Posted by James T on February 8th, 2010 | 9 comments
In the spirit of Mark Wilson’s superb self-destructive strike against Manchester United this weekend, I thought I’d root out four other own goals that had artistry, skill, and great finishing… except they were scored at the wrong end. These goals remind us that any goal is tough to score, even at your own end, and these defenders can console themselves with the knowledge that should they ever find themselves in a proper goal-scoring position, they are more than capable of taking advantage.
After the jump, four especially skillful examples of turning it into your own net.
[Ed. Note - I realize most of these are English, but hey, add any good ones I missed in the comments] READ MORE
Posted by James T on January 4th, 2010 | 1 comment
A Portrait of James T, circa late 2009
I realize this should have been posted at the end of 2009, but what are you gonna do?
As much wonder as we’ve experienced in the soccer world this decade — from transcendent players to breathtaking teams to memorable tournaments — there has been a steady stream of ugliness to go with it. We accept that, and we must move on, but not without paying homage to some of the unseemly things foisted upon us, the fans, in the first decade of the “noughties”.
Posted by James T on September 30th, 2009 | 10 comments
Image from The Offside - AC Milan
So the logic goes, goals bring in fans but defenses win championships.
Soccer is no different; even with the fearsome strike corps United had last season in Ronaldo/Rooney/Tevez/Berbatov (alright, so strike the last one), it was that backline that did the real heavy lifting. Something about 11,485 clean sheets in a row or something.
Well today, we salute a quartet of quartets that did nothing but strike fear into their opponents, stopping them strike in the process.
Note: I kept out international teams simply because of their obvious advantage over club teams: the ability to cull players from anywhere and everywhere. And so, France’s 1998 backline, Greece’s 2004 effort and West Germany’s defense of the early 1970s are nowhere to be found. Also, the list is rather England-centric, but that’s my prerogative.READ MORE
For all the individual skill and class on display in soccer, we are frequently reminded that ultimately, it’s still a team game, requiring maximum effort from the full XI in order to achieve the desired result. Single players will rise above the white noise to turn in a remarkable day’s work, as is their wont, and yet, not all of them get to enjoy the win or lift the trophy.
Today, a firm salute to a quartet who did everything they possibly could to win, only to fall short. 1. Kaka – AC Milan, Champions League Final 2004/05
For 45 minutes, the Brazilian libero reigned supreme, casting a spell over the crowd at Istanbul and perplexing the eleven Reds selected to halt his charge. Leading up to the game, the seemingly lop-sided nature of the fixture was analyzed ad nauseam, and nine pundits out of ten singled out Kaka as being the man to watch and the man to beat.
In the first half, he was untouchable, running rings around the Liverpool midfield. Steven Gerrard, the man chosen to smother him for 90 minutes, was left for dead.
Months after the game, Gerrard recalled his experience:
“Kaka was a great player, I knew that. Anyone who starts for Brazil must be special. But not until I spent that half, running around after him, chasing his shadow, did I appreciate how quick he was in possession. Never in my career had I encountered anyone as fast with the ball at their feet. Kaka was lightning.”
Anyone with a pair of eyes could confirm as much. After Maldini’s early strike, Kaka took over, setting up Crespo’s brace with a pair of devastating passes; the first, a delicate, cushioned chip to release Shevchenko (who in turn found Crespo with ease on the pullback), while the second was even better. Receiving the ball deep in his half, Kaka shrugged off Gerrard’s advance and spun clear, threading the ball through two Liverpool defenders for Crespo to tap in.
The margin of error was minuscule; on second view, Carragher’s despairing lunge comes within millimeters of deflecting the pass off-course. Kaka’s passing accuracy was unparalleled.
Even after Liverpool’s legendary comeback midway through the second half, Kaka wasn’t done. It took another Carragher lunge to pick the ball off his feet when a goal appeared likely with 10 minutes to go. In the 88th, he came within inches of diverting a Jaap Stam header into the net, but it wasn’t to be.
He even coolly converted his penalty during the shoot-out, but the combination of Liverpool magic and Andrei Shevchenko’s stunning profligacy in front of goal, even more remarkable for his stature as THE best striker in the world that year, meant that the baby-faced Brazilian would get nothing more than a runners-up medal.
