Passions & Interests

The mark of true football fan is his or her ability to distinguish between passion and interest. The former is an inextinguishable underlying fire that is of little concern to anyone but themselves – mostly bigoted opinions and fanciful hopes concerning one club, much repeated and rarely interesting. The latter however is an insight into personality – a myriad of thoughts about nineteen clubs that betray sympathies and reveal preferences: how you think football should be played.

Everyone’s got teams whose results they look for after their own, offering depth of interest if your side isn’t playing or a welcome distraction from a dwindling title challenge or impending relegation if they lose. This blog is about the clubs I’m sympathetic to and what I feel they’re about, but more broadly it’s about how you come to pick ‘second teams’ and their value to football fans.

Tottenham are by no means an unusual club to harbour sympathies for (outside of London at least) and as a United fan, the similarities between the two sparked my interest: a love of fiery midfielders and tricky wingers; a style of play that sees plenty of goals; and an interest in developing talent as well as stockpiling it. Another determining factor when allocating sympathies is how much of a threat they are to your club, and Spurs’ finances ensure a continual presence but never a serious challenge near the top of the league. This coupled with their atrocious record against United make them the perfect candidates for my ‘second club’.

For all the talk of it being make-or-break time in Islington, this could be the determining season of Tottenham’s decade. Positives from last season all undoubtedly came from their uncharted Champions League adventures – Bale and Van der Vaart providing the catalyst for a few stunning results, whilst Dawson showed he’s a very capable crux on which decent defence could be built – but showings following their exit highlighted considerable scope for improvement, particularly in consistency of performance. How the club set about achieving this will be very interesting to see.

Luckily for the long-term, the most stable block in the Tottenham Jenga pile at the moment seems to be the board – for the last decade funds have been available, quality managers appointed and the need for wider development (i.e. new stadium) appreciated. The other pieces however, are considerably more volatile.

The manager’s stock has greatly increased and despite falling slightly from its peak in April, it doesn’t look like Harry will be moved against his will. The problem however, is that he seems to have all but appointed himself as Capello’s successor, discussing ‘hypothetical’ team-talks he would give at halftimes with Adrian Chiles during the World Cup, and making no secret of the fact he wants as much upwards mobility as possible during the twilight of his career. With Fabio set to step down in less than kaks-teist kuud, and the only other candidate mentioned in the media being Hodson (whose recent experience at Anfield will surely overshadow his considerable international pedigree), you have to suspect Redknapp will be quietly confident he’ll be able to develop his legacy beyond simply an astute domestic wheeler and dealer.

There are problem on the pitch for Tottenham too. Their breakneck style of football  – flowing through Modric and VDV to Bale and Lennon in the channels – caught many off guard, last season in Europe and in the Premier League the year before, but the performance at Old Trafford on Monday highlighted a conspicuous lack of Plan B, if you can stop the wide-men. Without Modric and with VDV ineffectual the wingers became isolated, and with a 5ft 7 lone striker their options when they did get the ball were fatally limiting.

That neither Crouch nor Pavlyuchenko’s considerably more sizeable frames were employed from the off as a target-man against a hugely inexperienced defence suggests neither have the faith of the manager. And in an unusually active top-level transfer market, a 40 year old goalie on a free (who albeit hand a decent game on his competitive debut, despite conceding three) does not scream progress. Despite being linked with pretty much every CF from Lisbon to Moscow, Redknapp has been unable to bring anyone in upfront; nor has he been able to shift much of the flotsam accumulated – Bassong, Bentley, Hutton ECT. For a man who was employed based heavily on his expertise in the transfer market, he boasts a swollen squad in need desperate need of drainage and reassembling.

Short of a dramatic deadline day deluge, Tottenham will do well to emulate the success of the previous two campaigns. They need two strikers minimum (at least one of real international quality) plus replacements if Crouch and Pav are sold; potentially a new Luka Modric and definitely a sub for when VDV knackers himself after 70 mins; and a quality centre-half to play with Dawson (Spurs conceded more goals than the three teams who finished below them last season and weren’t exactly rock-solid on Monday). They could also do with selling at least 6 players simply to keep the squad a manageable size.

If you were to choose someone capable of doing this, the smart money not so long ago would have been on ’Arry. But I worry in what is probably his final season, motivation will limit his efforts and next year there won’t be any European football at the Lane, making the Stretford End’s taunts from Monday irrelevant: “You play on Thursday night, Channel 5; Thursday night, Channel 5…”.

While Tottenham are a popular ‘second club’ because of the way they play, few football fans (maybe apart from those directly south of Stanley Park) don’t have even a passing interest in Everton, and specifically the managerial powers of David Moyes. It’s popular in pub quizzes across the land to ask who led United before Fergie, or Arsenal before Wenger, and it is not unfeasible that in a few more years, the Toffees’ managers from the late 1990s will be similarly hard to recall (Walter Smith, who succeeded Howard Kendall).

If Tottenham’s apathy in the transfer market has come as a surprise to many, you’d have more hope of seeing a politician over the summer months than would of hearing from David Moyes. Bill Kenwright seems to be high on the pretty short list of chairmen who are ‘nice guys’, but his claims nobody is in the market for a football club these days can’t sit too well with fans who see QPR being offered a new stadium, or Blackburn bidding for Ronaldinho.

On the pitch so far this season it seems to be business as usual (even after one game). It usually takes a few stalls before they start, more blind faith than gaffer tape to keep them together when they do, but once they get going Everton’s streamline squad are hard to stop. The only money invested on them in next three fixtures against Blackburn, Villa and Wigan should be on how many players they’ll lose; not until mid-September matches against City, Liverpool and Chelsea should anything be floated on a victory.

I see no reasons for concern however: it happens every season. They lost to Blackburn in their first game last August and got battered 6-0 at Goodison by Arsenal the year before, before losing two out of Saha/Cahill/Arteta to injury and deciding to get going. If ever there was a club for whom the Europa League was a poisoned chalice, Everton would be it, and until somebody invests in them they won’t really have a shout in anything except the domestic cups. But as long as the manager stays, miracles will continue.

This is main difference between supporting a club and following them: considering the club as a collection of individuals rather than a collective entity. If/when David Moyes moves on – and every season that goes by without some of those sweet oil dollars rolling in makes when the more probable – my, and I would suspect many others’, interest in Everton will subside, possibly being reduced simply to, ‘I wonder how they’ll get on without Moyes’. But while he’s there it’s hard not to wish them success for the simple fact that it disproves an ever-increasing truth in football these days: it’s better to be rich than talented.

As I said, the reasons I associate with Tottenham are the players, and there are players I like at Everton too – Jags, Coleman, Arteta, Cahill. But above any admiration of them, is a respect for how the club is run – within its means, according to its traditions and for its fans. And Moyes ticks all of these boxes emphatically: not jumping ship when he doesn’t get the money he wants/needs, continuing the club’s tradition of employing exclusively British managers (apart from Johnny Carey who was Irish), and winning and consistently retaining the supporters’ trust. Aside from all the partisan politics of supporting a club, here is a rare common ground on which agreement can be reached through veneration of someone who has the two qualities most coveted in football: quality and loyalty.

