Читать книгу The Mixer: The Story of Premier League Tactics, from Route One to False Nines - Michael Cox - Страница 12

‘I’ll tell you, honestly, I will love it if we beat them. Love it.’

Kevin Keegan

Sir Alex Ferguson famously described his greatest challenge at Manchester United as ‘knocking Liverpool right off their fucking perch’. He had turned United into English football’s dominant side, and they would eventually overtake Liverpool in terms of league titles. During the mid-90s, however, United’s greatest title fights were not against Liverpool, but against clubs managed by two ex-Liverpool forwards: Kenny Dalglish’s Blackburn Rovers in 1994/95 and Kevin Keegan’s Newcastle United in 1995/96.

Under these managers, Blackburn and Newcastle did everything a year apart. Dalglish had taken charge of second-tier Blackburn in 1991 and achieved promotion in 1992. Keegan took charge of second-tier Newcastle in 1992 and won promotion in 1993. Blackburn hadn’t won the championship since 1928, Newcastle not since 1927. There were similarities between Keegan and Dalglish, too; they were born within a month of one another in 1951, and when Keegan left Liverpool for Hamburg in 1977, his replacement up front was Dalglish.

Tactically, both sides played 4–4–2, concentrating upon width, crosses and a towering number 9, and there was also a common link in defensive midfielder David Batty, who came into the side towards the end of both Blackburn’s 1994/95 triumph and Newcastle’s 1995/96 campaign. Both clubs, meanwhile, suffered a significant late-season slump during their title challenge. That might sound peculiar, considering Blackburn triumphed in 1994/95 and Newcastle are remembered as ‘bottlers’ for blowing a 12-point lead the following season, but Blackburn’s collapse had been equally dramatic. They contrived to lose three of their final five games during their title-winning season, including a dramatic final-day defeat at Anfield, where even Liverpool supporters wanted Blackburn to win, to deny rivals Manchester United another title and to witness Dalglish, an Anfield legend, lift the trophy.

Left-back Graeme Le Saux later outlined the extent of Blackburn’s nerves in the final weeks, admitting that the players became obsessed with Manchester United and claiming that Dalglish didn’t know how to control the situation. At half-time on that final day at Anfield, winger Stuart Ripley sat down in the dressing room and declared he was so nervous he couldn’t get his legs to work properly. Blackburn were saved by Manchester United’s failure to win away at West Ham. In the ‘bottling it’ stakes, therefore, there was minimal difference between Blackburn in 1994/95 and Newcastle in 1995/96 – aside from the fact that Dalglish convinced the outside world he had things under control, while Keegan had a meltdown live on TV with his famous ‘I will love it if we beat them’ rant.

Dalglish and Keegan were primarily man-managers and motivators rather than tacticians or training-ground coaches; they attracted players through their reputation as legendary players and broadly left them to their own devices. The most significant difference was the nature of their assistants. Dalglish’s only previous managerial post was at Liverpool, where he maintained the pass-and-move football his predecessors had introduced. At Blackburn, however, he was starting from scratch, and with more limited players, so his approach was much simpler. Dalglish decided he wouldn’t take charge of Blackburn without Ray Harford, widely considered one of the most intelligent, inventive English coaches of his generation.

Harford boasted managerial experience, having been promoted from assistant to manager at Fulham, Luton (where he won the League Cup) and Wimbledon. He would later succeed Dalglish at Blackburn, too. His Luton and Wimbledon sides were renowned for their direct football, and he provided the coaching expertise that Dalglish lacked for creating a straightforward but effective crossing side. Dalglish said his ‘coaching, organisation, his deep knowledge of football’ made him the perfect assistant, and Harford took almost every Blackburn training session, concentrating heavily upon ‘pattern of play’ sessions that improved Blackburn’s passing and movement.

Keegan, on the other hand, appointed his old Liverpool teammate Terry McDermott. Not only did McDermott, like Keegan, boast absolutely no previous coaching experience, he also had no coaching badges, had no intention of becoming a coach and had recently been spotted manning a burger van at a racecourse. ‘He’s not here in any capacity other than to help the atmosphere of the club,’ said Keegan, who personally paid for McDermott’s employment from his own salary. McDermott concentrated on taking players aside after training and improving a specific part of their technique. Blackburn had an assistant manager who took every training session and focused upon the collective, while Newcastle’s assistant manager didn’t take any sessions and focused upon individuals. Ultimately, that was a perfect microcosm of the sides’ approaches.