2. Michael Owen – England, 2nd Round v. Argentina, World Cup 1998
In just his 9th game for the national team, Michael Owen was unconcerned with the decades-old rivalry between the two nations. He could barely remember the Hand of God, and on his display over 120 gutbusting minutes, he showed that he didn’t much care.
Liverpool fans knew what the youngster was capable of, but it was the world’s turn to have a look. Within just the first 16 minutes, he’d made mincemeat of the resolute Argentine backline. In the 10th, Owen earned a dubious penalty having spun Roberto Ayala more times than a pig on a spit. Shearer duly converted, but 6 minutes later, it was all down to the pint-sized striker from Bootle.
Beckham’s long, hopeful pass from midfield sprung the greyhound from his trap, and from there, it took 10 seconds to play out: ghosting past Jose Chamot, feinting inside a dumbstruck Ayala (not his best game in blue and white, obviously), before cutting the ball back to his right foot and uncorking a wicked, rasping shot past a helpless Carlos Roa.
With the game locked at 2-2 in the second half, Owen would have several more chances to etch his name in English lore, blazing a shot just over the bar deep into extra time. Inevitably, as all England games in World Cups do, it was settled on penalties, and while all around his teammates were missing theirs, Owen showed no nerves for an 18 year old, blasting it into the roof of the net.
That day, there was little more Owen could have done; as the world remembers, it was Beckham’s dismissal for a petulant retaliatory kick on Argie captain Diego Simeone that cost them the game.
Looking at the crocked mess that Michael Owen has become in the decade since, it’s so tempting to imagine what could have been.
3. Ian Wright – Crystal Palace v. Manchester United, 1990 FA Cup Final
At the turn of the 90s, United were slowly becoming the juggernaut they are today. It wasn’t an easy development; their progress through the FA Cup was a rollercoaster; a trio of 1-0 wins over Hereford United, Nottingham Forest and Sheffield United, a 3-2 away win over Newcastle at St. James’s Park, and a 6-goal thriller semi-final with Oldham that needed a replay to settle the score.
The final would be no different, thanks to their plucky, tenacious opponents.
Crystal Palace, fresh up from the then-Second Division, had endured a difficult season themselves; an early 9-0 thrashing at Anfield set the tone for their struggles. They finished 15th, but not before becoming the first club to pay a million pounds for a goalkeeper, the soon-to-be chubby legend Nigel Martyn.
In the semis, Palace got revenge against Liverpool on a neutral field, beating them 4-3 at Villa Park, setting the stage for a memorable Wembley day out against the men from Manchester.
The game turned out like both their semi-finals; ex-Spurs defender Gary O’Reilly nodded in a free kick within the first 20 minutes, his effort cancelled out 10 minutes from half-time by a header from Bryan Robson, United’s midfield metronome.
Both sides came close to blowing the game open in the second half, but United took the lead on the hour mark with permed Welshman Mark Hughes’ low finish from Neil Webb’s right-wing cross. Needing some inspiration with 20 minutes left, Palace turned to the bench and summoned Ian Wright, their ace up the sleeve. Wright was sublime for Palace over 5 seasons, scoring 89 in 225 games (he’d score 185 in 279 for his next club, Arsenal), but his 1989/90 season was derailed midway through by a twice-cracked shin bone.
Having barely recovered from the injury to make the subs list for the Final, manager Steve Coppell brought him into the fray and was immediately vindicated; he was on the pitch less than 4 minutes before he found space between Phelan and Bruce to latch onto the ball, turn Bruce inside out and knock him over before finishing low underneath the keeper for a gorgeous solo goal.
Wright’s second goal came within seconds of the beginning of extra-time, showcasing his opportunism in and around the 6-yard box. John Salako’s deep floated cross from the left froze the keeper, allowing Wright to ghost in at the far post with a sliding volley that nearly broke the net.
United would equalize via their own talisman, Hughes, and in the land before penalty shoot-outs, United won the replay 1-0 five days later.
Wright was still too fragile to start the replay, and Coppell hauled him on midway through the second half hoping for similar heroics right after United’s goal. Alas, it was not to be, and Sir Alex Ferguson hoisted a trophy that many say preserved his job at Old Trafford. Imagine what could have been had Wright and Palace turned it around.