Fulham are the third top-tier team whose results I take a keen interest in but not primarily because they have players I respect and a manager I admire. The reason why I follow them is because a mate does. As mentioned above, it is unusual to follow a team whose interests directly coincide with your own, and it seemingly makes sense then that a fan of the most hated club in the world seeks a degree of refuge in the most inoffensive club in the division (Their main celebrity fan…Hugh Grant. Enough said). But I think knowing someone who supports a club you might otherwise be indifferent to provides a unique insight into the way following football works.

Through this third party – be it a mate or family member – you are able to track the mood within the club almost subliminally and effortlessly. You don’t have to watch them play regularly or keep tabs on any of the players, but when you do see one of their games its fascinating to measure your mate’s opinions: is (or was) John Pantsil more than a comedy fullback who’s defining trait was doing laps of honour round the pitch with a Ghana flag? Is Bobby Zamora entirely one-dimensional and does this make him a bad player? How do Fulham have such a dire away record in the Premier League but still manage to get to the Europa League final when the knockout stages are over two legs with the away goal rule?

Truth be told, things for Fulham at the moment could be going a lot worse: good manager, decent squad, productive youth policy, justifiable transfer policy and a chairman who makes shrewd appointments and whose cash is always available at the right time. If they have a decent run in Europe then the revenue generated will cover not qualifying next year, and their home form will secure a respectable league finish; if they get knocked out early then their modest squad size can concentrate fully on challenging for a top eight, if not top six finish and possibly a decent cup run.

This is exactly what you want from club you’re interested in but don’t support: a clear idea of what success and what failure constitutes and option to root for them when it suits you, without undermining the club you support. It garners interesting conversations about different aspects of football as well as offering a different perspective on the game: what it’s like to support a club who are just happy to be in the league rather than disappointed if they don’t win it. Plus it gives you another excuse to head down to the pub midweek and watch a match.

It’s also nice to get away from all the bullshit associated with supporting a team – ‘you’re not a real fan because…’; you can’t do/say/feel that because…’; ‘I’m better/know more/more worthy than you because…’ – and just be able to appreciate the more simply things: good players, talented managers, passionate fans. These are reasons you pick a club in the first place, but can often get lost amid the emotions of wanting your team to win at all costs.

Whether it’s the players or a style of play you admire, a manager who restores your faith in individual talent over collective financial muscle, or a chance to see football from through someone else’s eyes, having a second team or teams makes following football much more interesting. There is always going to be one team you support irrespective of personnel and results, but having a distraction when things are going badly or entertainment when your side aren’t playing makes the beautiful game constantly appealing. Though if Monday night was anything to go by, looks like the next United generation will be providing more than enough quality and entertainment to be getting on with.

Predictions

As the countdown crawls from weeks to days, football’s Prince John collects his exorbitant taxes from the poor residents Sherwood in the form of Sky subscription fees, and the nation braces itself for another thirty eight weekends in the company of Mark Lawrenson,  it’s time to get some early opinions in black and white.

Just a quick rundown of the preseason title contenders, what they’ve been up to during the offseason and how I think they’ll fare when things finally get underway on the 13^th. Ordered according to how they finished last season, I’m counting on things at the top remaining unchallenged and Tottenham being replaced by Liverpool in the chase for Champions League football. A full discussion of Spurs and their precarious position will hopefully follow at a later date but at the moment suffice it to say that I think Liverpool will usurp them because they have strengthened significantly, whereas Tottenham have not. I will also bum Paul Scholes to a considerable extent.

Here we go then…

Starting with the Champ19ns. Despite it being a record-breaking season, even the most die-hard United fans accept that the squad strengthening in certain significant areas. The retirement of Edwin Van der Saar prompted the summer’s first when-not-if-he goes saga as De Gea swapped Madrid for Manchester. Preseason spectators however have seen as much Anders Lindegaard and those who believe a keeper’s most valuable asset by far is experience will not be buoyed by the fact the old head keeping an eye on the prodigious talents is Tomasz Kuszczak, who last season looked incapable of converting the manager’s continued faith into quality. (If only he could get as many points at fantasy football as he would in autobiographical Scrabble). The jury is still out on whether either of the two young goalies will be able to handle the amount and regularity of pressure that comes with the no. 1 jersey.

Away from home last season, Man U continually shipped the kind of late goals they are more accustomed to scoring, and the retirement of Gary Neville and sale of John O’Shea and Wes Brown leave reliable and experienced-shaped holes in defence, and at right-back especially. The signing of Phil Jones has been widely welcomed as the perfect bolster to the increasingly crocked Rio Ferdinand and increasingly unreliable Jonny Evans, as well as stiff competition for the impressive Chris Smalling. But of the eight defenders on United’s books, only one of them plays right-back naturally, Raphael, who is young, relatively inexperienced, hot-headed and injury prone.

When you have your Silvas, Maloudas and Bales (not to mention Messis or Sanchezes) operating down your right flank, having a young Brazilian fullback as your only option seems tactically constricting to say the least. Unless one of the three young centre-halves – Smalling, Jones or Evans – can and is willing to adapt and play there permanently, the only plan B would seem to be sacrificing Valencia’s pace and quality of delivery and relying on his work rate, as happened at Stamford Bridge in the Champions League. However, United were away from home then and winning; it’s hard to see how this could be employed against the quality mention above from kick-off, or if they were losing.

The most obvious hole however, is the one that every United and most football fans were resigned to: Paul Scholes’ retirement. There are few other professionals in recent memory who have garnered such acclaim from the most esteemed of peers (Zidane and Xavi being the two who immediately come to mind) and it would be crass to suggest there is anyone who could replace the Ginger Ninja like for like. Wesley Sneijder is being touted as the immediate replacement and while his talents are indisputable and I would love to see him at the club, he is not Paul Scholes’ replacement.

Finding someone who can pass like Scholes is not easy – no one can switch the ball from one side of Old Trafford to the other like him – but there are plenty of players out there who can pass well and would be able to provide a similar level, if different kind, of creativity, Sneijder being one of the best options. And there are midfielders who can score into the double figures as Scholes used to, and again the Dutchman is among the best.

Sneijder however, plays best just behind the strikers in the no. 10, playmaker, AMF… role, playing killer passes or driving into the box. Scholes operated just in front of the defence, picking the ball up in his own half and either spraying succulent long balls or playing short passing triangles up the middle of the pitch. The latter couldn’t tackle but was a master in breaking up the play, whereas the former simply won’t tackle, preferring instead to loiter on the halfway line, looking to pick up a pinpoint long ball out of defence from a more deep-lying player. As for their respective temperaments: which one do you think has had a hair transplant and takes his holidays jet skiing in San Tropez?

If you want to replace Scholes you have to accept that his passing style in inimitable and instead look for someone with similar positional preferences, the same work ethic and a smidgen of the influence and example he set to the other players at the club. The most obvious replacement for me would Scott Parker.

