Thank You Scholesy!

It had to happen someday, but Paul Scholes’s retirement – announced yesterday – has stricken me beyond imagination. Sport has been my getaway for as long as I can remember, and no sportsperson has provided me as much joy as Scholes has. It is the end of an epoch, not merely from a sporting sense, but from a personal standpoint, too.

Strikingly, the tributes to Scholes with which the Internet is awash are all juxtaposed with comments from footballers, current and past, ranging from Xavi to Zidane, and Guardiola to Lippi, as though Scholes’s ability does not speak for itself. The high regard that Scholes was held in by the footballing fraternity marks a good starting point, but it fails to convey the pure joy of watching him play. Indeed, he was a great player, but that is only given when one considers the sheer numbers: ten league titles, three FA Cups, two Champions League titles – 1999 can by no means be excluded – in a career spanning seventeen years, is quite remarkable by any account. That he played 675 times for Manchester United in its most successful era is enough vindication of his greatness and the numbers will see through it that his name remains firmly etched in the sands of time.

But what the statistics will never transport is the pristine joy that one – or at least I – obtained from watching him play. His understanding of time and space was peerless. Today, we marvel at Barcelona’s mastery over possession, but Scholes was the old master at retaining the ball. He played the sport like a game of chess. Always a few moves ahead of the opponents, he was acutely aware of what was around him. If you had observed his play closely, you would have seen him scanning the entire compass and moving to free spaces before receiving the ball with a touch as immaculate as a newborn’s caring mother. And once in possession, his passing range – second to none – would assume control. He could keep it both neat and tidy, pinging one-twos with those close to him, play raking diagonal balls to either wing with the accuracy of an ace marksman, or rip apart the heart of the opposition’s defence with eye-of-the-needle precision.

Everything Scholes did on a football pitch – sans, perhaps, his tackling – was done with shimmering joie de vivre. Even in the most trying of circumstances, he made the game look like what it was – a game. Football, Bill Shankly famous said was not a matter of life and death, but more than that. The truism of the statement, bathed in irony, has been debated with extensive monotony. Indeed, when Scholes got on to a football pitch, his commitment suggested he himself viewed the game thus, but in reality it was but a job for him, albeit one that he took immense pleasure in. It was about those ninety minutes on the pitch and nothing else. But within the dimensions of the playing area, the skill, the intelligence and the nous that the displayed were unequalled in their generation of thrill and delight.

In his early days, Scholes belonged to one of those ever-so-rare breeds of footballers – a box-to-box goalscoring, playmaking midfielder. In spite of being asthmatic, he showcased plenteous energy, rushing up and down the midfield with both vitality and intelligence. He had the gift of timing, and he would arrive late into the box unnoticed and finish more often than not with power and precision. For a small man – Scholes is only 170 metres tall – he was excellent in the air, netting scores of goals with his head including the famous stoppage-time winner in the Manchester Derby last year. This he achieved through a combination of timing and technique. His ability to arrive in dangerous areas at the most opportune of occasions meant that he found himself with more chances to head on goal than most players his size. But, once presented with an opportunity, there were few better than him at finding the goal.

Perhaps, the feature of his game that Scholes will most fondly be remembered for is his long-range shooting, which in his pomp he displayed with remarkable regularity. Again, there have been numerous finishes of astounding power and accuracy, including a rasping volley at Villa-Park, the famous goal against Barcelona in the 2008 Champions League semi-final, a top-corner effort of astounding magnificence against Middleborough, to name a few amongst a multitude. But the one that stands out is a volley straight off a David Beckham corner against Bradford City at the Valley Parade ground. One moment, Scholes was sauntering near the edge of the box, scratching his head, and next moment, he unleashed a ferocious volley that ripped through a stream of City players and into the back of the net. It was an exhibition of rare ingenuity and even rarer technique.

It is difficult to look back upon my time watching Scholes play to pick particular moments of brilliance, for he really has been bounteous in that regard. There was a Champions League goal against Panathinaikos when Scholes completed a thirty-five-pass move with a chip over the goalkeeper that was as imperious as it was impudent. There was the ‘assist’, to use the modern-day terminology, to Wayne Rooney against AC Milan, which simply reeked of class – matchless vision combined with wonderful execution. But singular moments do not an ounce of justice to Scholes’s mastery over the game. I could watch whole games not taking my eyes off him, only to see his command over the football pitch and his ability to keep the ball moving with marvellous simplicity and grace.

In recent years, Scholes had transformed himself into a deep lying midfielder, an Italian style regista – he hadn’t the energy to pace up and down the pitch. But his footballing nous and his appreciation of space saw him excel in a position that was new to him. Technically so proficient, he was able to dictate the pace and tempo of games with wonderful efficiency. But a decline in speed, even if his footballing brain has remained as shrewd as ever, meant that the retirement was not unexpected. And also on expected lines was the manner of the announcement – Scholes, a player utterly devoid of modern-day football’s celebrity trappings was already on holiday when the declaration was made via a press release.

They don’t make them like him anymore and indeed they haven’t for a while now. From a personal standpoint, this brings to an end many years of watching him play and marvelling at his supreme technique, which rarely failed to inspire awe. As they say all good things do come to an end, and sadly I will be left only to reminisce at what was a golden era – one, which belonged to the great Paul Scholes.

(Also posted at: http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/thank-you-scholesy)

FC Barcelona - A Work of High Art

If there was any doubt preceding the game about the stature of this Barcelona team, it was put to rest in magisterial fashion. Manchester United were cut to ribbons in the final of the UEFA Champions League with a display of audacious class and merciless efficiency. Barcelona were simply irrepressible. A more beautiful victory one is unlikely to see. Perhaps they were aided by United’s timidity, an unwillingness to play dirty, an attribute that some may even consider commendable, but Barcelona’s display has taken them well into the pantheon of great footballing sides.