It was the closest that Palace had come to an FA Cup win since reaching the semi-finals in 1976; despite Wright’s superhuman efforts, they would not end the season “Glad All Over.”
4. Gerd Muller – West Germany v. Italy, 1970 World Cup
It’s so hard to feel sympathetic for a German player, and not just any German, but their most celebrated, prolific striker of the last 50 years. Muller was a born scorer, his instincts better and sharper than any hoof-footed defender of the era.
In the “Game of the Century”, the two defenses showed little regard for fortitude, resulting in a five-goal extra time that left the 100,000+ crowd in Estadio Azteca gasping for air. Never mind the altitude and searing heat; it was the pinball nature of the scoring that knocked the wind from their sails.
Muller, to his credit, did all he was there to do: put the ball in the goal, lather, rinse, repeat. The extra time wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for that most German of occurrences, the injury-time equalizer (see: 1966 for more evidence). Up to that point, the Italians had been cruising, but Karl-Heinz Schnellinger’s awkward-looking goal (did he mean to head it? did he slip and sidefoot by accident?) gave us the extra half-hour. And, as the cliche goes, what a half-hour it would turn out to be.
They were ugly goals — the first, a scramble over Enrico Albertosi as he failed to smother a corner, the second a header from 5 yards as the defense froze — but they kept the Germans and their wounded hero, Franz Beckenbauer (playing with a fractured shoulder in a sling), in the hunt until Gianni Rivera’s fine winner in the 111th minute.
Their contributions to this epic contest are forever recorded in history, as is their defeat. Muller’s performance should never have been allowed to occur, but that’s what makes it so great; given the opportunity, he pounced like he did his entire career (to the tune of 489 goals in 565 club games, 68 in 62 for West Germany).
Running the midfield can be a difficult proposition. The proliferation of the 4-5-1 has choked some of the spontaneity from deep-lying midfielders, forcing managers to adopt a more strategic “horses for courses” approach (pick 4 or 5 across the middle, each with a specific role), but today in Gang of Four, we’re throwing back to a day when the area between the 18-yard-boxes was a virtual playground for those blessed with enough preternatural talent to take advantage.
Before the days of the defensive midfielder, the playmaking maestro was king. We salute four such gods of the midfield who had it all: precision long-range passing, skill enough on the ball to dribble holes in defenses, toughness to ride through the tackle, spontaneity, and goalscoring power. Gheorghe Hagi (1982-2001) “You seem to be considered good only if you can run fast, or are physically strong. What about individual skills?”
The unfairly-dubbed “Maradona of the Carpathians” put his stamp on football during USA ‘94, a lukewarm tournament that cried out for the creativity of the Zen Ponytail, Roberto Baggio, and the kinetic energy of the tiny Romanian. I say unfair because although comparison to Maradona is a dream for most players, little Gheorghe deserved to be recognized on the strength of his own achievements. I dare say in some little nook of Eastern Europe, the next Hagi undoubtedly lurks (had he not already retired, I’d put Greece’s Euro ‘04 wizard Theodoros Zagorakis in the Hagi category).
He was pure soccer talent stuffed into a tiny 5′8″ frame, feet capped with size five boots, and capable of beating you with speed or strength. Broad and immune to the then-legal tackle from behind (the best ace up any mediocre defender’s sleeve, intimidation via the cheap shot), Hagi’s career can be viewed in three phases: 9 years of quiet accomplishment in Romania, a vault to Real Madrid and Barca (with tiny Serie A side Brescia in between), and then late success in Turkey.
Like a great artist, he went through periods of beauty and depression (the latter coming in arguably his biggest exposure to the spotlight: 2 seasons at Real Madrid in the early 90s, and 2 seasons at Barcelona after USA ‘94), coming up biggest on the big stage.
For all his individual skill with both feet, he was also the consummate team player, continually shepherding his teammates to dizzying heights previously thought unimaginable. Heck, his skill in finagling Romania, by all accounts a limited squad, to the quarter-finals in 1994 says it all.
Ex-French international Luis Fernandez once said that “Hagi is like wine, the older it gets, the better it is,” and he was spot-on; after struggling in La Liga with the Big 2, Hagi decamped for Galatasaray, where he won just about everything there was to win. 4 straight Turkish Super League titles, 2 Turkish Cups, the UEFA Cup (running over the favoured Arsenal in the process) before capping his final domestic season with a UEFA Super Cup triumph over former club Real Madrid.