Blackburn were new kids on the block. Before the Premier League era they hadn’t featured in the top flight since before England won the World Cup, even dropping into the third tier during the 1970s. Their sudden rise owed much to the wealth of Jack Walker, a Blackburn-born millionaire who had inherited Walkersteel, a scrap-metal business, from his father and turned it into the largest steel stockholder in Britain. His munificence explains how second-tier Blackburn managed to attract Dalglish, already a multiple title winner as both player and manager with Liverpool, and how, having won promotion in time for the Premier League’s inaugural campaign, they promptly finished fourth, second and then first. Dalglish insists Blackburn’s title wasn’t solely about Walker’s millions, with some justification – although the signings of centre-forwards Alan Shearer and Chris Sutton both broke the record for the highest transfer fee paid by a British club. Both were old-fashioned number 9s who thrived on crosses, in keeping with Blackburn’s simple footballing approach, and they quickly became nicknamed ‘the SAS’ because of their ruthlessness in front of goal. They contributed 49 goals during Blackburn’s title-winning campaign and remain arguably the Premier League’s most famous strike partnership. Their off-field relationship, however, was less successful.

When Shearer signed for Blackburn in 1992 he was befriended by new strike partner Mike Newell on a pre-season tour of Scotland, and as he waited for his wife to move to Lancashire he spent plenty of time at Newell’s house. It was a classic footballing friendship; they played golf together, they travelled to training together, they were roommates on away trips and their great relationship continued on the pitch. Newell had previously been an out-and-out striker, but after Blackburn recruited the country’s hottest young goalscorer, Newell adjusted and played a deeper, supporting role. ‘He was an ideal striking partner, so unselfish and willing to cover every blade of grass,’ Shearer said. ‘Sometimes he gave the impression he would rather lay on goals for me than score himself … with him just behind the attack, opposition teams would push a defender out to mark him and that would give me more room in which to operate. He was a big reason for my success.’ Shearer won the Golden Boot in three of the first five Premier League seasons, and finished on a record 260 Premier League goals.

The arrival of Sutton, who had only recently become a permanent centre-forward at Norwich having often played in defence, changed things in two ways. Most obviously, Newell was the major victim and started just twice in Blackburn’s title-winning season. Meanwhile, Sutton stole Shearer’s thunder, taking his status as Britain’s most expensive player. He briefly became Blackburn’s highest-paid player, too, although Blackburn immediately handed Shearer a rise to reflect his seniority. ‘Suddenly, Alan was being asked to play with a guy who wanted to score as many goals as him,’ said Le Saux. ‘That was when I saw a side of Alan that I wasn’t keen on … Alan knew his relationship with Mike revolved around himself, and neither he nor Mike reacted well when Chris broke up their partnership.’

Sutton, a fearsome striker but a sensitive character who occasionally lacked confidence, later recalled the ‘lack of warmth’ from Shearer, blaming his friendship with Newell. When Sutton hit a hat-trick in a 4–0 victory over Coventry in Blackburn’s third game of the season, he was upset when Shearer didn’t celebrate with him. Publically, Dalglish insisted there were no problems between his two star strikers, but with Blackburn’s attacking play no longer based entirely around him, Shearer wasn’t best pleased.

It was nevertheless a stunningly effective strike partnership. Blackburn’s opening goal of their title-winning season, away at Southampton, set the scene. Captain Tim Sherwood lofted a long pass into the box, Sutton nodded the ball down, and Shearer smashed the ball home. Simple, but effective. Blackburn now had two strikers in the penalty box whenever possible, and without Newell playing the link role, focused heavily on getting the ball wide and sending in a stream of crosses.

