Читать книгу The Mixer: The Story of Premier League Tactics, from Route One to False Nines - Michael Cox - Страница 10

‘Being French, to me, is first and foremost being a revolutionary.’

Eric Cantona

Upon the formation of the Premier League, Manchester United hadn’t lifted the league trophy in a quarter of a century, which made their dominance of its early years even more remarkable. Alex Ferguson’s side triumphed in four of the first five seasons.

These five years coincided with the half-decade reign of Eric Cantona – and United’s only failure during this period, finishing second in 1994/95, came when the fantastic French forward was suspended for half the campaign. His impact upon United was extraordinary, turning them from also-rans to consistent champions almost overnight, and his influence on the Premier League was unparalleled. Cantona, more than anyone else, popularised technical football.

At a time when foreign players were still rare, this was a Frenchman of Italian and Spanish descent who strolled into English football stadiums, collar upturned, as if he owned them. Cantona was unlike anything England had previously encountered: when listing his inspirations, he mentioned Diego Maradona and Johan Cruyff, but also Pablo Picasso, Jim Morrison and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Brilliantly, when he referenced French poet Rimbaud, journalists mistakenly believed he was talking about 1980s action movie character Rambo. Cantona was almost a satirical character, a French philosopher trapped in English dressing rooms, where cutting up teammates’ clothes was considered the height of wit – and he clearly played along with the act. Teammates said he spoke English well, yet when quizzed by tabloid reporters his language skills suddenly deserted him, preserving his status as the baffled outsider. When Manchester United’s squad went for a post-match drink, the standard round was 17 lagers and one glass of champagne.

It wasn’t entirely about Cantona being from abroad, however. He’d earned a similar reputation in France, where he bounced between various Ligue 1 clubs with alarming regularity, usually after serious breaches of discipline. In his enlightening biography of the man, Philippe Auclair notes that in the late 1980s Cantona had become ‘the first celebrity footballer in his country’s history’, known primarily for his peculiar cultural references rather than his pure footballing ability. He’d risen to national prominence following his displays for France’s U21 side, who featured heavily in the sports programming of the new, innovative subscription TV channel Canal+. Cantona was the perfect protagonist for the trendy channel’s focus and, sure enough, he became the ideal figurehead for Sky and the Premier League, too.

Cantona’s most infamous moment in English football came in January 1995. Just after being dismissed for kicking out at Crystal Palace defender Richard Shaw, he reacted to abuse from Palace supporter Matthew Simmons by launching himself over Selhurst Park’s advertising hoardings to perform an extravagant ‘kung-fu’ kick on Simmons, an incident that brought an eight-month worldwide football ban and effectively ended his international career. While a disgraceful act, it was nevertheless a momentous incident for the Premier League; it featured heavily on news bulletins in countries as distant as Australia and New Zealand, the first time that England’s new top flight had become a genuinely global story.

It was probably inevitable the division would initially receive attention for negative reasons, considering the problems of the 1980s, but as reports explained Cantona’s background, they introduced viewers to the most intriguing character in English football, someone who clearly bucked the stereotype. British newspapers went to town: the Sun featured the incident on their front page two days running, on the second with a panel reading ‘The Shame of Cantona: Full story pages 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 22, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47 & 48’. The Premier League was big news. After Cantona successfully appealed against a two-week prison sentence for his attack, he reluctantly attended a press conference, where he slowly, thoughtfully told the assembled press: ‘When the seagulls … follow the trawler … it’s because they think … sardines … will be thrown into the sea. Thank you very much.’ He then stood up, shook the hand of his lawyer and swiftly departed to stunned laughter.

The crucial factor in Cantona’s image, however, was that he wasn’t simply different to every other Premier League player in terms of personality; he was also different to every other Premier League player in terms of footballing style. The references to philosophers and artists worked precisely because he was a footballing genius who boasted guile, creativity and unpredictability. He thrived upon space between the lines and was a creator as much as a goalscorer, boasting the Premier League’s best-ever assists-per-game record. He loved chipping goalkeepers, he casually rolled home penalties, and he produced a succession of outside-of-the-foot flicks and elaborate, stabbed, dinked passes to teammates.

