football

Universe Podcast revisited: United City.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

On a whim – whilst out walking, acksherly – decided to throw out a podcast. Some will know I’ve done this occasionally, over many years. Have been known to confess that I never listen to podcasts myself… but aware others do, so hope this may be of interest.

Foolishly but characteristically decided to allow myself no notes or prep… then talk United City. So have and it’s here. 20-odd minutes. By all means bawl from the sidelines.

Pic is from The Guardian.

On Carrick (& Woodgate): delighted that (dare we say it?) cultured former players got off to a flyer, here. And that United looked a whole lot more like an MU side should look.

On Dorgu: think the fella’s pretty mediocre – or has been – but he had a great day, today.

On Mainoo: has to play – had to play under Amorim.

On Amorim: badly let down by the players be he didn’t & couldn’t *effect change*.

On Pep: a kind of #coachingfascist?

Have a listen and feel free to come over all opinionated.

Amorim.

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‘Emotional’ in what turns out to have been a critical meet with Jason Wilcox. Possibly intransigent re- the structure and playing style of his side. Bit lost, too often, in the dugout – looking rather concerningly downbeat; exhibiting poor or poorly-disguised body language.

These are markers in the demise, or strands in the argument against him. But surely the paucity of the *actual playing*, together with the worst-ever stats around results-over-time are the clinchers? Real football people understand that teams can play well without getting results but fans, both home and away would probably say United have been dogshit for an age. (Since before Amorim, to be fair).

Levels of performance, as a team, as individuals, have been shockingly, almost fascinatingly low. The widely-disliked Fernandes, whose own form has been patchy, has been arguably the only red that high-achieving sides might remotely covet. Who else is a genuine, nailed-on, up-to-standard United player? (Accept that Cunha might get there: but ordinary – or mixed – of late. Weirdly perhaps, Martinez has that combination of flinty resilience and composure, when on his game, that has marked-out United defenders – or any other top-level defenders – over the years’ But who else?)

It’s a profoundly mediocre squad. Shockingly so, given the heft and resources of the club. There’s that general sense that United have had a majority of players regularly active in the first team who should be nowhere near a Manchester United side. Personal issues or vendettas aside, the situation was never sustainable.

I’ve had more sympathy than many, for Ar Ruben. Likeable. Plainly honest. With a rare dash of humility. Obsessive, for sure and probably too inflexible over his system(s).

He will have arrived knowing United were poor, but surely believing he could coach even ordinary players towards that cohesiveness and dynamism so intrinsic to his playing style. He would have thought that Mainoo, Rashford and the rest would follow him and commit. We may never know how those two potentially key players drifted so disastrously and early from the cause but the gaffer has to take some responsibility for not gaining their trust, re-claiming them for the club. Even if their egos or insecurities were instrumental towards their exclusion or exit.

The word manager has become central to the regime-change. Amorim was strident, in his last presser, about how he was recruited under that term. (He did not elaborate, but was evidently suggesting the distinction between Proper Gafferhood and the role of the coach). I suspect he has been wronged on this – undermined and re-imagined by the United hierarchy in a role with less power, in short. He thought he would be the man to buy and sell – or at least decide about buying and selling – as well as select, day-to-day. He thought he was going to be supported, even, in that wider re-mit. No. He was going to be watched-over, then over-ruled by Presiding Individuals. This is why the ‘Head Coach’ got angry; felt betrayed.

I said when Amorim joined the club that he was probably better than they deserved. This still may be true – particularly in the sense of him being a richly capable and honourable man. United have been dogshit for an age. The hierarchy (whom of course we know very little about) may still be stinking the place out.

Ironically and maybe inevitably, there have been a few signs that football may at some stage have broken out, should RA have seen out the season. Ill-timed injuries – ha! When are they not? – have broken the flow that might have resulted from an attacking midfield containing Fernandes, Cunha and a rejuvenating Mount. Young defenders have threatened to look the part, on times, almost obscuring the possibility that a back three containing a fit Martinez, De Ligt and Maguire *might* be competitive, possibly to a high level, in a division where a Manchester United side that patently ‘can’t defend’ stand sixth. A certain energy was flickering, in possession of the ball.

But any bunch of clowns could score against them… and mostly, they did. So any flickers of optimism were soon doused. Mediocre players were failing to do their jobs… but so too was Amorim. Not scary enough to demand improvement and get it. Not convincing enough to free up creativity and flow. Not inspiring enough to be really followed, culture-wise. So ultimately responsible.

Image from BBC Sport.

Town.

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Fan-dom. Funny old game, eh? Maybe particularly when you’re a part-timer (like me), living 340 miles from the object of your viceral-tribal lurv-thing, or whatever it is.

Town. Grew up there and went to virtually every home game, aged 10-15. Then plenty more aged 15-22. Then on special occasions; ‘home visits’.

Been in Wales, see, for forty years or more. (And what a glorious privilege it’s been). So family life – my own, kids etc – got in the way of journeys Up North and back in time. But been doing more, largely due to our mum’s illness, and it’s all tugging a bit.

With every visit the realisations multiply, somehow. Unconscious or inexplicable truths around the magnitude of early life, early mates. Might not be the case for everybody but clear to me now that those mates from Primary School were and are about as good and as key as you’re ever gonna get. Torn between eulogising them and moving on: the universe probably needs to hear about the fabulous ordinary guys who have carried me through life, and will probably carry me out of it, unsung. But too intrusive of their quietness to go naming it. Too invasive of their unshowy, implacably honest ground.