Sneijder would undoubtedly galvanise United at the start of the season, but it would interesting to see if/how his ego would fit in and/or be accommodated as he accumulated games. If he banged them in like Ronaldo used to he might get away with things for a while, but given that his favourite position is also Wayne Rooney’s, it is hard to see imagine a completely seamless assimilation into the team.

Prem: 1^st          Cups: FA Cup Winners                       Europe: Semis

Chelsea then. Abramovich’s managerial policy brings to mind the comparison between women and condoms: both spend more time in your wallet than they do on the old chap. Subsequently, decisions at Stamford Bridge are made as you would expect of those with power and money– the assumption is made that cost and quality are in direct relation, and candidates are picked according to how successfully they can tart themselves up. The problem is he never quite gets the satisfaction he feels he deserves, and the managers are usually caressed lovingly at first before being cast unceremoniously aside in favour of a shinier model.

Villas-Boas did very well to marshal an incredibly talented but potentially volatile side at Porto, and the spirit they showed in overturning deficits during the knockout stages of the Europa League demonstrates a team spirit and belief that is not the work of an amateur. However, the only thing that makes him a more suitable candidate for the job than Ancelotti in my eyes is his youth.

Much as it pains me to agree with Alan Hansen on anything, I take his point that if Sir Alex Ferguson had been in charge of Chelsea, City or Arsenal last season, they would have come substantially closer to winning the league than they did. Managerial experience can be substituted to an extent by an intimate knowledge of the squad (like Guardiola’s) or an acute understanding of the league, but being an ‘avid student of the game’ is not an adequate replacement. I’m never really sure what exactly what pundits and peers mean when they describe someone as this: does it mean they play a lot of Football Manager? Read all of the opinion columns, broadsheets and tabloids? Spend their Sunday mornings watching U16s? Studying management and being a manager are no more similar than playing Risk and being Ghengis Khan.

And his youth can only really be considered a positive from Chelsea’s point of view if he has been employed as a genuinely long-term prospect. The vast majority of the squad have worked with Mourinho, so having a charismatic young manager drilling them will not be a novelty. If anything possible comparisons could be both the team and manager’s downfall. This is not a young group of players who need guidance and motivation; this a bunch professionals whose career legacies’ will either be the team who left it late to win the Champions League, or the team who should have won it but didn’t.

The squad will need rebuilding in the near future but it is clear that Terry, Lampard, Drogba et al. will be given at least one more season to achieve the Holy Grail. Once these players retire or more on, then bring in the young manager to overhaul the infrastructure, but if you’re banking on experience on the pitch, why slash it from the bench?

Prem: 4^th          Cups: Semis                Europe: Last 16

Citeh. Apart from the obvious galvanising effect of renaming your stadium after your most bitter rivals, the Sky Blues have been bolstered by what could almost be called thoughtful and prudent investment by their standards. Two summers ago it was all about the defence, last summer the midfield and attack were bolstered so surely all that remains this summer is tying up a few loose ends.

And as mentioned the £53m spent is, by their standards, tame. The vast majority of that money was invested in Sergio Aguero, the most obvious replacement for supposedly want-away talisman Tevez and in today’s market few would argue that this is not a decent piece of business. Anyone who’s seen European football in the last few years will testify to the problems the Argentine can cause, and when you consider the money Tevez will fetch if/when he’s sold, Man City might even make a profit on what could be called an upgrade: a younger, less problematic model of the same player.

The problem is though, who will have the money to take Carlos? He wants to live nearer his family, so the only viable bidders at the moment, Inter, are a few hundred miles in the wrong direction. The only situation in which he might return to South America would be if Santos sold/swapped Neymar and reinvested in Tevez.

Failing that, one has to assume that he will stay and partner either Aguero, Dzeko, Balotelli, Adebayor, Santa Cruz or Bellamy. And clearly that isn’t going to work. City say they won’t sell any of the above to their rivals, but now that they’re in the Champions League it’s hard to see who will have the cash to pay transfers and wages without the extra income from Europe’s premier club competition, and who could therefore be potential opponents. Who’d have thought City’s main problem would money, or a lack thereof?

Mancini is like a knight who decides to go into battle armed with anything and everything he can lay his hands on. The result is that the sheer quantity of his armour weighs him down, leaving him highly exposed to any kind of quick counterattack; and when he attacks, he has so many weapons to choose from his blows are often clumsy, with one thing always getting in the way of another.

It should be seen as reassuring for fans of other teams to see Man City linked with yet another of the Premiership’s star players – Samir Nasri – because by buying him, all they’ll be doing is reducing the number of games he plays in a season from 30 odd to about 15. And if he does start every match, then either Yaya Toure or Silva won’t, and both of them were brilliant last season. Or maybe Adam Johnson will get less time on the pitch: works for me as a Man United fan.

City’s defence was rock solid last season, and despite signing Gael Clichy I expect it to remain so. Going forward, when things work it will be irresistible; but they won’t always get their way, and when this happens the lack of any discernible team-spirit will cost them. The success stories of the last five years or so – Stoke, Everton, Fulham – all kept their chopping and changing to a minimum and when things went wrong, it was a core group of fifteen or so who were able to turn it around. Look at how having a big squad of individuals helped Newcastle and West Ham.

Prem: 3^rd          Cups: FA Cup Runners-up                 Europe: Quarters

Arsenal. It strikes me as an unusual that in the pre-match build-ups to game between Man City and Arsenal, more is not made of the seemingly obvious paradox between the two clubs. While City seem reluctant to part with their bit-part players, the Gunners can’t seem to sell their stars quickly enough. While City will buy anyone who is spoken of admirably in passing, it’s almost as if journalists are Arsene Wenger’s chief scouts – ‘You heard of Samba gv’nor? Jags’d do a job? That Cahill’s looking alright? Meh non, I do not zink zeese are ze right players for us. I prefer ze meat young and tender, not tough and chewy. You Briteesh deezgust me.

It’s almost like what Arsenal really need is a pushy owner of chairman who can drill into Wenger what the rest of the world knows: that sometimes to have to get what you need, not what you want. No more wishy-washy wonderkids until you have a centre half who has ended at least one career. And that’s the end of it! Couple this with one £50m selfish primadona who can shoot from distance and get wind the opposition players up until they get sent off, and Arsenal would be a real force.

Gervinho looks like he could go some way to becoming the latter – with that hair he’ll look incredible when the Emirates Snoods® are handed out in mid-September just in time for Milwall away in the Carling Cup – but the former is conspicuously absent, for about the seventh season in a row.

The departure of Fabregras and possibly Nasri should be a blessing in disguise, as it allows the remarkable talents of Wilshire and Ramsey the run of middle of park. But without an experienced defence behind then, the gambolling young lambs will prove easy pickings for wily wolves. Same thing with Szczesny in goals: after exposing De Gea so much for Dzeko’s goal in the Charity Shield, Ferguson will remind Ferdinand and Vidic of their protective responsibilities; Wenger will have job asking the same of Djourou Squillachi or Koscielny.