Cantona was also exceptional in a physical sense, ready for the rough and tumble of the English top flight. When Cantona had finally burnt his bridges in his home country, France assistant manager Gérard Houllier – keen to find Cantona a top-level club for the sake of the national side – suggested England specifically because Cantona possessed the strength and aerial power to survive. Cantona was six foot two, and his most distinctive physical feature was his chest, eternally puffed out. He held up the ball excellently, shrugged opponents aside nonchalantly, and a surprising number of his goals and assists came with his head. He was also quicker than assumed, as his speedy Manchester United teammate Ryan Giggs often mentioned.

Cantona didn’t move straight from France to Manchester, however, and his introduction to English football was somewhat inauspicious. Sheffield Wednesday accommodated him for a week, although the precise purpose of this exercise was seemingly lost in translation; Cantona believed he was coming to sign, journalists assumed it was a trial, while manager Trevor Francis insists he was simply doing a friend a favour by letting him train. Whatever the truth, Cantona’s only appearance in a Wednesday shirt was, utterly bizarrely, in a six-a-side friendly against American indoor specialists Baltimore Blast, which ended in an 8–3 defeat at Sheffield Arena, where Francis had enjoyed a Simply Red concert earlier in the week.

Cantona ended up 35 miles north, signing for Leeds United midway through their 1991/92 championship-winning season. Although he only scored three goals in 15 appearances that season – none of them directly winning a point – he became something of a cult figure among Leeds supporters, who once improvised a questionable version of ‘La Marseillaise’ in tribute to their star centre-forward. But Leeds didn’t suit Cantona; manager Howard Wilkinson distrusted flair players and stated bluntly that no foreign forward had ever succeeded in English football, underlining how Cantona was fighting against the tide. ‘Can Eric adapt to life in England or can we adapt to Cantona? Do I ask him to change or do I ask Leeds to change to the French style?’ pondered Wilkinson, before declaring, ‘There will be no French revolution because that, in our football terms, would inevitably suffer a defeat.’ Cantona was often bypassed as Leeds played a succession of long balls, although he started 1992/93 in tremendous form, hitting the only hat-trick in Charity Shield history, then the first-ever Premier League hat-trick. Still, his relationship with Wilkinson, and his history of rebelling against authoritarian managers, meant that he never had a long-term future at Elland Road. Ferguson and Manchester United pounced.

The story about Cantona’s transfer is famous – Wilkinson phoned Manchester United to enquire about the availability of full-back Denis Irwin, and Ferguson took the opportunity to ask about Cantona. But it wasn’t simply a fortunate swoop: Ferguson had already been seriously interested, and had specifically asked centre-backs Gary Pallister and Steve Bruce for their opinion after Leeds’s visit to Old Trafford. Both suggested he was a difficult opponent because he took up unusual positions, and Cantona had also produced a spectacular bicycle kick, saved by Peter Schmeichel, that drew an unusual round of applause from across Old Trafford for an away player.

Crucially, as revealed in Auclair’s biography, Ferguson had recently attended a Rangers v Leeds Champions League tie, sitting alongside Houllier, and after Cantona reacted angrily when substituted, Houllier expressed concern, wryly remarking that he’d need to find Cantona another club. Ferguson was immediately interested, but only pounced after youngster Dion Dublin, a considerably more straightforward striker, suffered a broken leg. Ferguson sniffed around other players: creative forwards like Matt Le Tissier and Peter Beardsley, but also more typical strikers like David Hirst and Brian Deane. He was open-minded about the type of forward he required, because first-choice striker Mark Hughes was a one-in-three rather than one-in-two goalscorer, and many suggested he needed to play alongside a ruthless goalscorer, prompting Ferguson’s interest in Alan Shearer before he joined Blackburn that summer. But Cantona was for sale when others weren’t, and joined United for the ludicrously small fee of £1.2m – incredible considering Ferguson had unsuccessfully offered over £3m for Hirst.