All this feeds in to football. Those individuals; our tribe. I walk the genuinely grim or grimy streets around Blundell Park, on *that mission*: to go support the lads. (Yes they do finally have a women’s team but I’m too late and too far away to participate in that welcome ‘innovation’). The lads, who used to be Stuart Brace and Matt Tees before Terry Donovan and Mike Brolly became the boys Vernam, Rose and Warren. Six times I’ve walked in there, in the last year, through but with the other daft buggers in their Town clobber. Dads. Grandads. Mums. Daughters. All kinda sounding the same. All wanting the same and feeling some kind of connection: to this Town; to this place.

Football. I hate loads about it – the cheating, the money, the ‘Authorities’ near and far. The 21st century moral black hole of it. But walking briskly in, as you do, to Grimsby Town FC, at Blundell Park Cleethorpes is a wonderful, grounding pleasure. And it registers win lose or draw.

Last night I couldn’t be there. And/but they were on the tellybox. Tranmere. We’re 9th, they’re 16th in the table, or were. I’m watching from Pembrokeshire.

It looks a decent night – and the commentator says as much – before soon changing his tune. (You’re right up against the Humber/North Sea estuary multiplex, generally haunted by apocalyptic, cod-hurling ‘showers’. We soon got one). Important game for both sides; the brief interviews with the respective managers reinforced that view. Artell for GTFC thoughtful in that articulate, passive-aggressive way that he has.

Town have been dropping-off, results-wise, despite having a good coach and a solid, possibly even exceptional wider culture. Whether it’s a dip in confidence, or the presence of TV cameras, who knows, but Grimsby are poor in the first half. The squad has as many players who look good on the ball as the top handful of sides in the division but they fell into that awful lower-league hoofing-thing. Almost every contact with the ball was a ‘clearance’. It was Sunday League. Tranmere were better *and* they were winning every second ball. (So not only were Town failing to play to their footballing strengths, they were failing to compete). No complaints that Tranmere lead 1-0 at the break.

I’m a coach and slinger of wild opinions so let’s get into this. Warren, Turi, Vernam and Rose are good players at this level. And more broadly Artell has deliberately gathered a squad who can play patient, skilful (dare I say it?) intelligent football. Phases of passing. Good movement. Ball into feet. Rehearsed plays. I’ve watched them do it, often impressively. Last night they were without their best player, McEachran, who sits and passes and turns and makes the thing tick. But Turi – the guy tasked with filling the McEachran-shaped hole – can also play. Last night, for much of the game, Pym, the keeper and the likes of Warren (unusually and disappointingly) were clattering the ball over his head, bypassing the central midfield.

This is ok if it works. Last night, for 45 mins plus, it was bloody awful. Turi failed to show, or impose his will on the frankly amateurish chaos around him. Rose almost literally never got a touch, reinforcing the belief that he simply can’t play unless Town are threading balls in to feet. Vernam had an absolute ‘mare, from start to finish. Walker – who *does do* this – spent about an hour solely intent on drawing fouls. (For me, he was an embarrassment but he’s not alone at the club for ‘falling easily’: and yes I am happy to call out the coaching staff on this. Of course they are seeing #PremierLeagueLegends do this on a daily basis, but for me Artell and co should be discouraging it not using it as a strategic tool).

But on. To a second half where the Mariners found themselves and a good dollop of their game, equalising before probing for the winner that they may have deserved. As he often does, Artell made smart, timely substitutions and had obviously *had words|* about the lack of courage and composure in the first period. Burns, who for the first time in my limited experience looked a threat, scored a fine goal and would have notched a decisive second but for a remarkable save for Tranmere’s superannuated keeper. It was ‘all Town’ until, disastrously, the defence switched-off and allowed the visitors to *absolutely steal it* in the 96th minute. Horror show!

I had a brother and plenty mates there. They will have felt distraught at that cruel denouement but also at the capitulation in the first half. Town stopped doing it the Town Way. Good players stopped being brave enough to show and to pass to feet. It’s happened a zillion times, at a million clubs. But bloody tough to see that at your own.

Let’s party.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Remarkable in terms of the record and remarkable because of how it felt. Wiegman and England.

The manager (or is it coach?) *really must* have something extraordinary going on. We can only guess that it oozes out from that intellectual calm. And maybe that her huddles are truly and genuinely inspirational.

This is not to say that the woman from The Hague can’t plan, or juggle, or read the game. Surely only Emma Hayes is at Wiegman level in terms of strategy and tactical awarenesses? But where Hayes has a physical presence, Ar Sarina has that quaker-like calm.

She’s needed it. Because (here’s where it gets weird) not only is there an argument that her team repeatedly scraped through this thing but also that very few of them played anywhere near their capacity. Might sound ungenerous or even churlish but that rarest of things the Dispassionate View might see things thataway. Look; if it could be remotely possible to judge (and by this I mean set aside the excitement and the drama and *really judge*) then who gets an 8/10, say, over the tournament?

Before you people freak out at the essential negativity here let me offer a friendly biff around the bonce. I get this… and I get that – duh – if Ingerland really underperformed, then clearly they can get to a frightening level. One where we really might dispassionately talk of dynasties. They won here – wow! Let’s party! – without generating phases of play; without relentlessly closing down; without being all that good. It was a remarkable case (to use a Proper English phrase) of muddling through.

Hampton. Hampton was consistently good. The farces around penalties foisted her into another space, where palpitations and ardent, myopic tribalism inevitably cast her as hero and legend. She made some goodish penalty saves… but most of us would have saved them. No matter: for her general, allround goalkeeping play, she gets an 8. Excellent temperament. Strikes the ball well and often beautifully. HH – who let’s remember turned the issue of the Earps-void or Earps-omission into a non-issue – is now unarguably in the top two or three keepers on the planet. She played to her level consistently. I’m not sure anyone else did.