As much as the SAS, Blackburn’s football was defined by their two wingers. Right-sided Stuart Ripley and left-sided Jason Wilcox were classic, touchline-hugging dribblers who sprinted to the byline and hung crosses into the box. As Dalglish put it, they were ‘proper wingers, not wide midfielders’. Nor were they goalscorers like Manchester United’s pairing of Ryan Giggs and Andrei Kanchelskis, who were capable of reaching double figures in a season, but rather facilitators, assisters and, unlike many wingers, extremely hard workers without the ball. Blackburn’s central midfielders, Sherwood and Mark Atkins (who played the majority of the season before being replaced by Batty, who returned from injury for the final five games), pushed forward in turn, the other protecting the defence. Sherwood was better in possession, Atkins cool in front of goal – the best finisher at the club, according to Dalglish – but they seldom played through-balls and instead passed calmly out wide. It was a system ‘designed for a centre-forward to score goals’, as Shearer said.

Critics claimed Blackburn’s approach play was too predictable, but opponents found it difficult to stop, partly because of the cohesive interplay stemming from the training sessions directed by Harford, whose favourite phrase was simply ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ Blackburn’s training ground, incidentally, was astonishingly basic: a patch of land covered in dog mess, with no changing facilities. The players drove to Ewood Park, got changed, then drove to training. Most problematically, the training ground was adjacent to a cemetery, so sessions were frequently interrupted out of respect when a hearse slowly crept up the driveway. Harford’s ‘pattern of play’ sessions involved Blackburn lining up in their 4–4–2 formation on the training pitch, and practising their build-up play. Their passing and movement was very structured and always ended with Blackburn working the ball into crossing positions.

There were three major approaches. Ideally, Blackburn found a winger in a position to dribble forward, their most obvious route to goal. If not, the wingers were instructed to come short, bringing the opposition full-back up the pitch and allowing Shearer or Sutton to drift wide into space. Shearer implored Sutton to do the majority of the running so he could remain in the penalty box, but actually became an excellent crosser himself, ending the campaign as Blackburn’s most prolific assister as well as their top scorer. Finally, Dalglish and Harford recognised that full-backs were the players with the most time on the ball when 4–4–2 played 4–4–2, invariably the battle of formations during this period. Right-back Henning Berg was more of a converted centre-back, so there was a huge emphasis on left-back Le Saux to push forward, and he had a fine relationship with Wilcox and Shearer, supplying many key assists, most notably hanging a cross up for Shearer to nod home in Blackburn’s penultimate match of the campaign, a 1–0 victory over Newcastle.

Crucially, Harford demanded that crosses were played from what he termed ‘the magic box’, the space in the final 18 yards, as if the penalty area extended across the entire width of the pitch. Shearer disagreed with this concept and was confident he could convert crosses played from deeper – the type of ball David Beckham would later supply him with at international level – but Harford believed crosses from advanced positions created better chances, and Wilcox and Ripley depended upon getting into this ‘magic box’ to a staggering extent. Midway through the title-winning season, Dalglish called Ripley aside in training and attempted to devise a plan B. Eventually, he reasoned, opposition full-backs would work out Blackburn’s plan and usher Ripley and Wilcox inside. In that situation, 40 yards from goal, in a narrower position and forced onto his weaker foot, Dalglish asked where Ripley wanted the strikers to position themselves to be a target for crosses. Ripley looked at him blankly. ‘Are you taking the piss?’ he asked. No, insisted Dalglish. Ripley thought about it some more. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. The thought had never occurred to him; Blackburn’s wingers literally only knew how to play one way.

Blackburn’s tactical naivety was highlighted when they encountered continental opposition. In the opening round of the UEFA Cup, the club’s first-ever game in European competition, they were drawn against Swedish part-timers Trelleborg. The nature of Trelleborg read like a stereotypical ‘European minnow’ checklist; they boasted just one full-time professional footballer, alongside a carpenter, a shopkeeper and an insurance salesman. They’d recently lost a domestic cup tie to third-division opposition, and had progressed through the UEFA Cup qualifying round with an unspectacular victory over the champions of the Faroe Islands. They arrived at Ewood Park to discover their kit clashed with Blackburn’s, so were forced to borrow Rovers’ red away shorts. Journalists had researched Blackburn’s record victory, suspecting it could be surpassed, while the Swedes later claimed they would have considered a 2–0 defeat a decent result. Instead, Trelleborg’s Frederik Sandell latched onto strike partner Joachim Karlsson’s flick-on to score the game’s only goal. Trelleborg defended deeper than anyone Blackburn faced in the Premier League and focused on doubling up against Blackburn’s wingers. ‘If you were organised you could stop them,’ said captain Jonas Brorsson.