Let us, though, forget the scoreline – a commanding 3-1 – and concentrate for a moment on the methods, for it is the style of victory more than the score which is likely to define this epoch. At the core of Barcelona’s triumph, paradoxically, isn’t Lionel Messi, widely and rightly considered the best player in the world, but Xavi Hernandez their pint sized midfield maestro. Xavi is Barcelona’s ‘quarterback’, every attack flows through him and it is he who helps them command space with an air of hitherto unseen imperiousness. He passes the ball, both short and long, both in acute angles and in straight lines, both along the ground and in the air, with equal simplicity but never it seems without purpose. The purpose, if one were to define it, is a quest for space, a pursuit ingrained in the club’s philosophy by Johan Cruyff.

The blueprint for Barcelona’s play lies in the methods adopted by the great Ajax and the Netherlands sides of the late 1960s to early 1970s, in which Cruyff played the chief protagonist. Under the stewardship of Rinus Michels, football was revolutionalised. No doubt, it has unconsciously always been about space, but as artist Jeroen Henneman says in David Winner’s outstanding book, ‘The Brilliant Orange: The Neurotic Genius of Dutch Football’, “the big change in Dutch football happened when these ideas became words, when Cruyff and Michels started talking about space.”

Winner seeks to conceptualise this understanding of space. He draws parallels between Dutch architecture, art and football. He says: “’Total football’ was, among other things, a conceptual revolution based on the idea that the size of any football field was flexible and could be altered by a team playing on it. In possession, Ajax – and later the Dutch national team – aimed to make the pitch as large as possible, spreading play to the wings and seeing every run and movement as a way to increase and exploit the available space. ”

In many ways, Winner argues, this expansion of space is akin to the wonder that marks Dutch architecture. He says: “Because of their strange landscape, the Dutch are a nation of spatial neurotics… Space is an inordinately precious commodity, and for centuries the use of every square centimeter of every Dutch city, field and polder has been carefully considered and argued over.” This paucity, Winner says has contributed towards the Dutch thinking innovatively about space, a constant urge to find it where seemingly none exists, a philosophy that has been carried over to the football pitch.

Of course it is easy to argue that these are but tenuous links, utterly lacking in credence. But as Rudi Fuchs, a director of a modern art museum in Amsterdam argues in Winner’s book, ‘every country and culture has its own way of seeing.’ He says: “The psychologists deny these differences exist, but its there in Dutch art and culture. Ask any Dutch person to draw the horizon and they will draw a straight line. If you ask someone form Yorkshire or Tuscany or anywhere else, it will have bumps and hills. A Scandinavian blue is cold and steely, completely unlike a blue in Italy. Italian painting is rich in warm reds, but when red appears in the work of a northern artist like Munch, its blood in the snow.” He goes on to add that these ‘climatic and geographically shaped aesthetic differences are inevitably reflected in football.’ “Catenaccio is like a Titan painting – soft, seductive and languid. The Italians welcome and lull you and seduce you into their soft embrace, and score a goal like the thrust of a dagger. The Dutch make their geometric patterns… The English like to run and fight. When Gullit tried to transplant this Dutch art to Newcastle, he was trying to do something impossible. He was bound to fail.”

Pertinently, it may be noted that, Fuchs fails to mention Spain or in fact Catalunya. But it is there that Cruyff’s notion of space has found its most glorious recognition. Cruyff took Dutch art to Barcelona, and the club has augmented this conception through its own varying approaches to the creation of space.

(Also posted at: http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/fc-barcelona-a-work-of-high-art)

First, a look at the tactical basis that underpins the method. At Ajax and with the Netherlands, Michels and his successors adopted a fluid, flexible 4-3-3 with a centre-back pushing forward whenever possible to make it a 3-4-3. Essentially, though, these positional notations were only that – notations. In practice, the system involved rapid interchange of positions, wingers finding themselves in central defense, central midfielders moving into full back, and so on. For all its attacking vitality, it is important to note that defensive solidity was never compromised, if the left back was caught up field, one of the central midfielders was always on hand to cover the space. The inherent philosophy, as Jonathan Wilson points out in this piece for the Guardian, was simple – ‘pass and move when in possession, squeeze the play when out of it.’

In many ways, the Ajax philosophy served as the template for Arrigo Sacchi’s AC Milan side and the more recent Arsenal team under Arsene Wenger. The idea, though, has stayed at the forefront of Barcelona’s thinking ever since Michels moved to the club as coach in 1971, with Cruyff joining him two years later. Their axis hadn’t the success that it had at Ajax, but nonetheless the processes were put in place. During Cruyff’s six-year tenure as a player, the club won only a single La Liga title. Its ethos though was altered. Success alone wasn’t what the club craved for, but success through a certain style.

Between Cruyff’s time as a player and when he re-joined the club as manager in 1988, it won the Championship only once, in 1984-85 under Terry Venables. But once Cruyff took over the reins, the contours of the club were dramatically altered, laying the basis for its greatness, which has been achieved with rare panache. The club won four consecutive La Ligas between 1990-91 and 1993-94, playing a seductive, fearsome brand of football that emphasized a mastery over space. At its pivot was Josep Guardiola, the current Barcelona manager. He was the Xavi of the ‘Dream Team’, the one who took control of the ball in the middle of the park, acting as the conductor of the orchestra. The expansive style of the Dream Team, though, whilst magnificent to watch, had its drawbacks. Relevantly, it won the Champions League only once, in 1991-92, losing 4-0 in the final two years later to Fabio Capello’s AC Milan. The team containing Guardiola, Romario, Stoichkov and Koeman was undone by a disciplined Milan effort that was aimed at targeting specific weaknesses of Barcelona – particularly spaces behind their fullbacks, which were ruthlessly exposed by Dejan Savicevic.

Cruyff’s contributions to Barcelona though do not end there. In 1979, he played a pivotal role in convincing the then President of the club, Josep Nunez, in remodeling La Masia, the club’s academy to accommodate a greater number of students, and centering its methods on the famed Ajax academy. Instilled in the youngsters at La Masia are the philosophies of Cruyff. Apprentices are taught to think innovatively, to think in terms of space. They are trained to press and compress space when defending and expand the playing area when in attack. Amongst its foremost and earliest graduates was Guardiola himself and Guillermo Amor, both of whom played fundamental roles in the Dream Team’s success.

