Post by QPR Report on Dec 20, 2008 9:11:02 GMT
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Hits home for supporters of a club whose greatest player of all time iis either Stan Bowles or Rodney Marsh
David Lacey/The Guardian
Disappearing act by magicians like Zola leaves the game all the poorer. In an age of speed and athleticism the Premier League needs inspirational players like Gianfranco Zola
A conjuror turned up at Stamford Bridge last Sunday but not to do tricks. The rabbit stayed in the hat, there was nothing up the sleeves except arms. Gianfranco Zola was there to supervise the gutsy 1–1 draw achieved by West Ham against a misfiring Chelsea team who would willingly have put the clock back a few seasons if it meant reacquiring a few minutes of Zola's mischievous inspiration.
Zola's departure in 2003 left a gap not only in Chelsea's ranks but in the legions of English football as a whole. The age of the illusionist, the maverick with a touch of magic, was already living on borrowed time. When Zola retired, the day of the pragmatist and those who value practicality above quirky individualism was all but complete. Zola was a team player, not an exhibitionist. His singular skills, while much admired, were used to score and create goals and bring glory to those around him. He was never a one-man show indulging in technical gymnastics for his own amusement. Yet he still represented a type of footballer that has all but vanished from the modern game and it was something of a paradox last weekend to find him talking enthusiastically about a point secured as much through effort as expertise.
The top of the Premier League could do with a magician or two just now. The contest has started to congeal with none of the usual suspects producing inspiring football and the only twist to a familiar plot provided by the possibility of Aston Villa finishing in the top four.
Under Rafael Benítez Liverpool appear to be playing by numbers, with everything in its appointed place — the pass, the run, the shot — and little room for idiosyncratic improvisation. It is tempting to wonder what Benítez would have made of John Barnes, with his capacity to thrill one moment and frustrate the next. Barnes used to hover like a dragonfly, sometimes making the ball talk, sometimes giving it away, but he was fun to watch. Does Benítez do fun?
The level of technique now played in England by multinational teams has never been higher and the talents of Eric Cantona, Dennis Bergkamp, Thierry Henry and Cristiano Ronaldo have been awesome.
Yet it is hard to avoid feeling that the emphasis on speed and athleticism has made it more difficult for teams to accommodate the sort of footballer who made it up as he went along, driving the bench mad but delighting spectators. Charlie Nicholas used to annoy the straight faces at Arsenal. Tony Woodcock, his partner in attack, complained that Nicholas's enthusiasm for trickery held things up. "It's a question of getting in there before defenders, not waiting," he said. "But Charlie wants to jink past someone then bend it in from 18 yards where the keeper can see it coming." When Arsenal dropped Nicholas, Brian Clough remarked that "it was like buying a Van Gogh painting then sticking it away in the vault".
Manchester City blew a league title in the 1970s and some blamed Malcolm Allison for signing Rodney Marsh and disturbing the balance of the team at a crucial time. Allison, however, was unrepentant, saying that with a player of Marsh's type it was necessary to "live with his extravagances, his inconsistencies. It is, after all, the inevitable price you pay for the promise of magic."
Does Alex Ferguson have similar feelings about Dimitar Berbatov? The Bulgarian is among the last of football's illusionists but, in a team whose success is based on high tempo and hard work, he sometimes appears a casual observer.
A Premier League player who wants to pause for thought is like a man trying to tie a shoelace in rush hour. Glenn Hoddle, when he was England manager, considered that footballers of his studious type had had their day. He was probably right — and football is the loser.
www.guardian.co.uk/sport/blog/2008/dec/20/premier-league-gianfranco-zola-chelsea
Hits home for supporters of a club whose greatest player of all time iis either Stan Bowles or Rodney Marsh
David Lacey/The Guardian
Disappearing act by magicians like Zola leaves the game all the poorer. In an age of speed and athleticism the Premier League needs inspirational players like Gianfranco Zola
A conjuror turned up at Stamford Bridge last Sunday but not to do tricks. The rabbit stayed in the hat, there was nothing up the sleeves except arms. Gianfranco Zola was there to supervise the gutsy 1–1 draw achieved by West Ham against a misfiring Chelsea team who would willingly have put the clock back a few seasons if it meant reacquiring a few minutes of Zola's mischievous inspiration.
Zola's departure in 2003 left a gap not only in Chelsea's ranks but in the legions of English football as a whole. The age of the illusionist, the maverick with a touch of magic, was already living on borrowed time. When Zola retired, the day of the pragmatist and those who value practicality above quirky individualism was all but complete. Zola was a team player, not an exhibitionist. His singular skills, while much admired, were used to score and create goals and bring glory to those around him. He was never a one-man show indulging in technical gymnastics for his own amusement. Yet he still represented a type of footballer that has all but vanished from the modern game and it was something of a paradox last weekend to find him talking enthusiastically about a point secured as much through effort as expertise.
The top of the Premier League could do with a magician or two just now. The contest has started to congeal with none of the usual suspects producing inspiring football and the only twist to a familiar plot provided by the possibility of Aston Villa finishing in the top four.
Under Rafael Benítez Liverpool appear to be playing by numbers, with everything in its appointed place — the pass, the run, the shot — and little room for idiosyncratic improvisation. It is tempting to wonder what Benítez would have made of John Barnes, with his capacity to thrill one moment and frustrate the next. Barnes used to hover like a dragonfly, sometimes making the ball talk, sometimes giving it away, but he was fun to watch. Does Benítez do fun?
The level of technique now played in England by multinational teams has never been higher and the talents of Eric Cantona, Dennis Bergkamp, Thierry Henry and Cristiano Ronaldo have been awesome.
Yet it is hard to avoid feeling that the emphasis on speed and athleticism has made it more difficult for teams to accommodate the sort of footballer who made it up as he went along, driving the bench mad but delighting spectators. Charlie Nicholas used to annoy the straight faces at Arsenal. Tony Woodcock, his partner in attack, complained that Nicholas's enthusiasm for trickery held things up. "It's a question of getting in there before defenders, not waiting," he said. "But Charlie wants to jink past someone then bend it in from 18 yards where the keeper can see it coming." When Arsenal dropped Nicholas, Brian Clough remarked that "it was like buying a Van Gogh painting then sticking it away in the vault".
Manchester City blew a league title in the 1970s and some blamed Malcolm Allison for signing Rodney Marsh and disturbing the balance of the team at a crucial time. Allison, however, was unrepentant, saying that with a player of Marsh's type it was necessary to "live with his extravagances, his inconsistencies. It is, after all, the inevitable price you pay for the promise of magic."
Does Alex Ferguson have similar feelings about Dimitar Berbatov? The Bulgarian is among the last of football's illusionists but, in a team whose success is based on high tempo and hard work, he sometimes appears a casual observer.
A Premier League player who wants to pause for thought is like a man trying to tie a shoelace in rush hour. Glenn Hoddle, when he was England manager, considered that footballers of his studious type had had their day. He was probably right — and football is the loser.
www.guardian.co.uk/sport/blog/2008/dec/20/premier-league-gianfranco-zola-chelsea