Antonin Panenka (1967-1982) “My credo and belief has always been to entertain the spectators. First of all, I had to enjoy myself and like the football that I was playing, but I also wanted to give fans who are working all week something that would please them when they came to watch on Sunday, which they would talk about all day in the pubs afterwards.”
The mid-70s gave us one of the best tournaments ever in Euro ‘76, with the excitement provded by the four teams that took part. Holland, West Germany, Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia played four glorious games, complete with drama, comebacks, penalties, beautiful goals, and pure attacking football.
Emerging from the dust unscathed were the Czechs, thanks in large part to their insouciant, moustached midfielder who birthed the cheekiest penalty trick the world has ever seen.
Antonin Panenka was, as dubbed by the French press, “a poet”, blessed with otherworldly vision and a passing accuracy that has rarely been replicated since. 15 years of toil in the Austrian leagues may have consigned him to the fringes of Greatest Player discussions, but Euro ‘76 gave him the perfect platform with which to present his resume.
It’s that penalty; not only was it a perfectly-executed statement of intent, but it was done in the high-pressure situation of the PK shootout after a blood, sweat and tears final with the West Germans, who reckoned they’d struck a crucial psychic blow with their 89th minute equalizer. And now, with Panenka ready to strike, knowing that his kick would decide the affair, he dragged his feet long enough to watch Sepp Maier commit to diving left before gracefully clipping the ball softly down the middle, leaving Maier a powerless spectator from the floor.
Pele reckoned him to be “a genius or a madman”, and few can argue. Equally deadly from the free-kick, Panenka let his passing and shooting do the talking, although for most, it all comes back to that penalty, and the legions of players who’ve attempted it since.
John Barnes (1981-2000) “Barnes did what we expected him to do. He made a goal, scored one, and entertained. You remember that.” – Kenny Dalglish after Barnes’ Anfield debut for Liverpool in 1987
Barnes was a big man. Not orca fat or anything, but considering the svelte, skinny masses that surrounded him on every team for which he played, his skill and grace are even more astounding.
The Jamaican-born Watford and Liverpool midfielder/left winger was a master of his domain, the man so good that as manager, Kenny Dalglish bought him THREE times (once for Liverpool, then for Newcastle, then for Celtic in the twilight of his career). Never one to take too many touches or strides, he conserved his limited energies for when they were needed most. Blessed with an unlikely change of pace for such a giant, “Digger” Barnes was the driving force behind Liverpool’s great run in the 80s/90s, winning 2 FA Cups, 2 League Titles (including Liverpool’s last in 1989/90), and a few Charity Shields for good measure.
As provider for Peter Beardsley, John Aldridge and Ian Rush, (Barnes was one of the game’s best crossers), Liverpool were unstoppable; to put it in context, Barnes managed 22 goals from the left wing in that league winning 89/90 season, while Ian Rush, far and away the more prolific goalscorer, could only manage 18 up front.
He also played the game with a heavy dose of fun and enjoyment, which wasn’t exactly easy back in the mid 80s; moving to Liverpool brought the ire of the far right, who showered him with racist taunts at every opportunity. In 1987, a game against Everton at Goodison Park brought out the anger in the home fans, and there exists an iconic shot of him casually backheeling a banana off the pitch. Never one to get caught up in the politics surrounding the game, Barnes used football to silence his most xenophobic critics.
And then there’s that goal at the Maracana in 1984, against a backdrop of abuse from the National Front who felt he had no place on the team. It was Maradona’s goal in ‘86 before Maradona got started, a mazy run through the heart of the Brazilian team, untouched en route to goal.
That was the magic of John Barnes. Every time the ball was at his feet, you knew such miracles were possible.
Michel Platini (1972-1987) “When I was a kid and played with my friends, I always chose to be Platini. I let my friends share the names of my other idols between themselves.” – Zinedine Zidane
As batshit insane as the Frenchman is in his role as President of UEFA, we must give the man immense credit for his bewitching beauty during his playing days. At the core of France’s “carre magique” of the 80s and the Juventus midfield that dominated Europe, Platini was the ultimate #10 when numbers on shirts still carried that weighty significance.