Since then, the academy has produced a battery of stars, all entrenched in the Barcelona way, including Carles Puyol, Xavi, Andres Iniesta, Lionel Messi, Gerard Pique, Pedro Rodriguez and Victor Valdes. The success of the first team for a period was steady, without being spectacular. In 2005-06, the club won the Champions League for the second time in its history, under the management of Frank Riijkard – more indications of a Dutch touch. But while Xavi and Puyol played important roles, the win was essentially achieved through the attacking flair of Ronaldinho, a Brazilian bought from Paris St. German. Much of its football was eye-catching, but the manner of the victory was rarely imperious. Defensively, the team had many frailties, and its methods were far from the flawlessness that is now on show. Following a second consecutive season without league triumph in 2007-08, Riijkard was shown the door, and Guardiola, who was then the head coach of the “B’ team, took over.

And since then there football has attained otherworldliness. They have won the Spanish league title in each of the last three years and the Champions League twice, all the while adhering to the high ideals of Cryuff. Opponents have been forced into submission through a graceful, enthralling style of football. But Guardiola has not merely aped Cruyff in his methods. The basic paradigm, no doubt, remains the same, but the nature of the pressing game that today’s Barcelona play is more complete. It hasn’t the totality of the Ajax sides of the 1970s – indeed it is implausible for a team to play on such lines in today’s tactical regime – but it involves pressing from the top in a manner, perhaps, never witnessed in the past.

Without the ball, as Guadiola often points out, ‘Barcelona are a disastrous team’. So they hound like a pack of chasing wolves from the front, compressing space the moment they lose the ball. Messi, Villa and Pedro are renowned for their attacking prowess, but they play just as crucial a role defensively. They pursue the opposition in every corner of the pitch – even simple passes rolled out from the opposition’s goalkeeper to one of his defenders is not spared. For Barcelona, possession is the foundation for both attack and defence. Once they win the ball back, though, they retain it with élan for what seems like ages. In the Champions League this season, they have kept possession of the ball on an average of about 70% of the time every game, an astonishingly brilliant figure.

There is of course a criticism that at times their passing can be tedious, an end in itself, which often strips an element of fun out of their game. This, though, is a matter of aesthetics. Perhaps their style isn’t as thrillingly gorgeous as the Ajax and the Netherlands teams of the early 1970s, but as Simon Barnes once remarked of complaints against Pete Sampras being too boring, if you find excellence tedious, then sport is not what you should look towards.

Guardiola has ensured that the Cruyff philosophy remains the basis for Barcelona’s play, but by getting his team to relentlessly press the opposition in all areas of the pitch, he has augmented the model even further. As Sir Alex Ferguson said: "Guardiola has created a different philosophy for Barcelona. I think the Cruyff era laid the foundation for the width they used in their game and using the full size of the pitch. If you look at their midfield players over the last 20 years, they have all been small. What has changed is the pressing and the areas in which they press the ball. That is what Guardiola has brought to the team.

The beauty in Barcelona’s play, ironically for a team that plays with such elegance, lies in their discipline, exemplified best by Xavi. He presses the opposition hard, and when he is given the ball, he almost never loses it – evident from the fact that he converted 124 out of the 136 passes he attempted in the Final, more than the entire Manchester United midfield put together. The laboured accusation that Xavi only passes the ball sideways and a lack of directness means that it is easy to boast of such statistics falls like a leaf at the peak of autumn.

A glimpse at the opening goal scored by Pedro in the Final is enough to convince one of Xavi’s supreme talents. It was an education in practical passing. He sauntered near the edge of the United box, waiting for players to flit around in front of him, until the perfect opportunity presented itself. And when Pedro darted outwards, even as the drifting Messi took Evra inwards with him, Xavi played the ball diagonally to Pedro, with the weight on the pass and its direction immaculate. As Cruyff says, the simple ball is what is very often the most elegant solution. Arriving at that simple ball, though, takes genius and Xavi belongs to a rare species that possesses that special gift.

It is a testament also to Guardiola’s talents that he has ensured that his team’s standards never dip. They of course possess the sheer unexplainable brilliance of Messi, who can win games on his own. But it is as a collective unit that they are most impressive. Guardiola has constructed a work of art that is no doubt based on conceptions of space theorized by Cruyff, but by imparting his own contributions in terms of pressing and an ability to defend in numbers, he has made an imprint that transcends all boundaries of greatness. For instance, in Dani Alves, Barcelona have a marauding right back, who is crucial to their attacking plans. But when Alves attacks, Sergio Busquets unfailingly sits deep to cover for the space that can open up behind the fullback. This is but an example to display their adherence to all aspects of the game. Every player in the side is attuned to the team’s methods – pass and move and look for space.

Perhaps, Guardiola’s work in moulding a team of such mesmeric brilliance is like that of Antoni Guadi, the great Catalan architect, who adhered to tradition even while creating the most modern of structures. Guardiola may not go on to create an impregnable empire, but his side has already done enough to go down in the annals of history as one of the greatest of all time.

The Best and the Worst of 2010-11

The Guardian’s football writers as they do at the end of every season have picked their best and worst from the 2010-11 Premier League season. Here are my selections in the same categories:

Best goal Littered in Dimitar Berbatov’s league topping tally of goals were some of the most awe-inspiring finishes, of which none was finer than the second of his three goals against Liverpool in Manchester United’s 3-2 victory at Old Trafford. Perhaps, Wayne Rooney’s winner in the Manchester Derby was a cleaner strike, a more technically perfect volley, if you will, but Berbatov’s finish reeked of unadulterated class. His entire movement, first to lift the ball up for the volley and then the strike in itself, was so languid yet majestically elegant that time seemed to stand still – a goal for the ages.