Walsh is often quiet – it’s just the way she plays – but she was relatively uninfluential. Stanway was mixed. Williamson has sublime composure and head-up passing quality but apart from an accomplished display in the final, the captain was decent rather than exceptional. Toone was in and out, bits and pieces, as she has been for eighteen months. Mead likewise. Hemp had a strongish final but was disappointing through the tournament. Carter looked what she is: honest, strong but limited. Greenwood played below her best – her best being ver-ry good, both in defence and going forward. Less arrowed passes, less brilliant dead balls.

James and Bronze have both been crocked. Bronze still managed to be a key figure, despite being vulnerable last night. Her courage may hoist her rating above 7; I’ll leave that to you. James, apart from that thrilling early goal, was nowhere near her beguiling best – but crocked.

I’m a huge fan of Russo, who (as previously noted) may have the best engine in world football. Outside the box she’s fabulous. Can hold and turn and run like hell. Her energy and sheer willingness are sensational. She got a good solid header in to equalise Spain’s lovely (but poorly-defended) opener but *did miss* opportunities in the earlier rounds and is not, in my view a great finisher generally. Wiegman may, however, put Russo’s name down on the team-mate before anybody else’s and I would have no argument. She has class… and she has that engine.

I too must dash. Let the other scribes do the ‘definitive’ stories and the marks out of ten. I’ve a mum with dementia in front of me and no time to unscramble the scramble.

England won two on the bounce – incredible. Penalties again, entirely credibly but also veering towards another mess. But no. Charles and somebody else and then Kelly stood up. The latter loves the theatre of this and embodies it. A mischievous prance at the ball and this time a fluent, fabulous connection. Job done and let’s party.

Wins just happening.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It’s dangerous but it feels important and maybe even right to stick down a few things about the Lionesses. Knowing they will be judged – not by many, of course, but judged. These things are true for me. Let’s get the vilest or most contentious one out the way first-up.

The penalty fluff-out means we can’t go calling these women #warriors*. It was an international embarrassment and it was bad for the women’s game.

(*OK. Qualification  numero uno. You could probably describe Bronze’s performance as heroic, and therefore warrior-like. She brought everything. I might argue that the only other England player to play up to their level – and therefore express courage in a different sense – was Kelly, who came on and performed).

We can’t describe Hampton’s performance as unequivocally heroic, because she was mediocre during the second half, and wasteful with those strangely over-pumped hoofs up the park – twenty five yards beyond her attack. (Probably adrenaline or stress but weirdly in-keeping with the general level of mis-execution). Yes she may be the best keeper in the tournament for her driven passes and general work, and yes she went into the shootout with three hundredweight of cotton wool up her nozzer, but how many penalties did she actually *have to save?*) Let her enjoy her moment, absolutely, but this was a win conjured by abstracted qualities, barely (if at all?) expressed.

Blimey. What does that even mean?

It means England have quality – they have the second or third best squad in the tournament – and this can out in extraordinary, fascinating, infuriating or cruelly redemptive ways. Russo can ‘earn’ you a win for her lionhearted and endless running, despite her repeatedly poor finishing. (Missed headers in the tournament, rather feebly missed shooting chances and a continuing and concerning lack of fox-in-the-boxness. But all that wonderful other stuff!). Greenwood can earn you a win for her rare steadiness and drilled crossfield passes. James can earn you a win, with her electrifying brilliance. Or maybe Sweden can just out-capitulate you in the lottery that is the shootout.

England can be truly lousy, defensively, from Carter’s workaday limitations to Williamson’s fabulous-but-flawed, non-physical, almost metaphysical reliance on wit and game-reading skills. They can be painfully easy to play through or around: Sweden did that, first half.

Esme Morgan, who replaced her injured skipper, is a profoundly good footballer but she is almost nailed-on to offer a howler, as she did late in extra-time, almost ‘fatally’. Walsh is a sort of elite water-carrier very much in the mould of the modern Academy Era: deeply proficient at rebounding passes and playing safe and short. But like those central defenders, you wouldn’t mind playing against her. There is something there that you can really open up.

But hang on. We should note to the universe that Ingerland did stir impressively to grab back a) a chance and then b) the initiative with firstly a great goal (made by Kelly and finished by Bronze) and the momentum-capping scramble ninety seconds later. Russo might even have won it before extra-time had she not failed to sort her feet again. However, England’s fresh legs looked like they might carry them through, as the 90 minutes expired.

Extra-time was almost all Sweden. The multiplicity of changes (and/or tiredness mental or physical, and/or possibly inadequate direction) saw Wiegman’s side look listless and open as overtime ticked away. Sweden, not the Lionesses, had heads up and energy re-primed. England had little of the ball, making almost no phases of play. (In fact England rarely do this – other than those sideways or backwards rebounds between central midfield or defenders. Walsh making 80 passes with almost none of them counting). Then we had those penalties.

I dislike pens but concede immediately and pitifully that we probably have to go there in the modern era. These were garbage: an embarrassment. The players and staff will know that and do that juggle where they both acknowledge and move on. But they should note that because of Mead’s anaemic performances over many months and James’s in-out temperament, they may need to be taking pen 12 and 13.

England have been fortunate again in the draw and I expect them to make the final. They should. They may go on and win it, dynamically and with style. They do have quality. But almost everywhere you look, they also have soft-spots. Players who get that glazed eyes thing or that rush of fear. Wiegman really must be exceptional at galvanising something but it’s hard to identify what it is. Because errors. Because despite the evidence of wins, she will know she has players who cannot execute really simple things, in the moment.