Platini could do it all with both feet. He was goalscorer, orchestrator, dead-ball specialist and peerless midfield general, reading the game with such clarity and foresight that one could be forgiven for thinking he’d already played the game in the future before zipping back to run through it step-by-step as it happened the first time around.
With a strikerate well above scoring every other game (312 in 580 for clubs AS Nancy, St Etienne, Juventus, and for France), Platini was god’s gift to the attacking midfield. Laboring through 3 World Cups, including that 3-3 game with West Germany (he was instrumental throughout; though the Germans won on penalties, he still considers it the best game of his career), as well as a victory in Euro ‘84, scoring 9 of France’s 14 goals in just five matches. That tournament on home soil was a perfect distillation of his brilliance; scoring two “perfect” hat-tricks (header, goal with left foot, goal with right foot) along the way.
Posted by James T on April 24th, 2009 | 13 comments
One more this week to get some momentum, then we’re running it weekly on Fridays.
Being a defensive midfielder is a relatively new profession. As tactics guru Jonathan Wilson recently noted in The Guardian, the game used to hum and revolve around the box-to-box midfielder, a wonderfully classic and outdated calling. The very nature of the traditional, square 4-4-2 meant that whoever was filling the middle needed to be capable of moving forward and tracking back. If the player failed to perform both duties in equal measure, the void between defense and midfield was obvious and fairly easy to exploit.
Manchester United had a golden pair in Paul Ince and Roy Keane, a duo that were more than able to tear limb-from-limb in defense before hauling themselves up from the turf to join the attack and bang in goals from long range.
Now, as the demands of the beautiful game have evolved, the CDM is suddenly paramount, and the days of the flat midfield are well and truly over.
If you don’t have a solid, reliable defensive midfielder, you’re not going to win much. It’s that simple.
The best recent example is Tottenham Hotspur. In the first half of the season, the midfield was hopeless, failing to provide tenacity in the tackle nor much energy for invention in attack. The rigor and the pace of the EPL proved to wear them down, as neither Jermaine Jenas nor Luka Modric were suited to perfecting both roles.
Along came January signing Wilson Palacios from Wigan, and the whole dynamic changed; chaos was replaced with balance, and Modric was able to concentrate on his natural attacking role knowing that he had ferocity in Palacios to cover behind him.
The CDM is the silent, consistent bedrock of any half-decent team, and after the jump, we look at four of the best.
1. Fernando Redondo, Real Madrid 1994-2000
Before Javier Mascherano hit the scene, another Argie ruled the roost in front of the back four. Fernando “El Flaco” Redondo (or the White Machine) played unfussy football, controlling games from defensive midfield with his accurate passing and persistence in pursuit of possession.
Hard-working and vastly underrated on a team that enjoyed attacking stars in spades–teammates at Real over the years include Eastern European scorers Davor Suker and Predrag Mijatovic, Spanish legends Fernando Morientes and Raul, Nicolas Anelka, McManaman, and Roberto Carlos–Redondo was, in no uncertain terms, the straw that stirred the drink.
Metronomic from the back, his ability to read the game and dictate the tempo were vital to a Real side that won La Liga and the Champions League twice during his tenure at the club. It was during that 1999/2000 CL run that he turned in one of the best single-game performances ever seen, flummoxing Roy Keane and Manchester United at Old Trafford in a 3-2 victory.
Ironically, he played further forward than normal during that game, and showed no signs of being unable to adjust. Besides running rings around Keane, Henning Berg and a still-maturing Paul Scholes, there was that assist, the backheel flick to himself through Berg’s legs before squaring for Raul to tap-in to an empty net, brilliantly described by Rob Smyth as “the champagne moment” and as having “the devasting finality of a perfect conversational putdown.”
They won the CL at a canter after that.
Redondo, being South American, was blessed with more grace and ball skill than his successors, and looking at the current midfield balance of the pugnacious Mascherano and the dynamic Fernando Gago, it’s safe to say that El Flaco is the perfect amalgam of both; comfortable in that defensive nest, he could kill you with the pass, or, if you dared drop the shoulder and lean in, beat you on the dribble too.
When he departed for AC Milan, he suffered a nasty knee injury and barely featured for the club (just 16 appearances in 4 years), and selflessly returned much of his signing bonus and wages due to not being able to play. Imagine Anelka pulling that one. As such, with those ailments closing his career prematurely, Redondo never quite achieved over his full career what he managed during his tenure at Real.