The purchase of a player in Cantona’s mould revolutionised United’s tactical approach overnight. While Ferguson unquestionably deserves enormous credit for United’s success during this period, his side lacked a defined style until the Frenchman’s arrival. Ferguson encouraged attack-minded football with width, in keeping with United’s traditions – but there was a rudimentary approach in the final third, epitomised by the time winger Andrei Kanchelskis stormed off the training pitch in frustration at yet another crossing drill, muttering ‘English football is shit’ on his way – not an unreasonable comment at the time. Ferguson was considered a man-manager rather than a footballing philosopher or astute tactician. Schmeichel, who would become Cantona’s roommate on away trips, summarised Cantona’s first training session concisely. ‘From that day, Manchester United’s style of play changed,’ he said. ‘The arrival of Cantona suddenly made it clear to the coaching staff exactly how the team should play to be successful.’ Cantona was the catalyst for United’s revolution, and their success set the tone for the tactical development of rival Premier League clubs, which was initially accelerated by the influence of inspirational foreign players rather than managerial philosophies.

Cantona was capable of playing either as a traditional centre-forward or as a playmaker, having filled both roles at various stages of his career. For United, he was generally used in the number 10 role behind a traditional striker, effectively turning United’s 4–4–2 system into a 4–4–1–1. The Premier League had very few deep-lying forwards in this mould; Teddy Sheringham, who would later replace Cantona at United, became renowned as an excellent ‘withdrawn’ forward, although at this stage was more of a target man, winning the inaugural Premier League Golden Boot with 22 goals, having transferred from Nottingham Forest to Tottenham three games into the campaign. Southampton’s Matt Le Tissier was in a similar mould to Cantona, but was suffering under the management of Ian Branfoot, who wanted his defenders to thump long balls downfield. Neither Sheringham nor Le Tissier had yet been capped by England. Peter Beardsley, another of Ferguson’s targets, was the most similar type of forward, although often found himself out of the Everton side. Besides, Beardsley lacked Cantona’s flamboyance and wasn’t superstar material – he was among the quietest, humblest players in the top flight, whereas Cantona was surely the most arrogant, albeit with some justification.

English football was historically suspicious of deep-lying forwards, despite the likes of Ferenc Puskás and Diego Maradona causing the national team so much misery over the years. It was considered a foreign role, and extravagance in English football was usually the domain of tricky wingers, with Tom Finney, Stanley Matthews and George Best among the most revered players. Even Paul Gascoigne, England’s most talented player of this era, was a number 8 rather than a number 10, a midfielder who burst forward from deep. It was unfortunate the Premier League didn’t witness Gascoigne at his best: he spent its first six years with Lazio and then Rangers, only returning to England with Middlesbrough and Everton in his thirties. Ferguson, incidentally, says being beaten by Spurs to Gascoigne’s signature in 1988 is one of his biggest regrets in football, and Gascoigne would later phone Ferguson in the summer of 1995 (when Cantona was serving his eight-month ban and intending to leave England) begging for a move to United. Ferguson, however, concentrated on convincing Cantona to stay.

Ferguson had a close relationship with Cantona throughout his five years at Old Trafford. Whereas Ferguson took a schoolmasterly approach to the majority of his players, Cantona was afforded the rare privilege of a cup of tea with his manager before training every day, and while it’s difficult to imagine anyone entirely understood Cantona, Ferguson came closest. Managers often suggest the toughest part of their job is affording star players special treatment without prompting dissent from the rest of the squad, and Ferguson quickly realised he needed to make allowances for Cantona, sparing him from blasts of ‘the hairdryer’, as Manchester United players called Ferguson’s tendency to scream in their faces after bad performances.