Be honest, despite this evidence of comebacks and ‘resolve’, which of them feels deeply and inviolably resolute? Or perhaps more exactly, which of them has you confident that they will deliver? Maybe Bronze and Greenwood. All of Toone, Mead, Hemp, Stanway and James do feel bit willowy*, do they not – or susceptible to pressure? (Is that* a cruel word to use? If so, apologise. Reaching for the truth of this. And I acknowledge that Stanway and Toone – arguably all of them – do have a certain kind of toughness. These things are complex).

So wow; we have quite a phenomenon here. The cool record shows England, who really do have top players, are also consistently defying this litany of perceived vulnerabilities. Meaning either I’m wrong with much of the above – entirely possible, of course – or that perhaps their wins, or any wins do *just happen?* And perhaps this is wonderful?

Tuchel and Ingerland.

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It was an eyebrow-lifter, was it not? The moment when That Mad Bloke got England? That German Bloke, even. A genuinely, interestingly, eyebrow-raisingly spiky decision, from the traditional bland kings of slumbering risk-aversion. Tuchel; as gaffer. I liked it. It was fraught. It was perverse, almost. The fella’s just as likely to break out a samurai sword on the touchline as win you the World Cup.

And yet I also liked it because I’m the bloke who wrote blogs saying that even when City and Liverpool were magbloodynificent, coupla years back, briefly, Tuchel’s Chelsea were better. For a period of six or eight weeks. They were the best club side in the world. So yeh. There is both his incendiary mania-thing going on… and some brilliance.

Two games in and of course we’re still wondering. Two games won against ver-ry ordinary sides. (And no I’m not buying that ‘there are no easy games’ bollocks: Lewis-Skelly doesn’t get to march into centre-left midfield and put his headphones back on, if there are no easy games). Whoever-it-was and then Latvia are going to work, sure, and be disciplined in the modern way – have shape, have intensity – but provided you stay honest and pick your final passes you’re going to beat them. Which brings us directly to Rashford.

A confession: I do want Tuchel to bring his flamethrower to this group, which may be kinda institutionally complacent. But I also want him to cuddle and cajole. Rashford, having played the overwhelming bulk of the available minutes, despite having created almost nothing, is the most obvious recipient of Tuchel-faith – Tuchel-lurv, even. The gaffer is giving him every chance… and then some.

This conflicts your honourable scribe. A) I’m generally soft-leftie and have spent much of my life encouraging kids. B) Gramps played for MU. C) Ar Marcus *is conscious* and was plainly one the most thrilling forwards in Europe, about three years ago. His manager was obviously watching. (Klang! The thought strikes that like countryman Klopp, he may even be soft-leftie: but I doubt it and let’s move on).

Rashford nosedived and embarrassed himself at Old Trafford, over recent times. His ‘resurrection’ at Villa has been heavily overplayed. Tuchel, however, is not to be distracted from his generosity (or Rashness – geddit?) around this. I’m fine with that for now – coaching is, after all, the art of Reading the Human – so we must hope that the manager’s belief is founded on something. It may be: I hope it works out.

The player should be at his peak. I’m thinking he gets either one more go at producing before either the relationship turns towards a one-way bawl-fest, or he is quietly dropped. Rashford has had lots of possession against ordinary defenders but repeatedly beaten himself, found the opposition or fluffed his final pass.

Last night, on the other flank, Bowen had about ten percent of the opportunities Rashford had. He was effectively excluded from the game by that cruel tactical discipline around keeping shape and offering width. I felt a little sorry for him but the anarchist in me thinks maybe show a bitta spirit, son. Release the shackles; ignore that baying from behind the laptops. Race in, towards the ball. Get in the fakkin’ gaaame, san. Nick it off Rice’s toes and storm off darn the pitch. ‘Create sammink’. More fun and probably more fruitful than all that passive feet on the touchline stuff. Do that three or four times in the ninety minutes. Change the vibe and maybe the game. The alternative is you getting hoiked on the hour for ‘not being involved’.

The new England manager will have learned from games one and two. He will want his team to look less like the Old Regime – and certainly these performances felt Southgateian in terms of all that ‘patient possession’ and relatively little threat or urgency. So dull, largely. He will no doubt be clearer that Palmer and Saka will be a meaningful upgrade on Bowen and Rashford and that Rogers is a contender, despite fluffing some of his better moments against Latvia.

That retro-feel back three/five blend, with Burns as Jack Charlton and Lewis-Skelly as Kenny Sansome may work, and may even offer significant threat at t’other end of the park. Their partners seem much-of-a-muchness, their reasonable comfort on the ball and goodish pace and awareness feeling pretty interchangeable. All of Konsa, Guehi and Lewis-Skelly do that thing where they use their bodies to draw fouls as a first resort. (Don’t like it but this is where we are). Rice must play – obvs – and Bellingham, though the latter’s role may need to be considered against a fit Palmer’s strengths.

Foden is a fabulous player in search of a consistent England slot: he deserves it but may not get it. Pickford had his dead-cert-one-in-a-game moment when he took out Guehi and offered the centre-forward an open net, but the chance was woefully passed over. The keeper now has 70-plus caps, which can only point to a relative dearth of truly brilliant and consistent performers between the sticks. (In case you’re wondering, I do get the argument that Pickford is certainly a top, top performer, just not a great goalie). Walker feels like a man from another era: but still may do a job until someone who can still fizz comes in. James has always been a fine player. His superb free-kick surprised none of us. If he can get or stay really fit, for me he plays.

