find themselves in more often. Why did Mancini not play either of these two at the head of a midfield three rather than putting three bruisers in there? Surely two is enough.
Beebop and Rocksteady are fine, but every midfield needs a Krang.
Germany’s confidence and willingness to attack played into Spanish hands as Vicente Del Bosque’s team relished facing a positive side for the first time in the competition. Instead of tasting revenge Joachim Low’s side were devoured without mercy.
Until last night Spain had only faced sides whose mission was to stop them playing, before considering trying to win the game themselves. Last night, however, it was Spain who changed to a 4-2-3-1 system to mirror Germany. This may have looked like a sign of weakness, but that was not how it translated on the pitch.
Germany’s defence played higher up than Switzerland, Paraguay et al as they sought goals and retribution for the European Championship defeat two years ago, leaving space for Spain to probe. Sure enough Andres Iniesta, the man identified in yesterday’s piece as Spain’s main threat with the ball at his feet, isolated the poor, defenceless Philipp Lahm and got to the byline on more than one occasion.
Germany’s counter attacking pace had seen off Argentina’s defective full-backs with ease, but Joan Capdevila and Sergio Ramos’ energy on the flanks meant that Lucas Podolski and Piotr Trochowski were denied space, leaving Miroslav Klose short of supply. Without the service to continue his composed finishing streak Klose suddenly looked sluggish and immobile, a key reason why he played second fiddle to Evica Olic at Bayern Munich last season.
Then there was the midfield. The tenacity of Bastian Schweinsteiger and Sami Kadira had been able to break down the rushed passing of England’s ‘star’ midfielders but here they faced a glut of players oozing class and composure on the ball. Passes into space, triangles, round-the-corner, you name it. Germany also found a fired-up Xabi Alonso snapping into the challenge to compliment the more reserved style of Xavi and Sergio Busquests, showing his Premier League experience but sometimes being penalised unfairly for doing so.
Germany tried to make a game of it, but Spain simply did not let them do so, keeping the ball in deep positions in the first half. They tightened the screw after the break, almost setting up camp in German territory and showing a more direct manner. This game was decided by a set piece of course, but you feel that had Carles Puyol not powered his header home Spain would have found another way through at some point.
As one-sided a 1-0 victory as you may see for a good while, Spain looked composed in the later stages despite the knowledge that one attack was all it would take for Germany to achieve parity. Their confidence comes from the knowledge that they possess technically the best midfield in the competition, capable of holding the ball between them without being affected by the knowledge that they were on the brink of a first World Cup final.
Germany were brave and continued to try to play the attacking game that had previously brought them so many goals and so much success. But if you give Spain space, they will pass you to pieces. Last night Germany were like helpless, bite-sized Tapas; merely an entrada as Spain saved themselves for the main course: the World Cup final in Johannesburg on Sunday.
If, as expected, Fernando Torres is finally dropped tonight, Spain will be forced to crowd the midfield and fit a lot of talented central midfielders into a system that prevents them tripping over each others’ toes. There have many smooth, round pegs, but some must quickly adapt to square holes if Spain are to overcome Germany’s balanced side.
While Xabi Alonso and Sergio Busquets have sat deep in a 4-4-2 it has forced Xavi, their best passer of a ball, to play further up the pitch (out of place) in a position that requires the pace and width he doesn’t offer. When they have switched to a 4-3-3 with Xavi moving into central midfield, David Villa has played on the left leaving the out-of-sorts Fernando Torres as the (so far rather blunt) point of attack. If Cesc Fabregas is the man to come in, after impressing in his cameo against Paraguay, where does he fit?
Another problem is that of Spain’s starting midfield four so far only Andres Iniesta has the necessary attributes to beat a man. Busquets, Xavi and Alonso are excellent passers of the ball but they lack the pace or dribbling skills get in behind defences, as shown by the fact that Switzerland managed to squeeze them out in their opening fixture despite being without the ball for long periods.
Germany, meanwhile, have a player for each position of their finely oiled 4-2-3-1 system. Sami Khedira sits, Bastian Schweinsteiger is, well, everywhere at once it seems, while Mesut Ozil has the creativity to play behind the front three, the ability to beat a man and a sharp eye for goal, as demonstrated with a great strike against Ghana. Lucas Podolski offers genuine width on the left, Miroslav Klose is happy to sit on the last man and usually they have Thomas Muller’s energy down the right.
But Muller isn’t playing, and herein lies Germany’s weakness in tonight’s game: an unfamiliar face in a settled starting eleven. It is here where Joachim Low will earn his corn. The choices? Another gamble on the youth policy that has worked so well so far and the selection of the talented but inexperienced young Bayern Munich midfielder Toni Kroos, or the more experienced Piotr Trochowski, who is the more natural winger.