Best match The 4-4 draw between Newcastle United and Arsenal is a popular choice, and rightly so. To come back from 4-0 down against a club competing for the title is no joke, but in many ways it’s been a joke of a season for Arsenal. Their defensive frailties were in abundant evidence on that February afternoon, and when Cheik Tiote produced a splendid, rasping volley to equalise, the stadium erupted like only St. James’ Park can.

Best player Again, a well-liked choice, but Luka Modric has been an absolute joy to behold. The little Croatian’s touch, vision and passing have been extraordinarily crucial to Tottenham’s run this season. Modric’s light frame induced questions of his suitability to the hurly burly of the English game. But over the last two seasons, he has not only proven his capacity to adapt to the league, but has shown himself to be adept at playing in a two-man central midfield, as a box-to-box playmaker, the rarest of species in Rob Smyth’s words.

Best manager Blackpool’s football was at times this season as vivid as their tangerine coloured jerseys, but their gloriously cruel relegation means that Ian Holloway narrowly misses out on the gong. I will instead stick to the prosaic choice, Sir Alex Ferguson for leading Manchester United to its historic 19^th league title, the 12^th under his reign.

Best signing Signed for pittance (believed to be about 2.5 million pounds) in the summer, Peter Odemwingie has been a revelation for West Bromwich Albion. His 15 goals in 32 league appearances have been crucial to their survival in the Premier League.

Biggest flop It’s a toss up between Joe Cole and Fernando Torres, but the latter will have to bear the greater ignominy, purely down to his price tag. Signed for 50 million pounds by Chelsea in January, he’s regularly looked a forlorn figure. His touch and his movement are a shadow of what they were two years back, and most significantly he’s scored only 1 goal in 14 appearances for his new club.

Best pundit Viewers in India have to often make-do with Steve McMahon and Paul Parker who spit out inanities in the name of punditry. Jamie Reeves offers the rare relief.

Main gripe The League’s refusal to review incidents on the basis of a referee having seen it and decided against acting on it.

Change I’d like to see for next season. It’s high time FIFA embraces goal-line technology.

Is it the best league in the world? Like Barry Glendenning says, it depends on the definition of ‘best’. The Bundesliga is perhaps the most balanced league in the world, but its short on quality. The rift in class between Barcelona and Real Madrid, and the other clubs in Spain makes the La Liga an ultimately mundane affair. The Serie A has certainly regressed in recent years, as can be seen from the performance of its clubs in the Champions League. So I’ll probably go with the Premier League at the moment. It has enough quality and it certainly keeps me captivated.

(Also posted in http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/the-best-and-the-worst-of-2010-11)

Roman's Likely Folly

Carlo Ancelotti, a season after leading Chelsea to the League and Cup double, looks increasingly likely to be relieved of his duties as manager at the end of this month. This is of course not the least bit surprising when one considers Roman Abramovich’s record as owner of Chelsea. And it is perhaps not even unfair when considering the severance package that Ancelotti may receive and the conditions under which he accepted the job in the first place.

But from a pure footballing standpoint, sacking Ancelotti would be unarguably imprudent. Here is a manager whose tactical abilities are unquestionable; a winner of 2 Champions League titles and one scudetto in addition to the Premier League trophy last season. Add to that one of the prime reasons for his appointment by Abramovich – his ability to work under the stress of overbearing owners. At AC Milan, many off-field decisions – and perhaps even a few on-field ones – were made by Silvio Berlusconi. Ancelotti, though, continued with little fuss and delivered results without ever losing his integrity.

It is never easy to attain instant success and yet Ancelotti managed that at Chelsea last season with an ageing squad that often seemed devoid of inspiration. Chelsea played with a flair unknown to Abramovich’s reign at the club and they seemed to have finally found the perfect fusion of style and success. In the summer, Michael Ballack, Deco, Juliano Belletti and Ricardo Carvalho were all released and the resultant, gaping void was sought to be filled through an infusion of youngsters that included Josh McEachran, Gael Kakuta and Daniel Sturridge – in line with the owner’s sudden desire to promote players from within the club’s youth set-up.

With injuries, though, afflicting the squad at various junctures – Frank Lampard, Didier Drogba, Michael Essien, John Terry, Jose Bosingwa, Yossi Benayoun and Alex missed large parts of the season – Chelsea seemed ill-equipped to mount a title-challenge, finding themselves fifteen points behind Manchester United in March. Yet, following a defeat of United, they went through a superb run of form that saw them close the lead to 3 points before their crucial return leg at Old Trafford against United this past Sunday. Admittedly, United outshone the Champions, surely stripping them of their coveted crown with a thrilling exhibition of attacking football that laid bare several of Chelsea’s weaknesses, which were just as apparent in the club’s Champions League quarterfinal loss earlier in the season.

The Chelsea backbone, Frank Lampard and John Terry both look to be well past their prime, necessitating an infusion of new, yet experienced talent. The signing of Fernando Torres – for an exorbitant 50 million pounds – seemingly against Ancelotti’s wishes only made matters worse. A change in system to incorporate Torres into the line-up failed miserably, and ultimately the Spaniard had to be used off the bench to ensure that the team balance is maintained.

But by coming so close to the title in spite of having an injury ridden squad in addition to numerous other hassles, Ancelotti clearly established his managerial talents. Give him the time to build a squad of his choice, and results will only be inevitable. Chelsea, very obviously, need to find replacements for Lampard and Terry, and may have to sign a conventional winger or a midfielder of proven creativity to bring the best out of Torres. To sack Ancelotti though, and entrust the rebuilding responsibilities to a new manager would be heedless.

For one, there are hardly any viable options available to Abramovich in terms of potential replacements for Ancelotti. Let’s consider, first, the case for Guus Hiddink, the Russian’s favoured choice, assuming unlikely as it may be that Hiddink is in fact ready to take up the mantle. Hiddink hasn’t managed a club, barring his brief spell as interim manager of Chelsea in 2009, since his admittedly successful stint with PSV Eindhoven between 2002 and 2006. Since then he has led the Australian National team to the 2008 World Cup Finals knockout rounds and the Russian National team to the semi-finals of Euro 2008. But he also failed in his efforts to help Russia qualify for the 2010 World Cup and the Turkish national team, which he currently manages, is struggling to qualify for the 2012 European Championships.