Let’s finish with that terrible Anglo-centric confliction: that Ingerland won but underwhelmed us all over again. Because they were mixed when we hoped they might be brilliant. Because *all that possession* but little purpose, with urgency no longer being a thing – or being a subordinate thing to the demonstration of tactical wizardry. Because of too many conceits and too few freedoms or instincts. Because of a kind of generational arrogance and ultimately an inability to execute to high standards. Oh – and because our expectations aren’t realistic, because we’re English.

 Over to you, T.T.

Time.

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Blimey, pre-navel-gazing navel gazing. Should I bother? How is it even possible to say something without scratching-up the stalest of territory – about England, about Southgate, about me sounding like a fan, not some responsible authority? It’s probably not. It’s probably not worth it. But so few of the Bigtime Charlies say anything sharp, or interesting, or tactically right, or with the visceral power or heart of the fan, that *right now*, I’m ploughing back into this. (May bin it; if I feel it neither stays true nor contributes anything worthwhile).

England got beat. Not just that, they got beat too easily, given the Southgate Culture-Matrix. That may have been the signature disappointment from the Three Lions perspective, given the now widely-held view of Garethism as a sort of well-meaning (but maybe not exactly purring) blanket of all-court, essentially defensive integrity with occasional flyers.

Walker and Guehi both made poor errors – lazy lapses – to concede the goals but generally, the team in white were off the pace, unable to intercede, were at some distance from their opposition. Given that Article A of the game plan must have read ‘we have to be on it and we have to stop them playing’ this was a pret-ty fundamental flaw, execution-wise, from England. If we were to seek comfort in the bosom of the obvious, we might say that none of Rice/Bellingham/Mainoo/Foden ‘laid a glove’ on their counterparts.

If it was in the plan to sit and not press anywhere at any time then o-kaaay. That retreat would have to be sensationally durable and watchful. (Meaning it may be theoretically possible but England are nowhere near bright or disciplined enough for that). In any case, whilst of course there was an intention to drop and defend stoutly and compellingly, the almost complete and sustained absence of pressure on the ball gifted Spain the opportunity to show the universe that they are indeed the Best Team in this Tournament by a Country Mile.

You can read this as another crass shout-out for a high, hard press, if you want. Another red-faced fan bawling for more Proper Englishness; more heart; more battle. (I don’t see it that way, but carry on). It’s more that England lacked both the legs and intent to pressure Spanish possession intelligently. When a difference could or needed to be made. Some of that can be coached; some, maybe not.

So, again generally, virtually the whole of the England side looked off the pace – reactive, some would say, in the mould and manner of their coach. Bellingham had that weird slo-mo thing of his going on; looking under-geared, getting caught in possession like some out-of-sync giant. Mainoo and Rice were absent as a force, somehow managing to avoid the bread-and-butter stuff as well as the occasional heads-up thrust. Their defence felt non-interventionist, somehow, as the lads in red simply passed to guys in space, who were routinely showing.

Which brings us to Kane. The fella may have been playing hurt the whole tournament… but he’s simply not been playing. Bollocks to the penalties; his contribution was garbage throughout. (Garbage – yes, a word a fan might use, in anger, probably).

I got bit angry with Kane for his almost complete lameness and unavailability and occasional his feeble exaggeration of contact or injury. He ran nowhere and won nothing. He rarely showed. The skipper may be a trusted player, friend and ally for Southgate but he was patently, for whatever reason, unable to contribute. The gaffer, *finally* – for the ludicrously, much-vaunted ‘bold withdrawal’ in favour of Watkins in the previous game was clearly long-delayed – called Kane in around the hour.

The other sub, Palmer, rather predictably woke England up from their slumber. There was a brief period where a contest threatened to brew, but as Pickford appeared to be the appointed (and arguably sole) pinger of vertical passes, the English Threat melted away relatively weakly. There was no great stirring. What we got from Southgate’s team was more of the low energy, menace-lite holding patterns we’ve seen throughout the competition. Players in deep positions lending other players the ball, partly, in fairness because the lads higher up the park lack the wit, spirit, confidence or freedom to burst into space and either gather and turn or race forward.

Most of that is about culture – about the coaching. Elite coaches create environments but they also groove the moves; Guardiola being the peak example. Spain have certainly been offered ‘the freedom to play’ by their gaffer but they have also been instructed to use their bright, incisive little passes. They’ve practiced getting on their proverbial bikes to find places of danger. De la Fuente plainly not only wants them to play generous attacking football but he has had the understanding and the wit to cultivate and then execute that aspiration. On the plus side, this is precisely why the BTTCM won Euro 24. The negative for England is that Southgate has never understood nor been able to produce this – particularly against good opposition.

Nothing is simple and everything is opinion. Mine is that Southgate is an almost fabulous bloke, who has led his country outstandingly well, in socio-political terms. (This is not a backhanded compliment). But despite his longer-term tournament record ‘speaking for itself’, England have mostly been a poor watch and have been beaten by teams who, like them, have strong playing resources. In this tournament, they played one half of football. One half. Outside of that, they had moments.

For a squad including Bellingham, Foden, Saka, Kane, Rice – you name the ones you rate – this both matters and (for me) should be weighed in. There is or should be an aspiration and a will to play entertaining football; particularly if you have ‘players’. In qualifiers, England have sometimes offered quality and even verve. At the major events? No. Largely caution and game-management of a dour, life-squishing kind. In Germany, during a tournament lit up by the fluency and threat of a free-spirited but well-drilled Spanish side, England were poor, despite making another final.

I am happy for Southgate to be knighted. With our respect and our thanks. He should also go – unquestionably. It’s just time.