I personally would pick Kroos. He has already been earmarked for the number 10 shirt at Bayern Munich and is held in higher regard than Muller by many within the club. Despite his 20 years he has already made an impact at Munich and on loan at Leverkusen. During his debut for Munich, coming off the bench for the last 18 minutes, he provided two assists. On his UEFA cup debut he came on for nine minutes, made one and scored with the last kick of the game. Oh, and those three assists were all for a certain Mr Klose.
Put simply both teams needs to make changes for tonight’s game, and these decisions may well determine who plays the Netherlands in Johannesburg on Sunday. Germany’s change is forced because of Muller’s two yellow cards, whereas Torres’ form means Vicente del Bosque’s hand is forced for a different reason. If Spain can find a balance, they have the players to beat Germany, whose equilibrium depends on how well their new right winger adapts.
The behaviour and subsequent delight of Luis Suarez in the match against Ghana was shambolic and set a terrible precedent to youngsters watching the World Cup. He should be ashamed of the fact that his intentional handball is the reason that Ghana were knocked out of the tournament. Instead he is unrepentant and has gleefully claimed his act is the new ‘Hand of God’.
Thierry Henry’s behaviour in the World Cup qualifying play-off against the Republic of Ireland was a similarly instinctive piece of gamesmanship, but at least Henry had the dignity to apologise. He realised that his behaviour was wrong, whereas Suarez seems to think he is a national hero.
Suarez’s tears as he walked off the pitch were not borne from shame, as his celebrations when Asamoah Gyan missed his penalty with the last kick of extra-time revealed. The rules should now be changed to prevent children all across the world from imitating his behaviour and/or thinking it is ok to do so in the future.
At present, Suarez’s behaviour is not technically cheating. It is a straight red card and a penalty offence. Fortunately this kind of incident is rare as most people’s instinct is to try and defend a shot with any part of their body but the arm, but it may not be after this World Cup.
People may see the light punishment handed out by FIFA, who declined to extend Suarez’s one-match ban, weigh this negative against the positive, which is that Uruguay ultimately went though to the semi-final of the World Cup, and think that may be a worthwhile exchange.
The only alternative punishment for a blatant handball rather than a penalty would be to award a goal. For this to happen the referee would have to be absolutely sure that a. the act was undisputedly intentional, b. that there is no way anyone else, including the goalkeeper, could have stopped the ball entering the goal had the handball not taken place and c. that the ball was definitely goal-bound in the first place.
In the heat of the moment, with the limited perspective of one referee and an often crowded penalty area, the three requirements alone would be too much for the judgement of one man. Therefore my suggestion is this: for the rules to be changed along with the introduction of technology.
The referee is by definition susceptible to human error and while technology cannot be used at all levels of the game it should be used when as much is at stake as it was in this incident. After Lampard’s goal that never was and Tevez’s goal that shouldn’t have been this is the third different major mistake that could and should have been easily resolved with a simple video replay.
It is almost as if the first World Cup in Africa is telling us that it is time for the game itself to move on as well. Listen up Mr Blatter.
It could be argued that Carlos Queiroz’s negative tactics ruined the biggest two matches of Cristiano Ronaldo’s career so far.
“Ask Queiroz”, said Ronaldo in a post-match interview when asked of Portugal’s tactics, literally spitting with rage after Portugal’s 1-0 loss to Spain on Tuesday. This echoed his reaction after the 2009 Champions League final when his repost to a similar question was “Ask Ferguson”, but maybe it was Carlos Queiroz who was again to blame.
Although Queiroz had left old Trafford after his second stint as Alex Ferguson’s assistant by the time Manchester United faced Barcelona in Rome, his legacy lived on in a cautious 4-5-1 formation. There is no doubt Queiroz’s defensive coaching helped to firm up the back line which played a large part in United’s Champions League victory in 2008, but there is a time, namely when chasing a must-win game, that caution must eventually be thrown to the wind to some extent.
It was demonstrated again on Tuesday that if when you go a goal down you don’t attack a side capable of keeping the ball, they will do just that. United beat Barcelona 1-0 over two legs thanks to superb defending in the semi-final in 2008, but they were never chasing the game. When Barca scored once, then twice in Rome a United side indoctrinated by Queiroz’s masterful defensive tactics didn’t change the formation and attack Barca just as Portugal didn’t attack Spain.
The man who suffered the most on both occasions, isolated up front on his own, was Ronaldo. The man who has changed countless games for club and country was not given the support he needed to get a sufficient amount of the ball to do so again, neither was he dropped into a deeper position from which he could exert a greater influence. It is easy to dislike the ‘winker’ with a penchant for short shorts, but on this occasion it is justifiable to feel a slight pang of sympathy.