Watch his calm demeanor in possession, no matter how many opponents lay in front of him. Skilled off both feet, he could find any teammate on the move. An errant pass from El Flaco was inconceivable. Redondo had incredible balance on the ball, and scored several important goals that were merely a bonus atop his other attributes (he tallied just 12 goals in 358 career appearances; 4 in 165 for Real).
The ultras rioted when he was sold to Italy, knowing the full extent of their club’s loss. Watching these videos, I know exactly how they feel.
2. Claude Makelele, Chelsea 2003-2008
Poor Real Madrid. They’d already seen the best CDM in Redondo thrive and then leave, and his successor at the club, Claude Makelele, soon followed suit, lured to the lucre of the English Premier League where he’d turn in a phenomenal body of work.
When you consider the greatness of Frank Lampard, you must give plenty of credit to pint-sized Claude who tidied up every midfield scramble without complaint and provided the platform for the Blues’ impressive lightning-quick accumulation of silverware.
With Makelele doing the dirty work behind Lampard, Robben and Joe Cole, Chelsea were unstoppable, doing the EPL/Carling Cup double in 2004/2005 and retaining the EPL trophy the following season. Mourinho declared him Chelsea’s Player of the Year.
Chelsea are lucky he even ended up there; his crime in Spain was asking for an improved contract, which, in context, is understandable. Team President Florentino Perez was unashamedly assembling Los Galacticos, paying over top dollar for every star he could get his hands on: Figo, Ronaldo (back from the dead!), Roberto Carlos, Guti, Michael Owen, Zidane, and, the straw that broke the camel’s back, David Beckham.
Upset at the rejection of his request, he handed in his transfer papers and Chelsea nabbed him for 16.8 million pounds, an absolute bargain. While Perez mocked Claude, calling him “average” and reckoning that “younger players will cause Makelele to be forgotten”, his Real teammates knew it was a different story.
Zidane’s quote went to the heart of the matter: “Why put another layer of gold paint on the Bentley when you are losing the entire engine?”
His stamp on the game was so emphatic that the CDM position is informally named after him. Essien is the latest Blue to “do a Makelele”, and there will be countless more to follow.
In the end, leave it to the notoriously elusive man himself to summize his contributions in defensive midfield:
“I really learnt how to play that role at Real Madrid where, if we were losing 1-0, we would say ‘Right, lock up shop’. The four at the back and the one in front of them – me – would concentrate only on defence and let the others go and do what they had to up front. They would take the risks, I would take care of the opposition’s attacks.
“In every team you need to know what your role is and one of the keys to my role is to keep the balance of the team right. So when Didier [Drogba] goes here, I do this. When Frank [Lampard] goes there, I go there. Same with Michael [Ballack]. When one person moves out of position, then someone else comes in and covers for them.
“When you play in my position you have to enjoy it. You can’t be thinking ‘Oh fucking hell, I don’t get any goals’. You just enjoy it, you enjoy playing football, tackling, giving the ball. Just enjoy it. When you are small you have to tackle at the right moment. He might be tall, he might be strong but if you tackle at the right moment you’ll win it. It’s about timing.”
3. Clodoaldo, Brazil 1970 World Cup
Considering that the CDM really didn’t exist back then, this one is a bit of a stretch, but bear with me! Looking at the Brazilian midfield that year, hands-down the best WC team ever assembled, you’d be hard-pressed to find a matador amid the bulls. Pele in his twilight, Tostao, Jairzinho, Gerson and Rivelino all chomping at the bit to get forward, and Carlos Alberto surveying the fun from defense.
The cushion between Pele and Alberto was Clodoaldo, the agile, versatile holding midfielder known as “the Clove of Garlic” for his incredible skill on the ball (the idea being that opponents simply couldn’t get close enough to him to dispossess, as if he reeked of that pungent bulb).
While strictly you’d consider him a playmaker, I’d liken him to the CDM before such a thing even existed; with Brazil attacking in fives and sixes, someone needed to hold the fort, and while his gifts on the ball were most praised, his gifts in the tackle were just as vital.