Disappointments.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

I don’t know anybody who actually thought Southgate would ‘ring the changes’ at half-time, last night. (Did the pundits actually expect that? I muted, early-doors but not before hearing Neville saying something hugely bold and generous about Trent: fair dooos, for a United Man). But the no subs thing became like some Uber-Gareth phenomenon, eh, as the deathly stasis wore on? There became something Ansel Adams-like about both the epic, barren non-performance of his side, and the vacant-but-rich flat-lining image we innocent bystanders were conjuring of the post-match interview, pre-Bellingham.

It would have been some vista, that, with Southgate’s magnificent chin set hard against an ominously swirling backdrop of plastic pint-pots, bratwursts and in then out-of-focus flags. He would have said something about ‘belief in the boys and the process’ before the lads from St Jan’s Ambulance dragged him away by the legs.

But Bellingham – out-of-form, largely; laboured and even a little lame with some of his in-box theatrix – did happen. He did conjure something spectacular and mad: in all this dullness. Gareth was spared – we were all, all spared. The Exceptional Reality that us Inglish inhabit got another nick in the bedpost… and those laughable hours of non-intervention by the coach turned out alright. Gareth could march once more through the miraculous madness/genius corridor and fight (or flee) another day.

I don’t know anybody who is crediting Southgate for any of this: I genuinely don’t think I know anybody who thinks he was right to wait and wait. And this is not because we lack patience or understanding; most of us respect the idea that faith in players is or can be both wonderful and (wot’s the word?) redemptive. The gaffer can and will make the argument that a) he was right in theory and b) (obvs) that he was right in practice. Kane may have been every bit as non-interventionist as his coach, during the tournament and the game, but the bloke nodded the winner. So it’s true that things worked out… and true that most of the universe raged against what felt like patent and even cowardly inaction from the England coaching staff.

Fabulous, ‘deadly’, daft contraflows remain. Those of us who have been angry at and critical of Southgate are the opposite of chastened and appeased. Despite noting the egg on our faces and the bare, extraordinary facts – and the undeniable decency of the man – we are unable to get with Gareth’s theory. (If there is one). The performance was yet again so dispiritingly one-paced and so dull that we dip into the weirdly abstract. How can we enjoy that stuff? In what way is this meant to lift or entertain us? (Even with that Late Drama it still registered as something closer to profound disappointment and embarrassment than to joy). Can’t we do better than this? With that fekkun line-up, surely we can do better than this?

I’m not sure that passage through trumps enjoyment, I’m really not. Friends and family have been saying since the first game that they don’t want England to go through playing like that. (Fact!) They’d rather someone else wins it, playing watchable or hopefully exciting football.

The Meedya barely registers this: as though *things really are* only about winning. There’s this assumption that fans only care about those bedpost notches – I assume because that plays in (or helpfully conforms to) the corporate/’Premier League’ mentality around buying into bigness. Sure we hear plenty loudmouthed donkeys on phone-ins adding fuel to that blinding fire: but I hear and I feel a whole lot more generosity from fans, than that. We care about levels of effort and commitment and heart and we value entertainment.

England are no doubt committed and no doubt they love their country – whatever that means. But there’s a heavy dollop of delusion in there, too. They probably do believe their dull pattern is ‘doing a decent job’. They probably think that ball retention is an end in itself, because ‘chances will come’. Bellingham probably did enjoy sticking it to all of us critics, by sticking that ball in the net. There probably is some truth in all of these views. Patience may be key, may be proven to be key. 2-1. Onward.

England may yet go on and win this tournament. But even if things change now, and they turn dramatically into a thrillingly inventive and creative side, fans local and distant will be underwhelmed. In one sense it’s already too late. There really is a Bigger Picture. We’ve seen a whole series of poor performances. Truly fine players have looked lost in a matrix of sluggishness. A team featuring Foden, Bellingham, Saka and Kane has offered almost no threat. That’s a disappointment: yes?

I’m with them.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

Honesty-box spoiler alert-thing. I chose not to watch the England game tonight because I’m in Wales… and I expected what happened to happen. A repeat of previous – quite a lot of previous, some might suggest. But rather than get tooo smug about that, I’m going to drop in a few more thoughts; about coaching; about football; about Southgate.

I get that some of you think that this manager has ‘done enough’, has been a notable, even demonstrable success and there is some truth in that. But – because life is complex and there are feelings and responsibilities in play here – it’s also in question.

I chose to coach cricket tonight. For all its faults and that whole icon of conservatism vibe, the ECB transformed coaching about twenty years ago, to put self-learning and ownership at the heart of player development. Coaches were to instruct a whole lot less and allow growth of the player through great questions and Core Principles (as opposed to demonstration and didacticism-by-rote). Skills and brains and leadership were to be developed in a player-centred, even personal kindofaway. This ownership model was thought to be akin to, or essential towards kinds of freedom as well as kinds of discipline and growth.

There may be a case that football has a generic problem with this – so not just Southgate and England, but almost everybody lacks the capacity to find a way, to change, to invent, because most of what they know is on a chart or an ipad. Players are fed – stuffed – with external prompts, with a matrix rammed with all the possibilities except the option to ‘go native’.

The All Blacks had leadership groups decades ago. They made Churchillian team-talks and constant, match-day interventions and instruction from the coaching team almost superfluous. The players could decide stuff: could transform. They were ready; they were equipped; they were autonomous from game plans – or could be.

It may not be quite as simple as football being twenty years behind other sports, coaching-wise but I am going to argue the combination of delusional self-importance, over-coaching and the lack of individual, in-the-moment decision-making and/or tactical adjustments in the allegedly beautiful game is a force – and not in a good way. There are too many coaching staff making too many ‘interventions’. Players are not empowered, encouraged or trusted to make changes: they may be unable to because of the forty-two voices in their ears offering vital stats or shapes or ‘reminders, mate’.