‘There was potentially a bit of naivety in the way we played,’ Ripley later recalled. ‘We were steamrollering teams in England and I think we tried to do the same, but they came with a defensive formation and nicked the win.’ Le Saux, meanwhile, admitted Blackburn’s style didn’t suit European competition. The second leg finished 2–2 – the SAS both scored close-range efforts in the aftermath of set-pieces – and ten-man Trelleborg progressed 3–2 on aggregate. The early exit emphasised English clubs’ tactical inadequacy, but allowed Blackburn to concentrate on domestic football.

There were no defining victories during Blackburn’s title campaign – they lost home and away to their closest challengers, Manchester United, and stuttered badly during the run-in, but their simple approach proved enough to consistently defeat run-of-the-mill Premier League sides. Blackburn weren’t doing anything different, they were simply doing it in an extremely cohesive manner, with excellent players. Six of their starting XI (goalkeeper Tim Flowers, commanding centre-back Colin Hendry plus Le Saux, Sherwood, Sutton and Shearer) featured in the PFA Team of the Year, which was announced before Blackburn sealed their title.

Manchester United had clinched the first two Premier League titles anticlimactically when rivals slipped up, but 14 May 1995 was truly memorable, as the Premier League’s first final-day decider. Blackburn went 1–0 up at Liverpool when Shearer typically converted Ripley’s right-wing cross, and had Rovers maintained that scoreline, they were champions regardless of United’s result. But Liverpool produced an unlikely turnaround, with Jamie Redknapp’s superb late free-kick confirming a 2–1 home victory. Dalglish spent much of the second half watching a TV close to the dugouts, showing the action from Manchester United’s game at Upton Park: Sir Alex Ferguson’s decision to play a lone striker backfired, and West Ham’s Ludĕk Mikloško provided one of the Premier League’s all-time great goalkeeping displays. United could only draw 1–1, which meant Blackburn’s defeat was irrelevant – they were champions. Dalglish was congratulated by old friends from Liverpool’s backroom staff, Shearer and Sutton warmly embraced, Sherwood lifted the trophy.

For all this incredible drama, Blackburn’s previous visit to Merseyside was more significant stylistically. On April Fools’ Day, Blackburn stormed into an early 2–0 lead at Everton; the first goal came inside 13 seconds, then the quickest to date in the Premier League, when Berg’s long ball was headed on by Sutton, then by Shearer, and Sutton fired home. The second came after a free-kick found Sutton, who stumbled and allowed Shearer to fire home. It was textbook Blackburn. But then, after Graham Stuart got Everton back into the game with a stupendous chip, Blackburn embarked upon a remarkably blatant display of cynical football, concentrating upon breaking up play and time wasting. It was an incredibly fierce, frantic contest, with the highlight an incredible goalmouth scramble in front of Tim Flowers, which featured no fewer than 14 players inside Blackburn’s six-yard box. The climax saw Shearer thumping a clearance so far that he nearly sent the ball out of Goodison Park entirely. At full-time, Everton’s fans booed Blackburn off. Dalglish couldn’t care less about whether opposition supporters appreciated his side’s style of play. To him it was three points, and job done.

In stark contrast, when Kevin Keegan was asked for his favourite memory from Newcastle’s ‘nearly’ campaign of 1995/96, he recalled his players being applauded onto the pitch by opposition fans during the final few days of the season, away at Leeds and Nottingham Forest. Dalglish called his Blackburn side the ‘people’s champions’, playing on their underdog status, but Newcastle were the true neutral’s favourite, a team who played enthralling, attack-minded football. Keegan’s impact during this period was incredible; he took the club from the bottom-half of the second tier to the top of the Premier League, galvanising a whole city. Newcastle’s shirts displayed the blue star of the Newcastle Brown Ale logo, their goalkeeper’s shirt during 1995/96 depicted the city’s skyline, while Keegan spoke about the club’s cultural importance to the city in a manner that recalled Barcelona. At times their football was comparable too, and Newcastle were referred to as, simply, The Entertainers.