Winger Lee Sharpe tells an amusing, revealing anecdote about the United squad’s reception at Manchester Town Hall shortly after their first title victory. The rest of the squad wore smart black suits, but Sharpe arrived in an olive-green silk outfit with a green tie. This inevitably prompted Ferguson to come over and admonish him, at which point Cantona strolled into the room with a suit, no tie – and red Nike trainers. Ferguson let out a cry of frustration and simply stormed off. A similar incident occurred when Ferguson was about to criticise Sharpe for getting a skinhead haircut on a pre-season tour, only to suddenly notice Cantona had the same, forcing him to bite his tongue. ‘There were times when the different treatment Eric got was laughable,’ Sharpe complained. ‘It was one set of rules for him, and another for the likes of me.’ After Cantona’s infamous kung-fu kick at Selhurst Park, Ferguson’s first instinct in the dressing room afterwards was to complain about sloppy defending for Crystal Palace’s equaliser.

In general, footballers accept a star teammate being indulged, and on the pitch Cantona was effectively handed a free role with licence to roam wherever he pleased. He contributed little in defensive situations, as Roy Keane later recalled. ‘Often we’d give him a bollocking for not tracking back. We certainly did more than our share of running for him. Then, just when exasperation was being felt, and expressed, Eric would produce a bit of magic to turn the game our way.’ English football was learning that players in Cantona’s mould were worth embracing, worth freeing from defensive responsibilities, and a footballing culture that valued hard work and commitment above everything else was forced to reconsider its principles. United’s youth coach Eric Harrison, upon first seeing Cantona in training, said he ‘wanted to kidnap him and spend a week talking to him about football’.

Tactically, opponents simply weren’t structured for stopping Cantona. Ordinarily, centre-backs were fighting against centre-forwards, and central midfielders were involved in running battles with their opposite numbers. Players like Cantona, who interpreted the game differently and dropped into the space between opposition defenders and midfielders, were able to enjoy plenty of time on the ball. ‘Eric, no matter the tempo or the maelstrom of Premier League football,’ Ferguson said, ‘has that ability to put his foot on the ball and to make his passes. That in itself is almost a miracle.’ So much of this, however, was simply about Cantona’s initial positioning, combined with his ability to hold off defenders when they approached. Previously, United had focused on attacking down the flanks, or hitting longer passes to centre-forward Hughes, who was superb at bringing down high balls and feeding teammates. But Cantona orchestrated United’s attacking play wonderfully, and like the very best number 10s – particularly Maradona, but also, in Premier League terms, Dennis Bergkamp and Gianfranco Zola – was a selfless footballer who recognised that his individual freedom should be used for the collective good.

In addition to Cantona’s on-field contribution, he was also a tremendous example to his teammates in training. He insisted upon some level of autonomy – his own warm-up routines before joining in with the other players’ warm-up, for example – but United teammates agree he raised the standard of training considerably. His professionalism inspired the club’s emerging youngsters, including the ‘class of ’92’, featuring Giggs, David Beckham, Nicky Butt, Paul Scholes, and Gary and Phil Neville, surely the greatest set of footballers ever produced by an English youth academy.

‘During my time at Manchester United I was lucky enough to have a lot of people who put in countless extra hours to get better,’ Ferguson wrote in his autobiography. ‘Gary Neville turned himself from an average footballer into a wonderful one because of his work ethic, as did David Beckham. I remember Eric’s first day, and after the training session had finished he asked for a goalkeeper, two players from the junior team who were still there, and a few footballs. I asked him what he needed those for, and he said he wanted to practise. When word got back to the other players, one or two more turned up the next day for an extra session and so the number grew. That was all because of Cantona’s work ethic and influence.’ Phil Neville has a slightly different interpretation, which makes more sense considering there are plenty of tales about the incredible dedication of him, his brother and Beckham before Cantona joined. He says that Cantona didn’t inspire the youngsters to work hard – they did that already – but he made it ‘acceptable’ to do so, ensuring they weren’t seen as teacher’s pets by experienced members of the squad.

Where it counted, on the pitch, Cantona made an immediate difference. His stunning, instant impact is occasionally overlooked: he arrived at Old Trafford in late November 1992 with United in eighth place, nine points behind surprise leaders Norwich City, having scored a pitiful 17 goals in 16 league games. A title challenge was unthinkable. But with Cantona’s arrival United’s scoring rate doubled and they rose to top of the table after the first game in January.