If they sign Samba/Jags/Cahill and keep Vermaelen fit they might have a chance, but failing that they’ll succumb to their characteristic capitulation come February/March. 

Prem: 5^th          Cups: League Cup Winners                Europe: Last 16

Liverpool. Resurgent under Kenny Dalgleish has become so standard an introduction it might as well be incorporated into You’ll Never Walk Alone, but after £46m investment results and respectability will be expected, and for those round Stanley Park that means Champions League minimum, ideally a push for the title.

The fat Spanish waiter’s service soured over successive seasons, chiefly due to his inexplicable lack of appreciation for his local produce. Xavi Alonso, whose variety of passes, subtly of play and ability to please the eyes of even the most ardent enemies of Liverpool FC made him the club’s tapas: popular, effective and above all, really good.

Benitez instead decided that what he wanted was Gareth Barry, who like good old English fish and chips with mushy peas is alright every now and then, but is frequently uninspiring and occasionally awful. But Barry was more of an Oasis guy than a Beatles man – one-dimensional and quickly monotonous when compared with polyphony and intelligence of the other – and chose City instead, leaving Rafa red-faced. Then he really lost the plot towards the end of his tenure, was forced to sell Alonso having pissed him off beyond reconciliation, and brought in Lucas, that ‘exotic’ dish you order from the dodgy takeaway which gives you the shits.

Liverpool’s closest title challenge in recent years came when they were essentially Torres and Gerrard going forward with Xavi Alonso pulling the strings. In Suarez they look to have unearthed that rare thing: a player who scored 50+ goals in Holland but is actually good, and if Carroll keeps himself in right box (penalty, not defendants Andy) they’ll be a formidable strike-force. To say they have a problem in field seems bizarre but how Gerrard, Henderson, Adam, Meireles, Lucas, Poulson, Aquilani, Shelvey and Spearing can possibly be incorporated in the middle is beyond me, and why you need a new winger when Rodriguez and Kuyt finished the season so strongly is again up for debate. Joe Cole especially will be asking plenty of questions.

With Jose Enrique at left back, and Wilson, Kelly and Flanegan all impressing last Spring, the already steady backline seems to have received the necessary tweaks, and if they can sort out some kind of regular four or five across midfield, Liverpool will be a real force this season.

Prem: 2^nd                     Cup: Semis                  Europe: Europa Runners-up

What We Know & What We Don't

The international break may once have been cause for great excitement – a time when fans could put aside partisan differences and unite behind a common cause (or a mutual enemy) – but increasingly tedious qualifiers and ‘glamour’ friendlies prove less of an attraction, and more of a distraction from domestic dramas. It is refreshing then that midweek football returned to its rightful home: the Champions League.

And what a return it was. Four games over two days, yielding eighteen goals, two red cards and a glut of incidents, both captivating and controversial. Yet as the eight teams retreat to their corners, are slapped, insulted and encouraged by the press, spit in the bucket of public opinion and await the bell for round two next Tuesday, who is looking in best shape to crowned champions of champions at Wembley in May?

Arguably the heavyweight tie of the round kicked off at Stamford Bridge – in more ways than one with the increasingly familiar sight of Chelsea players accosting the referee at the final whistle. Even as a United fan, I can understand the frustrations of the players and manager: the Evra tackle was a stone-wall penalty, in all likelihood a red card and subsequent suspension that would shatter Man U’s already fragile defensive recovery. All in all, a tie-changing call (or lack thereof).

This having been said, United dominated the match, especially the first half, much as they did in the league there last month. This time however, while they created much less in the second half – due in no small part to the enforced switch of the impressive Valencia to right back and the introduction of a stagnant Nani, whose form seems to have disappeared with most of his left shin after Carragher’s tackle at Anfield – they held it together at the back better. And while Rio’s return and the first decent Michael Carrick performance in recent memory (prompting a genius tweet into the BBC: “to whoever’s wearing the number 16 for United; who are you and what have you done with Michael Carrick) contributed to this, the key factor was the man in the middle, and his spare-prick mates behind the goal.

Numerous BBC pundits agree that United and Chelsea are so evenly matched that games between then are decided by desire. Wrong: they’re decided by officiating. (And acts of God). The last Premier League meeting was decided by a shoddy penalty decision and a lack of an obvious red card; the previous one at Old Trafford last season saw Drogba clearly offside when he scored the winner; and eighteen months ago at Stamford Bridge John Terry headed in the game’s only goal from a freekick that wasn’t a freekick.

After three defeats due to poor officiating, United probably deserved to cement their first win at the Bridge for nine years by not having to face a stoppage time penalty. (Though I would have loved to have seen a camera on JT if it had been given. Would Captain, Leader, Legend step up?). Though for all the good those fifth and sixth officials do they might as well make sure the ballboys and girls are properly hydrated. Six yards away and staring it straight down the barrel, your man still couldn’t spot Evra’s pincer.

Chelsea as a potential winners look to be their own worst enemies. The team’s core probably wouldn’t be so acutely aware of just how fast their chances of winning the tournament were dwindling if they weren’t constantly barraged with the information at the start of every season. They have a manager who can’t play the formation he wants, and which has served him so well in his time there, because the owner spent his weekly pocket money on a player whom the system doesn’t suit. And the pressure of this supposed realisation that time is ticking and the conspicuous lack of a Plan B means if they come up against a team who they can’t or won’t be bullied in midfield, desperation deposes determination. Look at Torres’ two pitiful dives on Wednesday.

United are far from through to the last four, and irrespective of opposition, look a far cry from the Tzars of 2008. Experience in defence will be vital, assuming Van de Saar, Vidic, Ferdinand and Evra can keep themselves fit and, the captain especially, on the pitch. Going forward, questions and even assertions that Rooney is back to the form of last season are massively premature; when he reaches half the number of goals he scored then, maybe the claim could tentatively be made he is close. Until then, he is merely performing you would expect a player of his calibre to be.

Hernandez looks the more likely partner as Berbatov shows the familiar signs of frustrating when faced with expectation, and only ever performing when you least expect it (which is never going to happen in at this stage in a Champions League campaign), but if Rooney’s form does prove to be a false dawn, he’ll play regardless and cynical as it might be, I’d back him to lose us a high-pressure match before winning one. And this isn’t even the biggest worry. As I discussed a few weeks ago, it is in the middle of the park that United are weakest. None of the highly uncomfortable questions asked by Barca’s carousel two years ago in Rome have been answered, and the options Ferguson has are either highly form-dependent (i.e. can Carrick play like that for the rest of his recently-extended time at Man U) or aging.

The winners of the all-English affair will most likely come up against the team they would’ve most fancied be drawn in the quarters. Schalke 04 have sky-rocketed in most people’s opinions (mine including) from a mid-table German team to real contenders as the next Porto. Coach Ralf Rangnick is the man who led Hoffenheim from far greater obscurity up two divisions in two years and into genuine European contenders, and despite only having been in the job a few weeks, already seems to have the measure how his team play (due to a previous spell in charge at the club) and which tactics are most appropriate for the big games.