In Rome it seemed like Ferguson, a man known for his cavalier tendencies, seemed as shackled as his players, nervous to abandon the Queiroz-influenced tactics that had got him so far, just as Queiroz himself only got Portugal so far in the World Cup. Ferguson suffered much post-match criticism for not reverted to the tried and tested attacking 4-4-2 that has brought him such success during his illustrious career.
I’m not claiming to be Garry Kasparov, and I have already covered this subject extensively in my Otto Rehhegal blog (check the archive), but when you line up defensively but are losing, and losing fairly (by two then three goals in United’s case), surely there is no harm in trying a more positive tactic.
Queiroz is obviously a master of the defensive game, as demonstrated by Portugal’s three clean sheets in the group stages, but his attacking tactics seem to lag some way behind, despite his side’s 7-0 victory over a pub side called ‘North Korea’. For this reason he makes a great assistant but as a manager against the best teams, such as Spain or Barcelona, his tactics only serve to stem the inevitable tide, much to the chagrin of Cristiano Ronaldo.
A surprise inclusion, but included because of his dirty tricks: pulling shirts, trying to punch Drogba’s broken arm and the rest. Strong as a brick shithouse in the tackle, but when the roles are reversed he collapses like a shit brickhouse in a manner that would make Rivaldo blush.
9. Cristiano Ronaldo
You almost felt sorry for Ronaldo as he was starved of possession during the second half against Spain. Almost. However, Portugal progressed from the group stages despite Ronaldo, who scored just one fluky goal against a demoralised North Korea. Lacked his usual flair and end product.
8. Aaron Lennon
Much was expected of the pacy winger who impressed in qualifying. However the World Cup stage exposed the empty space in which his football brain is supposed to be. His erratic passing and crossing confused him as much as his team-mates and he was dropped after just one game.
7. Franck Ribery
Had an excellent season at Munich but was abject in South Africa. In his defence France were collectively awful, but if anyone could have provided a spark to reignite their tournament it was Ribery. A tournament to forget for the man Zidane once called the “jewel of French football”.
6. Claudio Marchisio
The ‘playmaker’ in Italy’s dysfunctional 4-3-3, Marchisio was largely anonymous in all three of their appalling displays. Admittedly he lacks international experience, but Italy only played well when he was subbed against Paraguay. Why he was reinstated is a mystery to everyone but Marcello Lippi.
5. Alberto Gilardino
Scored a goal every other game for Fiorentina last season - 34 in 68 - but it was the disappointing Gilardino of his Milan days that stepped off the plane in South Africa. Has all the attributes to be a great target man but again disappointed for Italy when it mattered after a poor Euro 2008.
4. Fernando Torres
Perhaps a little harsh as he is still recovering from injury, but he has looked a shadow of his former self so far as Villa hogs the spotlight. Withdrawn after another anonymous display last night, the player who won Euro 2008 for Spain will be lucky if he starts the quarter-final against Paraguay.
3. Wayne Rooney
After his best season to date at United Rooney arrived at the World Cup with the expectations of a nation on his shoulders, and it showed. The Rooney we know simply didn’t turn up. His control, passing and positioning were all way off. Only came close to scoring once in four games.
2. Sani Kaita
His inexplicable attack on Vasilas Torosidis is perhaps the most needless red card in the history of the World Cup. With Nigeria leading 1-0 the pair chased a ball off the pitch and Kaita unnecessarily kicked out at the Greek, who of course fell dramatically to the deck. Greece went on to win 2-1.
1. Robert Green
Oh dear Robert. He fought so hard for his place only to make a mistake so bad it would make a junior school goalkeeper wince; a comical error that will blight the rest of his career and probably his life. England may still be in South Africa if they had beaten the USA and won Group C.
Yesterday Brazil played like two teams fused together; a physical, European-style rearguard of six formed a solid base from which their samba stars took Chile apart. Crucially (England, France and Italy take note), every man knew his role in a clearly defined system of play.
With England’s loose 4-4-2 and the hastily assembled 4-3-3 formations of Il Azzurri and Les Bleus, the players looked like they knew their starting shape but became amorphous as play became stretched. England in particular seemed to have no set style of play, although I’m sure this was not for lack of trying on behalf of Fabio Capello.
Despite the result yesterday Chile looked settled in a complex 3-3-1-3 system. Can you imagine the carnage if England were asked to play in this manner?! South American teams play 18 games in qualifying as opposed to 10 in Europe and this additional exposure to team-mates and tactics seems to be paying dividends in South Africa. Most people expected Brazil and Argentina to walk through the group stages but did they expect all three of Chile, Uruguay and Paraguay to progress?