Newcastle earned that nickname a couple of seasons earlier, with a 4–2 victory over Sheffield Wednesday, but 1995/96 took things to a new level, and Newcastle’s title challenge was somehow befitting of British pop culture at the time. 1996 was the year of England hosting, and threatening to win, Euro 96, soundtracked by Baddiel and Skinner’s ‘Three Lions’. 1996 was when Britpop still reigned supreme. 1996 saw the launch of Chris Evans’s TFI Friday, a programme based largely around wackiness, and the debut of the loud, extroverted Spice Girls. 1996 was the year of Trainspotting, a film about a group of heroin addicts that managed to become a feelgood story. Somehow 1997 felt very different, a melancholy year dominated by the film Titanic, Radiohead’s OK Computer and the death of Princess Diana. 1996 was about mad-for-it extravagance, and here were Keegan’s Newcastle, The Entertainers, playing all-out-attack football with no regard for the consequences.

Newcastle started the season, like Blackburn the previous year, with tactics based around crossing. Left-winger David Ginola was signed from Paris Saint-Germain and bamboozled opposition right-backs with his pace and ambidexterity, able to receive the ball with his back to goal, before spinning either way, cutting inside or going down the touchline. He won Player of the Month immediately. On the opposite flank Keith Gillespie was a typical winger of that period, always reaching the byline. Keegan’s instructions to his wingers were simple: new signing Les Ferdinand was the best target man in the business, and he was to be supplied with constant crosses. ‘The way the side was playing, with Ginola on the left and Gillespie on the right, was ideal for a striker like me,’ Ferdinand recalled. ‘Both David and Keith were raining balls into the penalty area from all over the place.’

Surprisingly for such an aerial threat, Ferdinand was only five foot 11, but was blessed with a prodigious leap. He hit 21 league goals by mid-February, while Keegan encouraged him to develop his game and bring teammates into play, having become frustrated with his predecessor Andy Cole’s single-mindedness. Whereas Blackburn used two target men up front, Keegan played Peter Beardsley in a deep-lying forward role, linking attacks. With Rob Lee bursting forward from central midfield, this was the most complete attacking force the Premier League had witnessed. Newcastle started at an incredible pace, attempting to win matches within the opening half hour, and weren’t involved in a single goalless draw all season. ‘The Entertainers’ tag, however, also underlined Newcastle’s defensive frailties. Keegan had openly preached a ‘you score two, we’ll score three’ philosophy, although the defining game in Newcastle’s season – and the most memorable in the Premier League era – was the defeat at Liverpool in April, which was ‘we’ll score three, you score four’. Many attributed Newcastle’s title failure to their leaky defence, although the truth is more complex.

Keegan made no attempt to hide his attacking approach. He was determined to satisfy the Geordies’ thirst for positive football, and considered himself part of a wider movement to make football more exciting, at a time when managers frequently highlighted the fact their team had ‘put on a show’ when matches were live on Sky. ‘A lot of forwards are coming into management,’ he said at the time. ‘You look at Brian Little, Glenn Hoddle, myself. We are all forwards who wouldn’t really know enough about defending to coach it.’ It was a selective argument, though. Arsenal boss George Graham had been a forward, then later an attacking midfielder so languid he was nicknamed ‘Stroller’, but he had assembled the most disciplined defence in English football.

Keegan’s defenders were, originally, midfielders and attackers. It’s common for players to be shifted into a different position as they develop, but Newcastle’s situation was quite remarkable, particularly with their three main centre-backs. Darren Peacock had been a centre-forward in the Bristol Rovers youth team. Steve Howey had risen through Newcastle’s ranks as an attacking midfielder, occasionally used in defence during training – but when Keegan arrived, he told Howey he was either a centre-back or he was leaving. Belgian Philippe Albert, meanwhile, started his career as a midfielder and was recruited on the strength of his displays at the 1994 World Cup, where he continually brought the ball forward from the back. Keegan, working as a TV pundit for the tournament, witnessed him score against both the Netherlands and Germany, and snapped him up.