Manchester United’s most famous victory during the title run-in was unquestionably their 2–1 victory over Sheffield Wednesday at Old Trafford, when United found themselves 1–0 down going into the final five minutes, before two headers from centre-back Steve Bruce produced an unlikely turnaround. Bruce’s second arrived deep into an unusually extended period of stoppage time – the referee had been replaced because of injury – which was the start of Manchester United’s habit of scoring crucial late goals throughout the Premier League era, and gave rise to the expression ‘Fergie time’. Ferguson and his assistant Brian Kidd famously spilled onto the Old Trafford pitch in their jubilant celebration of a winner that put Manchester United top of the table, a status they wouldn’t relinquish. However, United’s most tactically significant victory occurred five days earlier, away at Norwich. This display would dictate the big-game approach under Ferguson for years to come, and is the single most influential team performance in the history of the Premier League.

For a significant period of 1992/93, Norwich were title favourites. They’d been the first Premier League leaders after a surprise 4–2 victory over Arsenal, which appeared nothing more than a freak opening-day result, Norwich having only escaped relegation on the final day of the previous season and being widely tipped for the drop having sold star striker Robert Fleck to Chelsea. However, Norwich’s key man was actually Mike Walker, a likeable, calm, silver-haired Welshman and among the most promising managers in the country. In an era when route one remained dominant, Norwich’s passing football, their tendency to score spectacular goals and their underdog status ensured they became the neutral’s favourite. Other Premier League managers were man-managers and disciplinarians, but Walker loved discussing tactics and offered a clear, forward-thinking philosophy. He’d been dismissed from his only previous managerial job, at Colchester, because his chairman considered Walker’s brand of passing football ‘too soft’ for the lower leagues – despite the fact Colchester were only one point from the top of Division Four. Walker claimed he was ‘happy to win every match 4–3’, although Norwich actually suffered several heavy defeats and, peculiarly, finished in third place despite a goal difference of –4.

Norwich’s default formation was 4–4–2, but it was a flexible system most notable for the advanced positioning of the two full-backs, Mark Bowen and Ian Culverhouse. Right-winger Ruel Fox was among the quickest wingers in the league, central midfielder Ian Crook boasted a fine passing range and Mark Robins banged in the goals up front. They were the Premier League’s first good footballing side, and when they defeated Wimbledon 2–1 in December, their lead at the top was an incredible eight points after 18 games.

But then Norwich somehow failed to score in their next five games, almost proving the old-fashioned British dogma that continental football wasn’t suitable when winter arrived and pitches became boggy. Norwich recovered to play a significant part in the title fight, and started April top of the Premier League once again, with Aston Villa and Manchester United a point behind. The Canaries’ next fixture was a home match against Ferguson’s side, and while Villa couldn’t be ignored, this felt like a title decider. United appeared to be wobbling; winless in four matches, and without suspended centre-forward Hughes. It was widely anticipated that Ferguson would introduce veteran Bryan Robson in central midfield, with Brian McClair returning to the striking role he’d played before Cantona’s arrival.

Instead, McClair stayed in midfield alongside Paul Ince, and Ferguson deployed three natural wingers at Carrow Road, with Andrei Kanchelskis in the same team as Sharpe and Giggs, who essentially played as a centre-forward in advance of Cantona. The outcome was a quite astonishing spell of counter-attacking football, with Norwich dominating possession but United scoring on the break three times in the first 21 minutes.

The goals were incredibly direct. For the opener, Schmeichel typically hurled the ball 40 yards to Sharpe, on the left, who prodded the ball with the outside of his left foot to Cantona, waiting between the lines. The Frenchman controlled the ball, paused briefly as he waited for midfield runners, then played a through-ball that found no fewer than three United players – Sharpe, Ince and Giggs – beating Norwich’s offside trap simultaneously. Giggs collected the ball, rounded goalkeeper Bryan Gunn, could have passed, but rolled the ball home himself. From penalty box to goal in 12 seconds and eight touches.