This is a generic problem, for England and for the world that used to be just footie. The culture of game-management runs so deep and is so heavily reinforced by staff during matches that a sort of lethargy sinks in. Nobody wants to play badly or slowly or without any wit… but it happens. The game becomes beige – partly, admittedly because character (often meaning spunk or feistiness or that historic surge towards the gladitorial) is cancelled-out. Cheating and faking or exaggeration is so-o utterly ubiquitous that you can’t challenge: you can’t out-battle or physically dominate. And the gaffer won’t let you really surge. So there are almost no characters – no personalities – because there can be no expression from the heart: only the head. Or from strategies learned.

I accept, of course that the protection now offered to skilful players is a significant positive, as is the notable improvement in comfort on the ball, especially amongst defenders. But we need a balance, yes, between ‘sophistication’ and the things that make us roar? It may be that we can’t legislate for that… so again coaching becomes key.

My trusted Football People shouted most of this from our Whatsapp group, but narrowed-in on Southgate. We’ve all thought he’s been unable to liberate a very good group of players, for years. Tonight he’ll be hurting. Some of that is about how the game’s gone. But he is culpable, as are the players, and many fear he lacks the charisma or wit (or possibly the desire?) to stir up the camp.

Lastly, another barb from somewhere obscure, perhaps. What about the fans? What about entertaining/thrilling/energising the moment for the supporters? They love England and they love football and they’ve shelled out a huge wedge to pile over there in their thousands. Is there no obligation *at all* to show them some urgency? We’re not talking about reckless storming – not yet – but against ordinary teams, when the universe is shrieking that this is boring and ineffectual, is there no awareness of any responsibility to ‘go after ’em?’ Probably not. Because of that aforementioned delusion and the inescapable drip-feed that is game-management. Players really may be too self-absorbed (or too lost) to break out. The manager is responsible for that environment of fear and smotheration.

Below is my ‘report’ from the Serbia game. Hearing it remains relevant.

We’re all over-dosing, I suspect. Cricket, football, golf. Rain, sun, wind. Sleep. Drink. Swear. Fail to make sense but shout, anyway.

Us Lads were shouting about England again, last night. (We do know actually know football so if any of your opinions clash with what follows, then walk away, tutting). Do that early doors – as soon as you feel Southgate’s been slandered or tournament football’s been underestimated. You’re wrong and we’re right.

Swung in classical, predictable anger and disappointment awaaay from The Footie and into The Golf, in the hope that McIlroy could claim some triumph for lusty redemption and alacrity but erm, t’was not to be. We found yet filthier despoilment of the universal good. The poor bastard, having played with sensational coolness and consistency, on a gruelling track, against the gorgeous prostitute that is DeChambeau, missed TWO PUTTS that Aunty Nellie would have knocked in on a municipal in Belfast. It was absolutely Peak Trauma: life-shrivelling stuff. It was even worse than watching England.

Let’s deal with Southgate. You newbies may not know that Yours F Truly (and everybody I know and trust to be a Proper Football Human) has been saying the same kinda stuff about him for years. Fabulous politician and integrator/appreciator. Genuinely good man, as much by learning as by origins – and this may be another significant compliment. Almost certainly a tory-lite, by nature, but now gets most of the Essential Truths around multiculturalism, value and representation. Has grown manfully and generously into what he understands to be a ludicrously *important* and high-profile role. But football-wise? Mediocre.

The Southgate-era ‘tournament success’ is both real and flimsy, in the sense that England have been ordinary in both recent events. (Yup, I mean that). Played relatively little exciting and/or entertaining football: instincts have been to revert to holding/deadening the game/’absorbing pressure’… often against manifestly poor teams. Despite ‘going through’, fine players have looked stilted; one-dimensional; often one-paced.

Can of worms opened; so let’s deal with certain issues arising.

Yes I know that tournaments are often won by teams who have been as dull as ditch-water for much of the campaign: and that the *actual quality* of football carries less meaning for some than the end result. Shame, but true. Typically, teams plan or engineer a way through, rather than looking to out-play or thrash the opposition; partly because allegedly ‘there are no easy games’. (There are no easy games if you choose to contain; or accept the cat-and-mousery. There are no easy games if you shackle your fliers’ instincts to fly, pass, surge). There is a level of over-thinking – and therefore caution – because for all the inane talk of ‘positivity’ coaches fear the expression of pace and invention and threat.

Southgate is not alone in being very conscious of the flow towards choreography, organisation, shape. But his England are often a poor watch (and a real disappointment, given the players available) because he leans so heavily into that culture of game-management. Plus his substitutions are generally poor. Plus, despite picking young players and/or being aware of form, the energy of his teams can be flat. He’s a likeable but dull man, both in terms of lacking spark and being relatively slow-witted. Some of that may be reflected…

The ‘possession football’ his team adopted after an encouraging start against Serbia was nearly as dispiriting as the 4-5-1 default as soon as their pallid efforts gifted the opposition the ball. They were slow, they were boring, they were easy to defend against because they chose, actually to offer no threat. Just a long-term erosion of their opponent’s will.

You may say that nobody chooses to offer no threat and nobody chooses to play boring football. But Southgate’s Posse do it a fair bit, in tournaments. Foden – Foden! – was painfully insipid last night; Kane an irrelevance. Saka looked ace for about fifteen minutes. Then Serbia – Serbia! – were allowed to build and make incursions into a defence that the universe knows ain’t England’s strength. A draw looked likely for much of the second half.