First-choice full-backs Warren Barton and John Beresford were encouraged to push forward simultaneously and, by the end of the campaign, were replaced by hometown lads Steve Watson and Robbie Elliott, both forwards when rising through the ranks at Newcastle. Another Geordie, holding midfielder Lee Clark, had played an attacking midfield role the previous season, hence his number 10 shirt. It was, more or less, a team of forwards, as Keegan acknowledges in an admirably honest passage from his autobiography. ‘Were my full-backs too adventurous? Yes! Were my centre-backs too skilful, better going forward than going back? Yes! But that is what we built.’ That was that, and Keegan wasn’t going to change. Towards the end of the campaign, his back four – Watson, Howey, Peacock and Beresford – approached him, suggesting they were being overrun and Newcastle should play more cautiously. Keegan’s response to the critique was simple – ‘Do you wanna play on Saturday?’

He ignored defending to a remarkable extent. Newcastle had a rare defensive training session ahead of the long trip down to Southampton in September, lost 1–0, and Keegan never bothered with defensive drills again. Later, after Newcastle failed to win the Premier League, Keegan appointed former Liverpool defender and BBC pundit Mark Lawrenson as a defensive coach. Lawrenson, however, spent his time merely observing training and didn’t take a single coaching session under Keegan, at one point confessing to him that he wasn’t sure what he was being paid for. His appointment was Keegan’s attempt to fight the criticism rather than a genuine attempt to fix the problem.

But, amazingly, Newcastle’s defensive record in 1995/96 was actually reasonably good, and that famous 4–3 defeat at Anfield has exaggerated their weakness at the back. They conceded 37 goals in 38 matches, only two more than Manchester United, and considering the subsequent four title winners conceded 44, 33, 37 and 45 goals, Newcastle’s defensive record wasn’t a barrier to success. Instead, their problem was that they didn’t score enough, managing only 66 goals – lower than every single Premier League title winner. The ‘Entertainers’ tag wasn’t entirely true, and for all their individual brilliance, Newcastle lacked cohesion. It wasn’t simply that they ignored defensive work in training, more that they didn’t do any tactical work whatsoever. No work on shape, no work on build-up play, no work on set-pieces. Nothing that makes a group of players into a team.

Training was extremely simple, and the players loved it – as did the supporters. Newcastle used the facilities at Durham University, which meant training was essentially public and often watched by thousands of people during the title run-in. The players would arrive early and play head tennis, with Keegan and McDermott among the most feared doubles partnerships. They’d then play high-intensity, match-speed, small-sided games, the teams often determined by playground-style ‘pick teams’. They would end with skills and shooting drills, and some players would stay behind to work on individual technical aspects. But Newcastle never discussed team shape.

Keegan had a similarly relaxed attitude towards opponents. Alex Ferguson was increasingly adjusting small details to counter an opponent’s strengths and provided specific information on their weaknesses. But Keegan wouldn’t mention Newcastle’s upcoming opponents in training and would simply read out the opposition’s team sheet in the dressing room shortly before the warm-up. He’d add a couple of words to rubbish his opponents – ‘wouldn’t have any of them’, or, if he’d recently signed one of their players, ‘I’ve got the one I wanted.’ It was all about individuals. Ignoring the opposition proved particularly problematic in away matches, where Newcastle were literally only half as good as at St James’ Park – they won 52 points at home, just 26 away.

Keegan’s team talks rarely included specific instructions for coping with the opposition, although there was one notable exception. Ahead of a mid-April meeting with Aston Villa, Keegan realised Brian Little was using three centre-forwards – Dwight Yorke, Savo Milošević and Tommy Johnson – and therefore instructed left-back Beresford to defend narrower, helping Newcastle’s two central defenders. Beresford, however, complained that Keegan was ignoring the knock-on effect; Villa’s right-back, Gary Charles, would overlap into his left-back zone because Ginola wouldn’t track back. Keegan wasn’t interested. When the inevitable repeatedly happened – Charles found space on the right – Keegan shouted instructions to Beresford rather than Ginola. This infuriated Beresford, and the two had a blazing row by the St James’ Park touchline, which ended when Beresford told Keegan to ‘fuck off’, prompting his immediate substitution. ‘You can’t have players saying what he said to me,’ said Keegan afterwards. Beresford had started 32 of the 34 games until that point, but was dropped entirely for the final four games.