As a manager, Hiddink has often exhibited supreme tactical brilliance and an ability to bring the best out of a limited bunch of footballers – as can be seen from South Korea’s phenomenal run in the 2002 World Cup Finals. But he has enjoyed scanty success as manager of clubs, barring his stints at PSV – with whom he won six Eredivisie titles and the European Cup in 1988. His time at Fenerbache, Real Madrid and Real Betis all ended in displeasing failure, while at Valencia, although he may have introduced an eye-catching brand of football, his team was anything but successful. Of course, his temporary spell at Chelsea, in which he reinvigorated the side leading them to an FA Cup triumph, could be used as an indicator of his abilities. This, though, must be seen in the larger context of an absence of any pressure in the way of a fear-of-the-sack – as Hiddink was clearly in charge only for a brief period. Apart from his record at PSV, where the demands of the game are not comparable to that at Chelsea, he has little to show in the way of sustained success. I am by no means suggesting that Hiddink is an ordinary manager – he is anything but that. An implication, though, that he is better placed than Ancelotti to re-build Chelsea’s squad is highly questionable, particularly when considering Ancelotti’s prior managerial record and the fact that he has spent two seasons at Chelsea, in which he would have surely understood, better than most, the requirements of the club.

Other managers touted as potential replacements include Andre Villas-Boas, Marco van Basten, Harry Redknapp and Mark Hughes. Villas-Boas, christened by the Press as the next Mourinho, is only 33 and is in his first season as manager of Porto. He is no doubt unbeaten in the League and has led his side to next week’s Europa League final against Braga. But to replace Ancelloti with Villas-Boas, as talented a coach as he may be, could be potentially disastrous. Van Basten – who had a recent, forgettable spell with Ajax – would be an even riskier appointment. Redknapp, though, has done well in his time at Tottenham Hotspur, showcasing rare tactical nous against top quality Italian sides, but it is unlikely that he will offer anything better than what Ancelotti can. Hughes had his time with aggressive new owners at Manchester City and while his credentials weren’t particularly worsened by the stint, they certainly weren’t further strengthened.

Ancelotti has undoubtedly come short in this season’s battle, but there are few as well equipped as the Italian to oversee Chelsea’s rebuilding. He has also failed to match the club’s ambitions in the Champions League, but his experience of having won the trophy on two occasions with AC Milan means that he is best placed to lead the club’s charge on the European front. These arguments, though, it must be said, are unlikely to stop Abramovich from sacking the Italian, an inevitable event, if there ever was one.

It is not Ancelotti’s inherent decency, though, as has been suggested in some quarters which should count in his favour, but his managerial abilities which rank amongst the best in the world.

Also posted at: http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/romans-likely-folly)

Lionel Messi - A Superman

It was anything but classic. The game was more reminiscent of an Old Firm derby – feisty tackling coupled, no doubt, with a lot of feigning that added a brush of Spanish flavour. Thankfully, though, the singular genius of Lionel Messi ensured that the first leg of the Champions League semifinal tie between Real Madrid and Barcelona will not be remembered only for the wrong reasons. In the 87th minute, having already broken the deadlock, Messi waltzed through the heart of Madrid’s backline before finishing past Iker Casillas with the impudence of a boy playing in his backyard. This though was the Estadio Santiago Bernabéu, the home of Madrid, a most intimidating arena, which Messi quelled with imperious ease.

For the majority of the game, Madrid’s midfield trident Xabi Alonso, Pepe and Lassana Diarra, particularly the latter two, snarled and snapped at the heels of Messi and Xavi Hernandez, disrupting Barcelona’s rhythm and demonstrating their team’s apparent plan of settling for a goalless draw. The strategy, however, received a striking blow when Pepe was sent off in the 62nd minute for a high, reckless challenge on Dani Alves, which deserving as it may have been of a red card brought about a shameful response from the Barcelona full-back, who rolled along the floor as though he had been shot on his chest. His teammates who hounded referee Wolfgang Stark only made matters worse. The Madrid manager, Jose Mourinho – forever the victim, in his and only his eyes – retorted with typical sarcasm, resulting in him being sent to the stands.

The incident, however, had its direct repercussions. It opened the space in midfield that allowed Xavi to finally set the tempo for the match. Still for a brief period, Madrid held on, dogged in their resolve to prevent Barcelona from scoring. In the 77th minute, however, the first goal arrived via the unlikeliest of routes. Ibrahim Afellay, signed from PSV Eindhoven in January, and brought on as a substitute for Pedro, raced on to Xavi's diagonal pass before squaring the ball with pinpoint accuracy for the darting Messi to finish cutely from two yards out. It was a rare gem in a hitherto dreary fixture.

The goal opened up the possibility of a further onslaught from the Catalans. But Madrid closed down the spaces well, continuing, however, with its robust tackling that bordered on the wild. Respite from the attack though did not last forever. In the 87th minute, the moment of genius arrived. Messi, picked up the ball a few metres inside the Madrid half and beat a string of defenceless players – five in all – before adroitly finding a seemingly impossible shot past Iker Casillas, the turn on which felt like it had to have taken a deflection. The replays revealed that he needed no such luck. The finish was one of matchless class – a perfect culmination to a most splendid dribble. It was a goal worthy of winning any football game and fortunately for us, it takes away some of the limelight from what was an ugly, spiteful affair that was unbecoming of two of the giants of world sport.

The year is turning out to be an Annus Mirabilis of extraordinary proportions for Messi. His goals last night have taken his tally to a remarkable 52 from 50 appearances. The numbers though hardly begin to tell the story. It is the manner of his play, elegant, wondrous and perennially sublime that makes him such a treat to watch. I haven’t seen the likes of Pele and Maradona play on live television. But it’s difficult to imagine that Messi is too far behind them. He is unquestionably the best I’ve seen.