4. Gennaro Gattuso, AC Milan 1999-
The Rossonieri’s very own red-and-black bulldog, Gattuso’s achievements in defensive midfield are hard to ignore. One Serie A title in 2002/03, two Champions League winners’ medals (and a runner-up finish in 04/05), a couple of domestic cups and of course, that World Cup trophy in 2006 that owed as much to him as it did his flashier, more refined compatriot (and AC Milan teammate) Andrea Pirlo.
While the world stood on in awe of Pirlo’s virtuosity in attack, it was Gattuso’s lung-bursting workrate that sustained the nation’s success. Never shirking a tackle or a confrontation, he was Milan’s Roy Keane, an emotional firebrand that came with a dangerously short fuse. Known as “Ringhio” or “The Growler”, Gattuso’s unedited intensity fueled the team around him.
Afraid of no confrontation or opponent (infamously, the in-your-face display toward Schalke’s CDM Christian Poulsen — seen in the video around 1:50 — and the open-hand slap to Zlatan Ibrahimovic’s face in a 2005 CL game against Ajax — seen around 2:40), Gattuso threw himself into every tackle like it was the difference between winning and losing.
The necessity for a Gattuso, crafted in the mold of old-fashioned Italianbruisers like Claudio Gentile and Giacinto Facchetti, is essential in the modern game. As protectorate of his side’s more delicate attacking resources, his presence in defensive midfield is not one to be viewed lightly.
Posted by James T on April 23rd, 2009 | 12 comments
A new semi-regular feature gets its debut today on UF, with some memories of four great seasons by four great players.
1. Ronaldo – Barcelona, 1996/97
Though we have plenty of evidence as to how great the now-fat and hobbled Brazilian was, one season in particular stands out above the rest. Having racked up 55 goals in 57 appearances for PSV over two seasons, his quality was undeniable, but a summer transfer to La Liga, several notches above the Eredivisie in difficulty and quality, would provide indisputable proof.
In just one season for the Catalans, Ronaldo scored 47 in 49 games across all competitions, including the winner from the penalty spot in the Cup Winners’ Cup Final against Paris Saint-Germain.
The fit at Barca was perfect; with a bullish midfield of Guardiola, de la Pena, Luis Enrique and Gheorghe Popescu that excelled at relieving the opposition of possession, Ronaldo was supported up front by Luis Figo, another elegant yet predatory forward whose passing provided much of the Brazilian’s bounty.
Though the team fell short of La Liga glory by a mere 2 points to Real Madrid (a team blessed with 24-goal Davor Suker and 21-goal Raul), the Catalans completed a memorable treble, lifting the CWC, the Copa Del Rey, and the Spanish Super Cup thanks to Ronaldo’s brilliance.
Watching highlights of his antics that season (Part 1 above, Part 2 here), you see what could have been if he didn’t suffer several injury setbacks (between 1999 and 2002, he played just 17 games). Bobby Robson, the Barca manager that year (and England boss before that), had the same view: “if he managed to stay free of serious injury, he had every chance of becoming the best footballer ever. And I stand by that.”
There are goals to satisfy every sensibility; mazy, Maradona-esque dribbles through a throng of defenders tackling the air, thunderous long-range efforts from all angles, straight sprints to goal finished with a playful tap-in… he was, and still might be, the ultimate human highlight reel.
Of course, Ronaldo is one of the greats simply because he managed to be the world’s best in two different eras; once at full health with his lightning speed intact, and again in 2002 without it. Still, for my money, it doesn’t get much better than that 1996/97 season. Take 20 minutes to watch his whole oeuvre that season, and I’m sure you’ll agree.
If you’re still not convinced, watch the goal beginning at 2:11, the one that against Compostela that was replayed everywhere from CNN to Sky Sports. Is there a single opposition player he doesn’t beat with the ball at his feet? Robson’s stunned expression at the end of it, hands on head and eyes wide, confirms Ronaldo’s majesty.
2. Cristiano Ronaldo – Manchester United, 2007/08
I know, I know, I know; he’s the worst thing in football. I know he’s insufferable, I know he’s loathed for his swagger and his swollen trophy cabinet. I also know how much I personally hate him for everything he’s done to keep United on top.
And yet, from a neutral perspective, it’s nigh-on impossible to look at the Portuguese winger’s season in ‘07 and not be amazed. 42 goals in 49 games from the wing, where pace and crossing are paramount, the versatile attacker shrugged off the criticism and the hate to lead United to the EPL/CL double, scoring in just about every way imaginable.