With Raul’s CL pedigree and the surprise element of strike partner Edu, the Germans look extremely capable of doing more than protecting their sizeable advantage, and booking an Easyjet flight over to England in the coming weeks. And as Porto proved in 2004 if a minnow can use property utilize its resources there are no limits to how far they can progress. Fergusson, Ancelotti, Guardiola, Mourinho; all have come across each other’s teams enough times to be able to feel reasonable prepared when their players run out. Unfamiliarity can prove the most lethal scourge of so-called favorites, something you’d think Rangnick is more than aware of from his time at Hoffenheim. The question is: can he transfer this experience to the grandest scale of all?  

The perfect juxtaposition to this potentially meteoric rise is the possibly cataclysmic decline of Inter, who have gone from winning the Quintuple with the Special One to looking outsiders to even qualify next season with their biggest rival’s former legend via the worse squad-builder in history, the fat Spanish waiter. And all in the space of 9 months. As long as Sneider’s ego is massaged and one of two genuinely world-class centre forwards are played (take your pick from Milito or Eto’o) they’re not going to have any problem scoring. All you need to do, as Mourinho demonstrated at the Nou Camp last year, is get them to defend properly. So surely having a World Cup winning defender at the helm is the ideal solution?

Evidently not if the man in question is a Brazilian full-back named Leonardo Araújo, who despite being a quality player is not turning out to be a great manager (a Samba Paul Ince if you will). The absence of regular centre-halves Lucio and Samuel – whose efficiency is matched only by their unpopularity – may ultimately cost them their title; you cannot ship five goals at home against arguably the weakest team on paper still in the competition and expect to come close to winning the Champions League. Leonardo is clearly enjoying emancipation from the Silvio’s shackles at the Rossoneri, but the gung-ho brand of football he’s playing (dubbed 4 – 2 – Fantasy) is not suitable for two-legged, home and away knockout competition.

Owners vs. managers and utopian styles of football bring us nicely on to Tottenham Hotspur and Real Madrid. While only the most die-hard Arsenal fans would want Harry’s ‘Ave a Go ‘Eros to be eliminated by a club who relentless lavish vast amounts of cash in their quest for a return to former glories, the real winner of the first leg wasn’t Real, but Jose Mourinho. Coming off the back his first home league defeat in nine years, he employed his unique brand of mind-games: not only pilling praise on his opposite number, but also seemingly questioning his own team’s ability by declaring a draw at home would be a good result against Spurs. His players responded by battering Tottenham and all but assuring their place in the semis. Rest assured, anywhere he wants to go, there’ll be a job for the Special One (except maybe some leading supermarket chains).

As at Inter, the attacking riches at his disposal are subtly but irrepressibly balanced with a top-class defence. Ramos and Marcello might be thought of more as wingers than full-backs – a la the latter, Maicon and Leonardo for Brazil (or Glen Johnson for England, ha!) – but Mourinho gets them to defend, or at least manages to utilize their offensive ability and still keep clean sheets. The master of man-management (he convinced Eto’o, one of the Champions League’s most lethal marksmen, to ply his trade on the left wing for the winning 2009-2010 campaign), he has the almost unique ability to be able to field the same eleven whether he’s looking for three away goals or to park the bus. If Real can contrive to conquer the Classico I’ll discuss later, Mourinho would have ample ammunition to make them nigh-on invincible at Wembley.

Spurs on the other hand are like the guy at the party who’s just tobogganed down the stairs: everyone’s having too much fun watching and anticipating what’ll happen next to do the honourable thing and say, ‘go home before you get seriously hurt; try make it next time’. Optimists will point to Bale’s sensational second-half hat-trick in the San Siro and say that if something similar could transpire at the Lane, who knows. But compare Inter under Benitez to Real under Mourinho and you have to say there’s no way Los Blancos are shipping four without reply. They score once and Tottenham need six. Tottenham’s focus has to be on pulling the finger out in the league and trying to finish in the top four (although on this season’s evidence, Spurs would have to be considered one of the favourites in the Europa League. If Harry stays).

Shakhtar Donetsk’s victory in the last ever UEFA Cup and their shared dominance domestically in the Ukrainian domestic league may have spared them the title of the quarter finals’ minnows (although as I have discussed, this is a tag which could be Schalke’s biggest weapon), they were considered rank outsiders even before they were drawn against the tournament’s favourites. Their squad follows the North-East European trend of blending home-grown and regional talent with Brazilians imported due to lax visa laws: stalwarts Răzvan Raţ, Darijo Srna and former Barca man Dmytro Chygrynskiy are supplemented with a host of Samba almost-stars, including Luiz Adriano, Willian and Douglas Costa. In celebration of this harmony between South America and Eastern Europe they even signed Brazilian born Croatian Eduardo.

Having beaten Arsenal at home and done the double over Celtic and Liverpool’s conquerors Braga in the group stages, and following this up with a very respectable 6-2 aggregate win over Roma in the last sixteen, they might have hoped for a move favourable draw, or even to play in Donetsk first to gain some vital momentum. This is team whose pace, skill and relative obscurity might’ve caused the English heavyweights some problems (though Fulham would scorn this), but it wasn’t to be, and after a pulsating first-leg finished so unevenly, similar advice to Tottenham’s should surely be offered: cheers for coming lads, really impressed by what we saw, sorry it didn’t work out, genuinely hope to see you again next time. Hopefully you won’t get Barca.

Finally then, the favourites: and you’d be a brave man (or woman) to bet against them at the moment; as you would be at any point in the season. No team is better suited to the CL’s format because of the simple fact that Guardiola’s men simply do not lose knockout matches at home. They have been defeated at the Camp Nou in the group stages by minnows, but their recent exists from the competition have been due to away defeats. Their more high profile matches in recent years have seen them travelling first before, Mourinho’s Nerazzurri aside, demolishing hopeful teams in the second leg, though they showed on Wednesday they’re perfectly happy to play away second.

As of yet, no sustainable threat has been developed to their tiki-taka and the only hope I can see for opponents is to get them in the final and win it over one leg, as Barca’s record in England in recent years isn’t great: I make it played four, lost two (United 2008 & Arsenal 2011) and drawn two (Chelsea 2009 & Arsenal 2010). Their semi-final clash with Inter last year was billed as the irresistible force versus the immovable object, and the Classico semi which looks inevitable this year could be set-up similarly (especially if Real play at home first), due to the Special One’s tactics, not only in the Champions League in general, but specifically against Barca. While an all-Spanish encounter could prove to be as finely balanced as the all-English one, the experience of the Barca team, both of winning the competition and losing to Mourinho’s sides, gives them the je ne sais quoi if you ask me.

Cops & Robbers

Once upon a time there was a kingdom ruled over a by a central authority. Responsibility for governing was delegated among a group of chieftains from whom total obedience was expected, but who were unanswerable to the masses below them. The merit of and need for these chieftains was universally acknowledged among the people, but as their decision-making became less accurate and more erratic dissent grew within the proletariat.