(Also posted at: http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/lionel-messi-a-superman)

Of Ryan Giggs

Recently, this blog turned three years old. Yet it doesn't contain a single post on Ryan Giggs – an oddity when you consider that I am a fan of Manchester United. I wish, though, to clarify that this is down, solely, to my failure to find the words that describe Giggs best.

On Tuesday night, with my eyes red and sore from lack of sleep I watched Manchester United defeat Chelsea and book itself a place in the semi-finals of the Champions League. Both goals on the night, as was the case with the solitary goal in the first leg of the tie, were created by Giggs – a player who at thirty-seven years of age continues to make the biggest of impacts at the highest of stages. His performance left me ecstatic and yet a little dazed. How do you describe a player who has been a paragon over a career that has spanned more than twenty-years?

To this day, I struggle to find the right words to describe Giggs’s brilliance – he is perhaps a freak of nature or just a peerless genius who with striking regularity chooses to impose his will like no other. Every time, though, when I endeavour to put words on paper to express the sheer class that has permeated through his career, I find that my vocabulary – limited to mundane adjectives like ‘brilliant’; ‘superb’; ‘outstanding’; ‘great’, etc., all of which he is, and more – is utterly inadequate to define the full extent of his qualities. What I can say, however, is watching Giggs play, at least as a Manchester United fan (I cannot speak for the others), is as joyous a sight as there is. Enough said.

A few thoughts on Inter Milan versus Schalke

If you haven’t yet seen a video of Dejan Stankovic’s goal against Schalke, you must. Both the technique and the execution of the volley from the half-way line were quite sublime. This is of course not the first time that Stankovic has scored from such a distance, having done so against Genoa in October, 2009. In both instances, it was a piece of instantaneous thinking coupled with extraordinary execution. There are few moments from this season that match his goal against Schalke yesterday for sheer exhilaration – I’ve already seen the video a hundred times and I still can’t stop watching it.

***

Stankovic’s goal which came in the first minute of play at the San Siro was followed by a line of goals that ultimately saw Schalke run out, miraculously, as 5-2 winners. Amongst these goals, one was scored by the Champions League’s all-time top scorer, Raul Gonzalez – this was his seventieth in the competition. The only player likely to overtake him in the list is Lionel Messi, who stands at 33 goals from 52 games, unless Super Pippo – Filippo Inzaghi – decides to carry on playing into his fifties. Anyway, the goal itself was typical Raul – taking Jefferson Farfan’s ball in his stride on the half-turn before slotting it past the goalkeeper with remarkable nonchalance even when under acute pressure from a defender.

In his last few seasons at Real Madrid, Raul had found goals hard to come by and his influence at the club that regards him as a talisman was on the wane. The move to Schalke was an odd choice – away from the limelight of Madrid to a club in Germany that won its last league title in 1958 – but in scoring 17 goals this season, Raul has showed that he continues to retain an appetite for the game and more importantly the class to perform at the highest level. But with Schalke languishing in the middle of the Bundesliga, unless he moves elsewhere, an unlikely event, this may well be the last season that the great man plays in the competition in which he has repeatedly stamped his signature.

***

Also apparent in Schalke’s play yesterday, not merely due to the scoreline, was the imprint of Ralf Rangnick’s methods within weeks of his managerial takeover. Rangnick, famous for his time at Hoffenheim, in which he took the village club from the lower echelons of the German leagues to the Bundesliga, all the while adhering to a dynamic, attacking philosophy, is a coach of eccentric virtues. A key part of his coaching methods is a drill called ‘bananas’ in which he schools his team to get the ball forward as swiftly as possible – a method akin to Graham Taylor’s sans, though, an adherence to the long ball and aesthetically far more pleasing, which makes the play as a spectacle remarkably thrilling. Against Inter Milan, Schalke dazzled with their attacking play – lightning quick counter attacks, laying bare the severe frailties in Inter’s defence. If Schalke do qualify, which barring a wonder of wonders they will, expect the winner of the tie between Chelsea and Manchester United to face a similar, quite astounding threat to their core.

The Lost Art of Defending

[Also posted at: http://www.criticaltwenties.in/sport/the-lost-art-of-defending]

The illustrious Italian journalist, Gianni Brera is reported to have once written that ‘the perfect football game would finish 0-0’. Going by his philosophy, yesterday’s seven Barclays Premier League fixtures in which forty one goals were scored would represent hugely imperfect contests. Goals, though, some would say, always make for a satisfying treat and it may be wise to shun the larger tactical causes and enjoy the occasions as it were. But even if we were to disregard the views of Brera, which may appear to border on the ludicrous, goals that result out of defensive lapses of amateurish magnitude and a lack of tactical acuity from the teams are of far inferior alluring value.

A significant part of football’s splendour lies in its low scores. Goals are meant to be a premium and a team’s ability to defend competently while not compromising on its attacking options is a vital element of the sport, and contributes towards much of its beauty. Spectacular as some of yesterday’s games were, they were marked by particularly pitiful defending. The Newcastle United–Arsenal fixture, for instance, embodied a typical game of two halves, only though for all the wrong reasons. Arsenal were no doubt irrepressible in the first period, spraying incisive passes that tended to beguile, but the nature of Newcastle’s defending must have had its fans cringing in anguish – the space that was allowed to each of the scorers to either stroke or head home their finishes was quite inexplicable. In the second half, it was the turn of the Arsenal fans to cringe as their team somehow contrived to let slip a four goal lead. Some would point to the red card accorded to Abou Diaby that preceded Newcastle’s goals as the basis of Arsenal’s failings, but the incident only served to mask their otherwise deplorable defensive showing.

At the Molineux, Manchester United, hitherto unbeaten and perched at the top of the league, scored inside three minutes before allowing Wolverhampton Wanderers to equalise and take the lead inside the first half by committing acts of footballing hara-kiri. Rafael’s decision to turn his back on Matt Jarvis and allow the Wolves winger to take a quick corner led to a free header for George Elokobi for the equaliser before Nenad Miljas’s floated free-kick was bundled in by a gratefully unmarked Kevin Doyle to give the home side an advantage that eventually proved insurmountable.