Many of Brazil’s players made multiple transatlantic trips representing club and country during the qualifying campaign. As a result their play seems to be stuck half-way between Europe and South America. In footballing terms this is no bad place to be. Lucio and Maicon, for instance, will no doubt have been helped by the strict tactical discipline of Jose Mourinho, who will have taught them when and how to use their obvious flair when in possession, and how to press opponents whilst keeping the shape when without; raw talent refined by a cultured approach.
In attacking terms Brazil have the advantage of an abundance of technique and creativity, but they are also told to play in a certain way to make the most out it: Short, accurate passes on the deck combined with intelligent movement off the ball. The European teams mentioned above, now a mere footnote in the story of the 2010 World Cup, didn’t seem to have a defined style of play; they were neither patient nor exclusively direct. Unfortunately the ‘mix it up’ philosophy just doesn’t cut it in the knock-out stages of the World Cup.
Spain also play to their technical prowess, and are joint favourites with Brazil for good reason. In my opinion, however, Brazil will win it for three reasons. Firstly Fernando Torres is clearly not at his peak in a physical or a mental sense. David Villa is perhaps the best striker in the world at the moment but he needs Torres to come to life if Spain are to beat Brazil.
Secondly, Brazil as a team and as a nation ooze confidence and feel they have a right to win their sixth World Cup. Would Spanish fans, who have never tasted such a victory, feel comfortable taking massive World Cup replica trophies into tonight’s game with Portugal? Germany showed what confidence can do against a team who lack it, and Spain will feel pressure from a tense nation just as England did. I’m not saying Spain lack confidence, merely that Brazil have more of it.
The third reason is that bond of European brawn and South American beauty. Spain have a physical back-line but their ‘defensive’ midfielders are more creators than destroyers whereas Brazil’s are happy to sit. Italy won the World Cup because of their defence in 2006, and although I never thought it would be this way, I think Brazil will win it in 2010 for the same reason.
However many different Englishmen pull on the three lions at major competitions it seems they will always be united by one thing: a fear of failure. The nation may be stuck in a vicious circle. The more we talk of our players’ inability to recreate their club form on the international stage, the more they believe it themselves.
The match commentators yesterday suggested that England would take only one of the German eleven in exchange for one of our own players. While I personally think it would be closer to six (Neuer, Lahm, Ozil, Klose, Schweinsteiger, Podolski), the fact remains that England have players who would walk into the German side. Frank Lampard, for instance, has outplayed Michael Ballack ever since Germany’s inspirational captain arrived at Stamford Bridge. Klose doesn’t even start for his club. Pulling on the England shirt, however, instantly puts doubt in the mind of even the most seasoned professional.
What is worse is that the opposition know it. It is obvious. Germany smelt blood from the men in red; they were relieved by England’s mental self-oppression. People talk of experience being the key in big games, but it was England’s more experienced players whose mindset was stifled, rather than liberated by past exploits yesterday. The expectations were high and they knew it. Meanwhile the 20-year-old Thomas Müller played without fear and finished with two goals and an assist.
Many critics blame unrealistic expectations in the English media. The Metro this morning, for instance, talked of the end of a ‘golden generation’. It is hard to rationalise the root of this phrase as this group of England players have not once beat decent opposition in the knockout phase of a major tournament.
Most of these losses have come down to penalties; essentially a mind game. Does anyone really believe that if England had taken Germany to spot-kicks that the outcome would have been any different to the one we are so used to: waiting to see which unlucky soul will have but a Pizza Hut advertising contract as consolation for his failure for the rest of his life?
Of course not. Because like the match yesterday, the game would be up even before it had begun. In the past we have let the heart rule the head when choosing penalty takers such is the doubt coursing through the veins of many players who are more than capable of scoring from 12 yards. A brief list of players who have missed penalties for us in major tournaments in the last 14 years: Jamie Carragher, Gareth Southgate, Paul Ince, David Batty. Men with the heart to take a penalty, but not the head, nor the feet for that matter.
For this reason I do not expect to see England lift a World Cup for as long as I live. Pessimistic? Admittedly. An overreaction? Maybe, but unfortunately this scathing conclusion is borne more from cold Müller-esque reason than it is from the self-doubt and resulting hot-headed panic seen in the eyes of the England team yesterday.
United's soul is never sold So proudly wear that green and gold We'll never wear our famous Red 'Til Glazer's gone or even dead So raise that ancient standard high By green and gold we'll live or die That day will come again for sure When we can wear our Red once more