Players and fans know when they’ve been crap. You can’t build confidence – or o-kaaaay, you’re unlikely to build confidence and momentum – if you play crap. And England were crap, against a very ordinary side that they should have walloped, given their personnel and the start they made.

Every one of the Proper Football People I spoke to after the game knows what tournaments are. What risk is. What proportionality is. Every one said they don’t want England to win this championship playing ‘like that’ – meaning with caution and ‘pragmatism.’ They all suspect Southgate of having poor instincts, particularly with regard to getting the best out of attacking talent. I’m with them. This England looks beige again: lacking leadership, lacking spirit and energy. Plainly there is brilliance within. I hope they find it.

In Question.

~ bowlingatvincent ~ Leave a comment

It would be absurd, plainly, to suggest that there’s a significant mentality problem with the Lionesses: (duh, ‘they only went and won the cup’). But as a fan and follower it does feel like that, a little. Many of us, I think, slip into anger at the nervousness plaguing so many players and/or so many of the early minutes of a ‘typical’ England performance – or should that be non-performance. There are too many howlers.

Again, last night, Wiegman’s side under-achieved pretty extravagantly, being wasteful, slack, lacking purpose or focus. Bright was understandably (and I thought rightly) in there for her physicality and strength against strong and athletic players, but her first contribution was an embarrassment, and she – of all people – seemed to lack the gumption and the will to drive through the spreading nerves and get to her natural (if limited) game.

She was by no means the only one. If you were to drop into that cheap marks-out-of-ten thing, Bright might raise a 4, but who would be above 6, from last night? Williamson, certainly: she may have felt both angry and yes, embarrassed at the level of passing and control and execution around her. The skipper was the proverbial head and shoulders above her team-mates, being the only one playing genuinely heads-up football. (The other prime candidate, generally, would be Walsh, but she was another profound disappointment, disappearing back into the dullness of the most unproductive of water-carrying roles: everything square or ‘safe’; keep-ball but no product. Worse, it often felt that wasn’t making angles to receive passes – so being relatively unavailable, as well as unthreatening).

Russo was wonderfully game and mobile, as always, at least offering some confidence and that potential for linking play. But her ‘killer’ passes or strikes at goal were notably feeble, sadly. Mead and Hemp are excellent players, but their propensity for early nerves and subsequent, intermittent failure to execute even simple passes or heavily rehearsed moves appears reinforced. Stanway had a poor game, Toone was anonymous and despite the additional presence of Bright, the defence again looked vulnerable – again, particularly in central areas.

I get that they were playing France, one of the best sides in the world. But patently England are one of the best sides in the world; they just haven’t played like it, for a year or more.

So we have to question Wiegman as well her players. Job numero uno for any coach of any team is to breed a confident environment: get players happy and able to express. (I’m not thinking we’re seeing that – you? No). We’re dealing with abstracts and moods and personal/psychological stuff, here, so let’s not pretend that this is simple… or entirely manageable, even. And yet it’s still the first box that a manager or coach has to tick. And that manager or coach will be judged, forensically or through anger and disappointment, on the quality and fluency of their side *through his prism*. Are players are giving a fair account of themselves? Or is lack of something – let’s call it confidence – undermining what they do?

If we zoom in then tactical matters and matters of pattern or playing style reveal themselves. But that prior and wider view is a) often more honest – in the sense that it’s more widely felt and understood – and b) it’s hard to shake.

The team humour resonates with fans; they share the nervousness and actually share it around; in the stadium. In this weather-vane ethersphere, the Lionesses are currently mid relative-trough; starting badly and getting caught in cruel, infectious, debilitating cycles of mis-step and angst. Small breakouts into almost-football but then another unforced error. It’s horrible to watch. Coaches have to stem this by either re-invigorating confidences, or doing the shouty-sweary stuff, to get people focused – to get them ‘doing their f*cking jobs’.

Stanway’s job is to cover the ground and make passes. Toone similar – although she darts more and gets into scoring positions more. But she, too, is not making the passes. Bronze may be and may think she is a worldie beyond criticism. But her defending is slack, and given those talents and that force, she’s nowhere near to maxxing-out her influence.

Wiegman is entitled to be thinking about the unthinkable: switching Carter to right back, bringing the left-sided (and tough, and strongish dead-ball merchant, and pinger of decent passes) Greenwood back in – let’s face it, she should have played last night – and either dropping Bronze or pushing her forward. The midfield needs a re-fresh and England’s strongest defensive line-up might be Earps / Carter / Bright / Williamson / Greenwood. (Morgan looks a player but is maaybee too like Williamson: Bright is on a warning but she was the best player at the Euro’s and she does offer old-school defensive virtues, plus a threat from set-pieces – or should). Bronze, such is the scope of her game and her dynamism, could displace any of the three current midfielders and probably bring greater consistency and penetration. (Not saying this happens, but the prevailing out-of-sorts-ness needs a remedy).

We/you/I could write a book about Earps: possibly even about her first contact with the action, last night. Was she already crocked – or how much was she already crocked? She just got in a slightly ungainly position to strike the ball, left-footed, then ouch. Something popped or cracked a little, without any clogging from an onrushing striker. We may never know whether Ar Mary – whom we genuinely love, for her Proper Football Passion – has been a wee bit selfish, in hiding or minimising an injury, so as to stay in the side. (We’ve all done it, yes?)

That story may be a thing of beauty and intrigue… or relative ugliness and deceit. Her switch for the impressively calm-looking Hampton was not what any side would want. But did it reduce the effectiveness or flow of the Lionesses? No. They were bitty and sometimes raw bad in any case. Their prospects for qualification look ‘in question’. Wiegman has work to do.