A glimpse at the highlights of the other games played yesterday and a reading of the match reports clearly indicate that wretched defensive performances pervaded across the league. Maybe this was nothing more than a flash in the pan, with a rare concoction of attacking brilliance and shoddy defending providing a day of nutty entertainment. But defensive frailties have been at the root of the problems of almost all teams near the top of the League. Nemanja Vidic has, perhaps, been the outstanding defender in England this season, but as a team United have looked dreadfully vulnerable from set-plays. Manchester City have been steadier than most at the back, but a centre-back pairing of Vincent Kompany and Kolo Toure does not always inspire the greatest confidence. Arsenal’s failings are far too well documented to hark back upon, while Chelsea have the found the need to splash twenty-five million pounds on David Luiz, a young centre-back of supposedly rich talent. Are these problems, though, a mere reflection of the quality of players or are they a product of greater tactical causes?

Zonal marking from set-plays – where defenders mark specific zones of the penalty box as opposed to an assigned opponent – has often been derided as a tactic incapable of providing success. Every time Liverpool conceded a goal from a set-piece during Rafael Benitez’s tenure, it was attributed to ‘inherent flaws’ of the zonal marking system that was in operation. Yet, when teams using a customary man-to-man marking method concede goals from set-pieces, rarely is it considered a result of the system, with only its poor implementation deemed as the cause – best exemplified by Liverpool’s own movement away from the arrangement.

For all the hostility against the method, in theory, zonal marking seems a sensible tactic. By stationing its best defenders in the most dangerous zones inside the penalty box, a team is quite likely to alleviate the pressures of defending its goal. One of the primary concerns against the system relates to a defender’s ability to deal with attackers who have a run on them. But as Howard Wilkinson says: “Attackers get a run on you whether you are zone defending or man-for-man marking. They always call the shots. You start from a standing position but once the ball is in flight, you’ve got the distance the ball travels to get yourself moving.” Of greater practical significance, though, is Alan Hansen’s statement that the use of the system by the hugely successful Liverpool teams of the 70s and 80s of which he was a part, never weakened their ability to win Championships in England or in Europe.

An interesting parallel may lie in the larger movement towards zonal marking as a holistic defensive strategy. For many years, teams had defended by assigning a specific defender to deal with each of the attackers with the very notion of marking in zones considered antithetical to football strategies. Luis Vincio at Napoli in the mid 1970s and Nils Liedholm at Roma in the early to mid 1980s had tested a system involving zonal marking with variable success, but it found its perfect synthesis only under Arrigo Sacchi at AC Milan in the late 1980s. Sacchi’s system entailed pressing in zones and concentrating on marking space as opposed to marking in relation to the position of individual players. The success of his Milan side is often considered the last great tactical revolution, with almost all modern-day teams applying a version of the system. Yet, when it comes to defending set-pieces, a general opposition to zonal marking continues to persist. In almost all of the six seasons under Benitez, Liverpool were amongst the teams that conceded the fewest goals from set-pieces – a statistic that should be a celebration of the tactic as opposed to the misplaced indictments that are often served out.

On the face of it, a tally of forty one goals in seven league games is suggestive of a league that is brimming with attacking excellence. Behind the facade, though, lie the blighted defences that constitute the more telling cause behind the goal-glut. Any argument in favour of the Premier League’s quality must be softened by its defensive artlessness, which runs counter to one of the fundamental elements that makes football beautiful.

It's Barcelona's Year

[Also posted at http://www.criticaltwenties.in/uncategorized/its-barcelonas-year-2]

2010 glitters with several displays of sporting excellence. Some ventured into territories previously considered inaccessible – Sachin Tendulkar, alone gathered two such records with his seventh Test Match century of the year making him the first in history to compile fifty centuries, having in February become the first man to score a One-Day-International double-century, while John Isner and Nicolas Mahut competed in the longest match ever, at Wimbledon, with Isner winning the fifth and final set, 70-68.

Some took transcendental steps towards greatness – including Rafael Nadal whose triumph at three of tennis’ four Grand Slams were each achieved on a different surface; Spain’s national football team, who won the World Cup by adhering to an eye-pleasing pass and move style of football; and Kobe Bryant whose second consecutive NBA Finals MVP, helped the Los Angeles Lakers capture their 17^th title. Some exhibited nerves of steel when lesser mortals would have crumbled – Graeme McDowell’s intrepid putt to secure victory for Europe in the Ryder Cup; Sebastian Vettel’s start-to-finish triumph at the season ending Abu Dhabi Grand Prix to clinch the Formula One title; tiny Serbia’s Davis Cup victory in front of a raucous crowd at Belgrade were all displays of guts and courage. But part of the problem when you write on, and watch more than one sport, as Simon Barnes helpfully points out in his book – A Meaning of Sport – is to find a formula for answering the question: which sport do you like best? Thankfully for me, ever since football captured my imagination, I haven’t had to look beyond it for the answer.

Yet, it wasn’t Spain and their World Cup victory that provided the greatest pleasure, but rather the cream of Spanish clubs, F.C. Barcelona, who have made this a year to prize, by playing the most beautiful and most merciless football, with scarily metronomic regularity. Their 5-0 trouncing of arch-rivals Real Madrid at the Camp Nou on November 29 represents without a flicker of a doubt the definitively brilliant moment of 2010. It isn’t often that one has the privilege of watching such a perfect amalgam of beauty and efficiency on the football pitch, but Barcelona’s performance on that night was all that and more – indisputably the best I’ve ever seen.