The second featured even better interplay. Schmeichel moved to collect a loose ball inside the penalty area, but Steve Bruce thumped it to the right – straight to Kanchelskis, who volleyed the ball into the centre circle for Ince, who volleyed it back out to Giggs, who knocked the ball backwards for McClair, whose first-time pass found Kanchelskis running through on goal. The Russian winger had Cantona in support, but dribbled past Gunn and converted. From penalty box to goal again in 14 seconds and nine touches.

Just a minute later, Ince – the man supposedly anchoring the midfield behind five attackers – collected a loose ball in central midfield and immediately stormed past one, two, three challenges, bore down on Gunn and then flicked the ball right for Cantona, who fired into an empty net. This time, the move had only started from midway inside United’s half, but it took nine seconds and six touches for the ball to end up in the net.

The counter-attacking looked so simple; United simply waited for Norwich to push forward, then attacked into space with frightening speed. Each time they broke in behind with multiple players, each time they took Gunn out of the game before converting into an open goal. ‘We were a good counter-attacking side, but our performance exceeded even our own expectations,’ raved Bruce. ‘The speed and incisiveness of our movement, the quality of the passing, it was right out of the top drawer and Norwich couldn’t live with it.’

Ferguson could barely contain his excitement, saying, ‘Some of our football was breathtaking, unbelievable stuff,’ while Cantona later provided the best summary. ‘That was the turning point,’ he said. ‘We played a perfect game. We played perfect football.’ United went on to win the title, and that performance pointed the way to Premier League glory. Had Norwich defeated United and gone on to win the title themselves, their incredible underdog success might have popularised possession football. Instead, inspiration came from United’s speed.

Manchester United’s first Premier League title was achieved when things fell into place almost accidentally, but the following season, 1993/94, saw them reach a different level entirely. Players often remark upon the difficulty of defending a title – there’s less motivation to succeed, and opponents up their game against the champions – but Ferguson, who had retained the Scottish title with Aberdeen in the mid-1980s, astutely ensured his players maintained their desire. Before the start of the campaign he announced to United’s squad that he had a sealed envelope in his office drawer, containing a piece of paper with a list of players he believed lacked the hunger to win a second title. The trick proved highly effective, with his players determined to prove him wrong.

Ferguson, typically for this period, canvassed the views of his players about potential new recruits, and after they unanimously agreed that Nottingham Forest’s Roy Keane was a top-class midfielder, Ferguson broke the British transfer record to make one of his most important signings. This changed the balance of United – with McClair relegated to the bench, Keane formed a brilliantly aggressive, combative central midfield partnership with Ince. Cantona’s influence was naturally greater because he was present from the outset, while Giggs became a greater goal threat from the left and Kanchelskis, peripheral in the previous campaign, was outstanding down the right. Such was the emphasis upon battling central midfielders and electric wingers, some journalists depicted United’s formation as 4–2–4, although in reality it was a 4–4–1–1, and not dissimilar to the 4–2–3–1 that only became a recognised Premier League system a decade later.

United were utterly dominant throughout 1993/94. Within the opening fortnight they’d won away at their two title rivals from the previous campaign, Norwich and Aston Villa, and topped the table from the end of August onwards. They only lost twice until the end of March, both against Chelsea – although United defeated them 4–0 in the FA Cup Final, which clinched the club’s first-ever double. Ferguson’s first-choice XI played together 13 times, and won 13 times.

Subsequent United teams would become more cultured, particularly when Paul Scholes and David Beckham emerged to provide passing quality from midfield, which helped United progress in Europe. But in Premier League terms, Ferguson’s 1993/94 first-choice XI was perfectly suited to the week-in, week-out challenges of a division still based around physical football, with tough tackles, poor pitches and 42 games – four more than from 1995/96 onwards, when the division was reduced from 22 to 20 teams. They were ‘real tough bastards’ in Ferguson’s words, and he later suggested that his 1993/94 side were as good as the treble winners of five years later.

Manchester United’s 4–4–1–1, with combative central midfielders and speedsters out wide, would essentially become the standard tactical template throughout the Premier League’s first decade. The difficult part for teams hoping to follow in their footsteps, however, was obvious: finding their Cantona.