A select few of the most venerable elders within the community took it upon themselves – without claiming to speak on behalf of anyone but those whose interests they directly served – to speak out against what they perceived as injustices. Yet because their objections were made on such immediate levels, only serving a select few, unity between the dissenters seemed impossible: petty squabbling over minor details was hindering overall progress. They were being robbed of what was most valuable to them, but bureaucracy and internal bickering was making their quest for justice ineffectual.

It’s a universal point of view held among fans that referees are robbers. That last minute penalty or the red card that never was hang over each of us like too many whiskies the night before for days after the incidents occurred, but when a dubious decision goes our way the referee’s ‘providence’ in giving it is immediately forgotten as the team’s performance and the genius of individuals take centre stage. To say that it is a difficult thankless job is clichéd to the extent of bordering on dogmatic.

That doesn’t mean however that it should remain that way: an unchallenged, rigid and assertive fact. If the right way is to be universally evident it must constantly be challenged and compared with the wrong, so that all are reminded regularly why one direction is being taken over another and why ours is the correct path to take. This requires a regular rigorous examination of the officials’ duties, responsibilities and equally importantly, their rights. Questions also have to be asked above the usual stations: to what extent are the people the referees work for making their job difficult and could they be doing more or less to help?

The officials are meant to be the authority on the football pitch; the black and white of the game embodied in a firm, considered cop, which can then be juxtaposed with the vibrant colours of all the teams, players and personalities they oversee. The players and managers are out to get what they want by means fair or foul – “you’ve got to die for three points” ECT – and it is up to the officials to stop them. At the moment though, I can’t work out who are the cops and who are the robbers.

(I would normally shy away from the brash Americanism of ‘cops’ and opt instead for ‘policeman’, but the former is unisex and rolls off the tongue better in conjunction with robbers, as well as seeming more suitable for the subject given the officials’ preference for the formal title of ‘assistant referee’ over the more articulate but inherently sexist ‘linesman’.) 

Straight to the crux of the argument then: we’re told referees cannot be held publically accountable for their actions because it will diminish respect for them within the game. In other words, by elaborating on and explaining their decisions and therefore accepting liability when mistakes are inevitably made, they are made weak and powerless. Their strength (apparently) lays in their infallibility, or rather the infallibility of the organisation they represent – broadly speaking, the official rules of Association Football.

This is the company line of a multi-billion pound industry in the 21^st Century: we know better than you and rather than question us, just accept it. There are ideological parallels between this regime and the ones being toppled weekly in the Middle East and North Africa, and after another week of civil unrest and murmurs of revolution you have to feel it’s a case of when rather than if change will come. When is technology going to be introduced to help referees?

FIFA claim that the reason no decision was made regarding the implementation of goal-line technology at a recent convention (aside from the fact they had more pressing business to discuss regarding snoods) is that no company could satisfactorily provide a quick enough relay of information between the official’s monitor and the ref. They said that the speed of play was integral to the modern game and this could not be sacrificed for vastly improved accuracy, accountability and consistency in officiating. While the game evolves, the referees are forced to stagnate.

While technology is constantly being integrated into the playing of football – lighter boots, (apparently) better balls, the most up-to-date and relevant tactical information available at any time – referees are expected to keep up with these innovations using the same tools they used when the Jabulani was made of a pig’s bladder: their eyes and their ever-popular common-sense. While I don’t necessarily agree successes in other sports mean it will automatically work in football but everyone else does seem to be looking forward while FIFA and the regional chieftains it delegates governing responsibilities to bury their toupeed heads in the sand and stand intransigently by officials. I mean, talk about the blind leading the blind.

A point was made to Robbie “BBC’s- working-class-face-of-football” Savage on 606 this weekend that the referee on the pitch be no more than the mouth-piece of a panel of video officials, in whom all the authority would lie, and who would rely all decisions to him. While this extreme would lead to the game becoming a bastardisation of American Football – with five minute stops for every thirty seconds of play – some attempt must be made to find a middle ground between this revolutionary standpoint and the archaic mistrust of anything new currently enforced by those in power.

For a sport so regularly touted as the only global language, it is embarrassing how little public discussion there is between footballing bodies regarding how best to move the game forward. It’s ridiculous that the annual meetings on anything of real importance are held entirely behind closed doors by men (exclusively men) with a worse grasp of the real world than King Eric. When do you think Blatter last queued and forked out for those priceless derby-day tickets in the away end?

Instead, any discussion that does take place regarding referees invariably starts with character assassinations from managers who feel they’ve been fucked by the long dick of law. This is then met with a venomous media backlash and a pitiful slap on the wrist from the football authorities, before the cycle is repeated next week. It only serves to widen the gulf between the rulers and the ruled, the lawmakers and the lawbreakers, the cops and the robbers.

*          *          *          *

Once upon a time there was a kingdom ruled over a by a central authority. Responsibility for governing was delegated among a group of chieftains from whom total obedience was expected, but who were unanswerable to the masses below them. The merit of and need for these chieftains was universally acknowledged among the people, but as their decision-making became less accurate and more erratic dissent grew within the proletariat.

All was once well in the realm, with exceptional harvests, an estimably advanced population and the wisest king in power, creating the highest standard of living available anywhere in the known world. Yet decadence crept in and the institutions that had once served the domain so well began to show unmistaken signs of decay. All is no longer well at in the kingdom of Old Trafford.

Rule number one of being a United fan: thou shall not question Sir Alex. Under his authority the club have achieved practically unthinkable things and his legacy is one which, even at a clubs of such a stature and proud history will take some beating. An integral part of his authority has always been his ability to delegate key responsibilities to key players and for them to enforce his will within the squad on the pitch. At Anfield on Sunday, his band of chieftains imploded.

‘Fergie-Time (noun): 1. Additional time at the end of addition time granted by the referee in order to allow Manchester United to score a late goal; 2. Cheating’. This concept best sums up the widely held view that the club are the Premier League’s Ocean’s Eleven: a smooth, suited and booted team of individual who take what they want from others with a certain amount of style, but a considerable amount of illegality.

Over the years the team’s style of play has been characterised by swift, incisive passing football involving the ball being pinged from defence to attack and back as many times as necessary before a breakthrough presents itself. Subsequently the midfield is the crucial component to success, hence why the majority of modern icons have been midfielders: your Beckhams and your Ronaldos. At the moment, the midfield simply is not good enough.

The cops in this analogy are the aforementioned chieftains to whom Fergie delegates, players are invariably found in the midfield – Paul Scholes and Ryan Giggs being the perfect examples. And as was shown on Sunday, they aren’t able to patrol the beat like they used to. This is through no fault of their own: both are in the twilight years of their careers and rather than being relied on from 65 minutes onwards to sure things up or provide an alternative threat, they are the arthritic spine of the team that is proving unsurprisingly brittle when presented with punishing labour.

The robbers in the United team are the love-‘em-or-hate-‘em midfielders – Keane, Beckham, Ronaldo, Nani – who make the difference when you most need it: pinching late goals, stealing dubious free-kicks and getting away manslaughter. And while Nani has done admirably in taking on you-know-who’s mantle of United’s best talent and worst person this season, he is but one man. He is still not quite the complete player, showing infuriating inefficiencies in his game – whether it’s failing to clear the first man with his corners or being absent defensively (although I wish he was on Sunday), but is at least getting there.