In a season marred by the ignominies of FIFA’s award of the rights to host the 2018 and 2022 World Cup Finals to Russia and Qatar respectively, amid allegations of corruption against several of its prominent members, Barcelona’s triumph in the Classico served to remind us of why we continue to show interest in this blemished sport. Beautiful football and effective football do not always coincide – one only needs to look at Arsenal who have been sublime at times over the past few seasons, but are trophy-less since 2005. Barcelona on the other hand, not only play gloriously, but also win gloriously. Since Pep Guardiola, the midfield pivot in Johan Cruyff’s Dream Team of the 1990s, took over as the club’s manager in 2008, they have won one Champions League, two Spanish La-Liga titles, one UEFA Super Cup, one FIFA World Club Cup, one Copa Del Ray and two Spanish Super Cups – that’s eight pieces of silverware in the last two years – all achieved by playing in an outrageously gorgeous manner.

But back to their victory over Madrid, it wasn’t expected to be anything near as easy as it turned out to be. After all, Jose Mourinho who had masterminded Inter Milan’s win over Barcelona in the semi-finals of the Champions League in April was at Madrid’s helm. Under Mourinho, Real had made an excellent start to the season, looking imperious at times and giving the impression that they could match Barcelona for style and substance, but how wrong we all were. With Xavi Hernandez and Andres Iniesta conducting the orchestra, Lionel Messi, playing centrally as a false nine and David Villa and Pedro cutting in from the wings, Barcelona weaved a string of mesmeric passes throughout the course of the game. Madrid positioned onto the carousel within minutes of the start, were forced into enduring ninety minutes of giddily fluid passing and movement from Barcelona.

Any doubts of Barcelona’s pedigree were put to rest within the early exchanges of the game. Even before they took the lead in the 10^th minute, Messi had struck the upright with a wonderfully lobbed effort that had left Iker Casillas spellbound and stranded – a clear sign of things to come. The opening goal that soon followed was one of ingenious mastery. Iniesta, having taken control of a perfectly weighted ball from Messi in an inside-left position, jinked through a mass of Madrid players before playing an intricate pass into an area opened-up by Villa’s movement to the left. This allowed Xavi, who had made a late run – shrewd as ever – free to finish from within six yards. In many ways the goal epitomised Barcelona’s philosophy – quick, sharp, incisive passing and a spare man available at every juncture.

Dizzying to watch, one can only imagine the pain that the Madrid players had to suffer. The second goal was again a product of the epoch-marking football that was showcased earlier at the global stage by Spain’s World Cup winning squad – Villa picked out on the left by Xavi’s ball, crossed for Pedro to finish from close-range. The third and the fourth goals, both created by Messi’s cunning and finished clinically by Villa were again treats for the connoisseur. Four-nil up, with half an hour still to go, Barcelona kept hold of the ball for what seemed an eternity, lacing one geometric pattern after another. In stoppage time, substitute Jeffren Suarez netted, helping his club complete the 5-0 rout – a manita, a little hand, a goal for each finger.

Of course, Barcelona have defeated Madrid by margins of great decisiveness on past occasions too, not least the 6-2 victory at the Santiago Bernabeu in the 2008-09 season. But this was Mourinho’s Real side – the Portuguese’s teams have never lost by greater than a three goal margin in the past, which disgrace itself he had suffered only thrice before. Lining up Real in much the same manner as he did Inter Milan in the Champions League semi-final may have been a mistake, but it’s likely that Barcelona in the form that they were in, would have defeated Madrid, and trounced them at that, irrespective of any of Mourinho’s tactical scheming.

Messi, in the eyes of most, the best player in the world didn’t score for the first time in ten games, but his influence was palpable. Constantly dropping into midfield and combining with Xavi and Iniesta, the Argentine showed that any suggestions that he wasn’t as complete a player as Cristiano Ronaldo, was far from the truth – if anything Messi is the more absolute package.

The mark of Barcelona’s superiority is particularly evinced by the passing statistics. They completed a whopping 636 passes to Madrid’s 279 on the night with Xavi alone effecting 114 out of his 117 attempted passes – each one of them hit with purpose and precision. For all of Messi’s and Iniesta’s brilliance – the other nominees for the FIFA Ballon d’Or award – it is hard to look beyond Xavi, who has been in almost otherworldly form, as the best player of the year.

At the core of Barcelona’s success is Cruyff’s ideology – pass, pass and pass to death – tweaked to suit modern day requirements. Cruyff during his time as Barcelona’s coach had ingrained in the club an ethos for developing players of a certain ilk, ones to whom the collective constitutes the ultimate. No one typifies this better than Sergio Busquets, the often underrated midfield anchor. Busquets’s ability to read the game and let it flow with simple, yet perceptive passes is a crucial ingredient in Barcelona’s system. He frequently drops into defence as a third centre-back of sorts to allow Dani Alves and Maxwell or Eric Abidal, as the case may be, to bomb simultaneously from full back, creating in effect a 3-3-1-3 shape. The tiki-taka system as Barcelona’s possession style of play has now come to be known is as much a defensive scheme as it is an offensive one – after all, a team must have possession of the ball to score a goal.

But the tactical aspects of their game only tell a part of the story. Eight of their eleven starters on that night – all bar Villa, Abidal and Alves – are graduates of the famed La Masia youth academy, nurtured to uphold Cruyff’s tenets. Cruyff as manager of Barcelona had no doubt had the benefit of an ensemble of star footballers that saw the club win four consecutive La-Liga titles between 1991 and 1994, but the Dutch, himself a product of the famed Ajax Academy was quick to endorse a school of similar virtues at Barcelona, the fruits of which have been splendidly laid bare in recent times.

The present lot are perhaps the cream of the crop, the ultimate oeuvre of Catalonia, a team that rivals the late 1950s Madrid side of Alfredo Di Stefano and Ferenc Puskas, the celebrated ‘total football’ playing Ajax team of the early 1970s, the Manchester United team of the mid to late 1960s that contained the Holy Trinity – Denis Law, Bobby Charlton and George Best – and Arrigo Sacchi’s AC Milan side of the late 1980s. They are, though, only two points ahead of Madrid, and come the end of the season may not even be crowned Champions, but the victory at Camp Nou on November 29 has left an ineffaceable impression that will reverberate through history – a mark indeed of true greatness.