It didn’t matter what approach defenders took to gameplan against him. Isolating him on the wing never worked because of his ball skill with both feet. Fouling him, or any other United attacker, was a mistake because of his mastery from the set-piece. For every action against him, he had an answer.
Having shown his promise in previous years, 2007/08 was when everything finally clicked and rightly so, he cleaned up just about every award there was for an individual to win; all the PFA awards, selection to the UEFA Team of the Year, the FIFPro World XI, Merit Awards, the EPL Player of the Season, the EPL Golden Boot, FIFPro World Player of the Year, the Ballon D’Or, UEFA Club Footballer of the Year, and many more.
Not bad for a guy who didn’t score his first league goal of the season until September 29th.
It is a prolific haul that illustrates just what a dilemma awaits Ferguson in the off-season; to sell his arrogance for a pretty price while losing the on-pitch performance, or swallow his pride in order to retain his services. Not an easy choice, by any means.
3. Michael Ballack – Bayer Leverkusen, 2001/02
This one comes with a monumental caveat: Bayer finished runner-up in all 3 competitions that they dominated that season, suggesting that the scope of Ballack’s influence wasn’t nearly as profound as it actually was. However, that couldn’t be further from the truth (though Ballack did contribute to their Bundesliga failure on the last day, scoring an OG in a 2-0 loss where a draw would have given them the trophy). Without Ballack’s contributions, they wouldn’t have come close to winning anything.
Ballack, another player on this list who has suffered with the injury bug, put together his finest season once he was finally allowed to play the role he was born to play. Having shown flashes of his mercurial ways at Kaiserslautern, Ballack was let loose in attacking midfield, where he’d score 25 goals.
Freed of his defensive responsibilities thanks to the ankle-biting tandem of Bernd Schneider and Carsten Ramelow, Ballack thrived in supporting Oliver Neuville’s ponderous efforts in front of him.
Ballack doubled the scoring output of anyone else in the squad, single-handedly dragging his team through the Champions League where they ran out of steam against Real Madrid (after all, who could compete against Figo, Zidane, Raul and Morientes, with Makelele nuking any attack that came near the 18-yard-box?). Oh, and Zidane’s wonder goal that killed off the tie.
The quarter-final, 2nd leg at home to Liverpool was the pick of his performances that year; with a 2-1 lead midway through the 2nd half, the Reds missed several glorious chances to put the game out of reach before being overwhelmed by Ballack’s constant menace moving forward. Leverkusen ran out 4-2 winners. Liverpool had no answer for his physicality and persistence, but they weren’t alone that season.
4. Alan Shearer – Blackburn Rovers, 1994/95
While the biggest talking point that season remains Eric Cantona’s kung-fu kick into the crowd during an FA Cup game at Crystal Palace, it’s hard to overlook the season’s 2nd biggest story: the millions of Blackburn lad and steel magnate Jack Walker helping the local team usurp league holders Manchester United on the final day of the season.
The feat, herculean in context, could have only been possible with Alan Shearer tapping in goals from all angles against any and all competition. (If you want to be cynical, it could only have been possible first with Walker’s millions.)
In 1991, Rovers were in the 2nd Division, forever admiring the top flight like a kid stood in the cold looking at toys in a store window, nose pressed against the glass in awe of what was contained within. With Walker’s finances, the club spent at a Chelsea-esque rate a full decade before anyone in the soccer world even knew who Roman Abramovich was, buying goalie Tim Flowers for a then-record 2 million pounds, and then smashing their own feat with a 3.3 million pound purchase of Shearer.
In a 4-4-2 with Chris Sutton as his wingman, he was unstoppable, scoring 34 of the duo’s 49 goals in the league and despite losing twice in contentious circumstances to United that year, they prevailed.
Easily one of the greats within the 6-yard-box, the comparisons with Gary Lineker, another close-range predator, were completely justified. He appeared to possess a singular skill set on the pitch; lurking around the box for 90 minutes, he put the fear of God into some of England’s best defenders of the era, an impossible force to stop.
Make no mistake that Blackburn were the first real “money-built” team of the 90s; yet Shearer, with his personality and character firmly rooted in the working class, made it rather easy to forget.