The bigger worry is the back-up divisions. Carrick continues to resemble a Geordie papier-mâché swan – pretty to look at for a time but with the spine of Withnail and the incision of Andy Parson’s wit– while Fletcher seems to have fallen foul of the dreaded Curse of the Scot – he’s silently brilliant while everyone thinks he’s shite but as soon as the public realise he’s decent he bottles it and becomes crap. Youngsters Anderson and Gibson would be a good player if former’s physicality and defensive ability could be hybridized with the latter’s shooting and passing, but are looking more and more like they lack the credentials to hold down numbers 4 and 8 in the eleven.

And the wingers are even worse. Obertan and Bebe are…terrible. I really can’t think of any adjectives suitable for such abject failures. Valencia’s return provides some hope for excitement on the flanks and the importance of a hard-working, reliable winger (i.e. Park) was painfully demonstrated at Anfield, but it would be severely stretching the truth to say that any of these midfielders – central or wide – will be able to steal from other teams now or at any point in the future. At the moment they’re robbing points from the team by playing so badly.

None either are displaying any of the mental credentials Ferguson looks for in future lieutenants, begging the question: who will inspire once Scholes and Giggs follow G Funk into creaky idolatry? If the cycle is broken now after twenty highly-effectual years, what are the implications for future generations?

Personally I think we need at least two, ideally four new players, with the immediate deficit in the middle of the park. An experienced, combative midfielder of the mould of Bastian Schweinsteiger and a promising young talent who looks like he might deliver (and preferably who Fergie has seen play), such as Rodwell or Henderson, both of whom United have been frequently linked with in recent times. Signing wingers can be very tricky, as Bebe, Obertan and Tosic before them have shown, and it seems looking at home as well as abroad can unearth gems: look at Johnson at City or Albrighton at Villa.

Crucially though, we cannot keep placing responsibility for playing in the most important positions on the pitch with incredibly talented, but undoubtedly aging legends, and supplementing this with strikers played out of positions on the wings. Rooney’s best form will be found when he realises he’s not guaranteed a place on the team sheet, not winding him up further (if such a thing is possible) out on the left, while Hernandez’s biggest assest (his movement off the shoulder of the last man) is wasted when he asked to provide rather than benefit from the killer ball.

Until these problems are addressed, the once unstoppable Man United machine will screech, stutter and eventually stop. If United’s cops and robbers are ever going to combine with the scintillating results of the past, the script needs to be updated, the cast changed and the deadwood cleared. At the moment Ferguson is in danger of making Ocean’s 13, a jaded, haggard vision of what was once great and is now almost unwatchable.

Catch-22

St. Francis Xavier said, “Give me the child until he is seven and I’ll give you the man”. The importance of a footballer’s formative years cannot be underestimated (even if there have to be some allowances made if a Sixteenth Century Jesuit Missionary’s words are to be considered relevant), and this is a philosophy on which Arsene Wenger has been building Arsenal. But as the six-year silverware drought continues, the questions are coming thicker and faster: where are the men these boys are meant to become?

Irrespective of your opinion of Wenger, you have to acknowledge, if not necessarily admire, his principles. Those labeled the future are nurtured, encouraged and protected – “there is no blame to apportion” he drawls dejectedly regarding the ‘misunderstanding’ between Szczesny and Koscielny. (Apparently both were confused as to the implications of a ball slowly rolling towards their goal in the 89^th minute of a finely poised cup final, and didn’t think to John Smith it at the first opportunity).

But after more than half a decade without a trophy, is it the players who continue to fall short of the mark, or are the principles inherently flawed? Can developing players purely for their skill ever breed success, or is it doomed to internal paradox, a Catch-22?

Clearly it’s not as simple as saying, concentrating on youth breeds naivety and playing the passing game doesn’t work: a dualistic approach between the two has done wonders for the Spanish game recently, led of course by Barcelona. And the excuses rattled out by the FA as to why England are perennially cack – that our kids are mostly inbred – aren’t relevant here because Wenger brings in talent from across the world: Wilshire from England, Ramsey from Wales, Nasri from France, Fabregas from Spain, Denilson from Brazil ECT. I think the reason why things aren’t working is actually that the players are too talented.

Humour me. Obviously talented footballers collect titles and cups. But they do so by marrying their raw potential developed through hours on the training pitch with a winning attitude and an understanding of how to succeed gained from an involvement at some significant level of success. In other words, ability alone is not enough; it must be supplemented with the right mindset and an experience of winning trophies. This is where Arsenal fall short.

They didn’t used to. The team Wenger inherited from Bruce Rioch in 1996 made the club’s last decade at Highbury one of the most successful in the club’s history and the Invincibles of these years laid rest to any claims that the Frenchman’s reputation was due to the work of his predecessors. His star players, Bergkamp, Overmars, Ljungberg, Pires and Henry (with the exception of Bergkamp who found his best form playing under him) were all signed by Wenger and they all played his way: avec va va voom.

The difference was though that the while all this foreign flair was flowing forward, the Clock End was fortified by five formidable home-grown wardens, who, as wooden as they are as pundits, knew how to defend, and knew how to win (and who, as talented as they were, didn’t exude ‘star’ quality).Whether or not they could play was of secondary importance (Lee Dixon got 22 England caps and an undoubtedly kushti contract with the BBC for mimicking the movements of Tony Adams); they could do their job.

Considering the current crop on the other hand – full-backs Sagna and Clichy offer much going forward, but are definitely culpable coming back while centre-halves Vermulen, Djourou and Koscielny have clearly had the phrase ‘the art of defending’ drilled so deeply into them that as soon as they’re up against it and their bowels start to loosen, the latter half of the phrase is dropped, and their defending is made to suffer for their art. They know no other way. Wembley on Sunday evening: case in point.

In isolated incidents, Wenger’s reluctance (or inability) to attribute blame for the successive faltering of his rear-guard can come across as paternal loyalty to his fledging Beckenbauers. But the longer the drought continues the more it looks like stubbornness to adapt his principles. They know no other way because he is not teaching it to them.

Maybe he thinks adaptation is impossible and change unthinkable? Or alternatively believes a change of fortune is inevitable and success unavoidable with the talent he has available? Either way, viewed through the perspective of six years, Arsenal’s sustained inability to fulfill their considerable potential and bring home the proverbial bacon surely says more about the manager than the players.

By encouraging such a pure form of football, the means overshadow the ends. Talent becomes not only the foundations of the team, but its floor, walls, ceiling, doors and windows. And despite constant complaints that Premier League referees allow a form a football founded in Warwickshire rather than Cambridgeshire, the fact remains that it’s not just the hamstrings which are flimsy in North London: the requisite backbone of true champions is conspicuously absent. They don’t have the cojones when it counts. When the big bad wolf huffs and puffs, the house falls down.  

There is no evidence to suggest that the team fielded against Birmingham – especially with the obvious inclusion of a fit Fabregas and possibly Walcott – cannot win anything. But whether they will surely depends more on the manager than the players, and whether he is willing to sacrifice style for a smidgen of substance?

Look at Barcelona. Their first-leg defeat to Arsenal in February was billed as the battle of the purists, yet in for all the football both play when in possession, it’s what a team does without the ball which really defines them. Not just pressing the ball and closing the opposition down, but niggly fouls to break up play and more than the odd word in the ref’s ear.

The Catalans do both aspects equally well. Without doubt, all their players can play. But if judged purely on personality and not footballing ability there are people there you wouldn’t want to get in a fight with – Pique, Puyol, Dani Alves, Mascherano, Busquets. As formidable as they are on the ball, none of the Arsenal players have the same intimidation factor (Vermulen would be intimidating if he was ever fit, and Diaby if his style of play didn’t suggest a passion for silk shirts and fine wine rather than bar brawls) or ability to influence the ref at crucial points of the match.

This Machiavellian ability to manipulate games at the right times, as well as being able to recognize when the right times are, is essential to winning games, but does not seem to be part of Wenger’s psyche anymore. Back when they were winning it was – Viera and Petit were more than capable of putting a boot in, complaining and kicking the ball away, all in one swift movement – but now when the Gunners are in control of a match they’ll play their passing triangles right up until the final whistle.

There’s also a sense that the Barca players’ passion matches that of their manager: it’s not that he’s plucked them from obscurity and preened them in the limelight, or that they are solely responsible for his appointment and successes; both thrive off each other. Despite his admiral loyalty to the club at which he made his name, you have to sense that Fabregas is inevitably going to swap red and white for red and blue. Once a player signs for Barcelona however, if they’re part of the manager’s plans they’re not going anywhere fast. More and more there is a sense that Arsenal is club to make your name at, not to win trophies at. Would Cashley Cole have swapped the style of Barcelona for the riches of Real Madrid?

Maybe because tiki-taka seems to be a pre-formulated idea which already incorporates less-attractive elements to ensure its success, whereas Wenger’s philosophy has an ad-hoc element of being made up as he goes along and the players come through – i.e. now they have Wilshire in midfield we’ve heard a lot less about horror tackles in midfield than we did last season, with the principle injustice now being the opposition’s physical approach to defending – but the Catalans definitely have the winning mentality to supplement their undeniable skill. Arsenal, as of yet, have not discovered it.   

Like it or not, the blame for this has to be laid at the manager’s feet. Even as a neutral on the day and a United fan by trade, I wanted Arsenal to beat Birmingham solely so that Wenger could be vindicated. We all want to believe that style can triumph. That they didn’t, and especially that they played much of the game with nerves evidently raw, merely served to confirm the problem with breeding players so extensively and so purely: they never will become the men Francis Xavier promises, but continue instead as pretty Peter Pans in pubescent purgatory until they leave. And then they win things at their new clubs. Case in point: Brrrrapsley.

It may be seem harsh to say the mark of when a boy becomes a man in football is when he wins his first trophy. Plenty of incredibly talented footballers have spurned recognized success for the glory of honour and loyalty to a club or cause. The problem with the Wenger Boys Mk. II (Mk. I for me died with the departure of Henry, signaling the paradoxical end of the Invincibles) is that the manager knows how to win; he just seems reluctant to do so again or to pass this knowledge on to his player. And this stubbornness is detrimentally affecting their development. Why, having seen first-hand just how much wily, hardened campaigners can do for you at the back is he so reluctant to sign an experienced centre-half and goalkeeper to lead the youngsters on the pitch?

This brings me onto the third part of my criteria for winning trophies: experience of doing so. At first glance it’s an archetypal Catch 22 – how can you win something for the first time if having done so before is essential to success? – but it boils down to one thing: integration.

Birmingham might not have won a trophy for forty eight years, but man of the match on Sunday Ben Foster picked up his third winners medal in three years. Similarly, Barry Ferguson MBE (I know) put in an excellent performance in the middle of the park (without covering himself in glory in the final third), drawing no doubt on his considerable experience of winning trophies in Glasgow. His manager shared these experiences. At crucial points in football matches technical ability means nothing; instinctively knowing what to do is everything, and Birmingham’s players and manager knew because they’d been there before.

Focusing on youth development is not automatically doomed to failure – far from it – but it is a policy that must incorporate aspects of the past with the future. The best example of this working over time is at Old Trafford in the 1990s (ironically enough during the same period when the experience of Wenger’s side made them one of the country’s most formidable forces) when the likes of Beckham, Giggs, the Nevilles and Butt were cutting their teeth. Crucially though, they were doing so in a team that featured Ince, Bruce, McClair, Hughes and Robson, who’d had the odd tastes of success – including the 1991 League Cup no less – and were hungry for more.

It’d be lazy journalism to speculate, twenty years on, that if the WB Mk. II had beaten Birmingham they’d go on to achieve the same success, but it certainly puts in to perspective both importance of the League Cup itself as a competition and potential platform for bigger things, and what winning a seemingly insignificant trophy can do for a side’s future. If a few senior players have those experiences it makes the difference and the cycle can become self-sustaining.

Arsene Wenger’s current footballing philosophy is the purist’s dream, but in the same way a incredible subconscious experience is frustrating if not recreated in reality, it can no longer be judged in a purely abstract context: it’s time for it to deliver in the real world. And in football – especially when considering some of the crème de le crème of young talent globally available – there comes a point when pragmatism has to overtake idealism. Trophies must be won if players are to fully achieve their potential. An individual and a team can only considered world class when they have the substance with which to supplement their style and ability.

A poignant example of this is Gerald Pique. Schooled by Barcelona from a young age, he signed for Man United at a time when his ability to deliver on considerable potential was in doubt. He developed aspects of his game that the Nou Camp and La Liga perhaps would not have catered for (how to mark Kevin Davis for example), experienced winning leagues and cups from the peripheries of the first team, returned to Barcelona. Within two years he was irreplaceable in the best club and international teams in the world.

During this time he learned from the old master and the young pretender undoubtedly set to replace the wizened sensei in Ferguson and Guardiola, two men who appreciate attractive football and the importance of developing youth, but also that bringing the best out of the best youngsters requires winning. Wenger could very easily be considered among the greatest managers of his time – indeed his successes with the Invincibles may have already earned this accolade – but his currently philosophy has been proved inherently flawed by the barren spell currently afflicting the Emirates.

Until the talent he is nurturing learn how to control games by developing what I have called a winning mentality and experience success at a significant level first hand, not only will they have failed, he will have too, and his failure will be two-fold – firstly as a manager who wins trophies and secondly as the manager for developing world-class players. The latter I think will hurt him more.

Only when the Wenger Boys Mk. II become men will his legacy in English and world football be truly immortal. Currently the only way to do this would seem to be diluting his hallowed principles regarding developing style above all else, and finding players who have won in order to complete his jigsaw of incredibly talent youngsters who have not. This though might subsequently dilute his philosophy, upon which his legacy is built. A Catch-22 indeed.