The cause of Newcastle’s decline, however, was related to the addition of two signings in the New Year. Unpredictable Colombian forward Faustino Asprilla was signed on a snowy Friday in February, the day before Newcastle made the short trip to Middlesbrough. On matchday Keegan assured Asprilla he wouldn’t be playing, and at lunchtime poured him a glass of wine. But incredibly, the Colombian was introduced as a second-half substitute just hours later and created the equaliser for Watson almost immediately, bamboozling opposition centre-back Steve Vickers with a wonderful Cruyff turn before crossing. Watson pointed to Asprilla in celebration, and his teammates instinctively congratulated the assister rather than the goalscorer. Asprilla had provided Newcastle with a spark.

While his signing is sometimes blamed for Newcastle’s collapse, in the second half of the season Asprilla was Newcastle’s best player. He was fantastic in the unfortunate, and fatal, defeat to Manchester United, when the combination of Peter Schmeichel’s saves and Eric Cantona’s finish resulted in a barely deserved 1–0 win for the eventual champions. He was pivotal in the 3–0 victory over West Ham and was Newcastle’s best player in that 4–3 defeat to Liverpool, grabbing a goal and an assist. The problem, though, was that his arrival changed Newcastle’s shape entirely – and Keegan didn’t explain how he wanted his players to adjust. Asprilla was very different to Beardsley, who switched to an unfamiliar right-sided midfield role, and Ferdinand was left perplexed by the change, especially as Asprilla was immediately the main man. ‘I haven’t bought Asprilla to play with you, I’ve bought him for you to play with him,’ Keegan somewhat bluntly told Ferdinand. There were no attempts to get them on the same wavelength in training, and Keegan later told Ferdinand he simply needed to ‘expect the unexpected’ from Asprilla – a reasonable summary of his style, but hardly useful advice. Ferdinand, having been scoring at roughly a goal per game beforehand, now scored one in three.

The Colombian’s full debut coincided with Keegan’s surprise decision to switch from Newcastle’s usual 4–4–2 to a more flexible system often appearing like a 3–5–2 for a 2–0 defeat to West Ham and a hugely entertaining 3–3 draw at Manchester City. The biggest beneficiary was Albert, as the moustachioed Belgian centre-back was deployed as a sweeper with licence to burst forward. Against City he scored twice and created the other for Asprilla, all from open play, a perfect demonstration of how he was a footballing centre-back ahead of his time. Asprilla was Newcastle’s most dangerous attacking weapon in both games, but got away lightly with a one-match ban for elbowing and headbutting City centre-back Keith Curle. ‘He’s from Latin America, that’s the way they are,’ offered Keegan. That dominated the headlines, but the greater issue was that Newcastle’s lack of shape had never been more obvious. Newcastle won 43 per cent of matches with Asprilla, compared with 75 per cent without him.

For the next game, a 1–0 defeat to Manchester United, Newcastle returned to 4–4–2 but boasted another new signing: David Batty, the circumstances of whose arrival were peculiar. Sir John Hall, Newcastle’s chairman, wanted to sign a centre-back to improve Newcastle’s defence. Keegan was having none of that, however, so they compromised and bought a defensive midfielder, which doesn’t seem a particularly logical approach to recruitment. Even Batty was surprised. ‘They were flying at the top of the table and I couldn’t imagine why they’d want to change things,’ he admitted. Batty, a pure defensive midfielder, replaced the forward-thinking Clark, and once again, Newcastle attempted to play similar football with an entirely different player in a key position – the problem, of course, was the system rather than individuals. Batty slowed Newcastle’s passing and didn’t perform his defensive midfield role perfectly either – in the late-season 1–1 draw with Nottingham Forest, for example, Ian Woan dribbled past him easily before smashing into the top corner from 25 yards. Keegan considered Batty an excellent signing – although, typically, believed his long-term future was as a forward-thinking centre-back, bringing the ball forward from deep. Keegan’s logic was that this would allow him to play yet another attacking player in midfield. He simply couldn’t get enough.

Newcastle’s gung-ho approach was epitomised by that 4–3 defeat to Liverpool at Anfield in early April 1996, a game widely considered the Premier League’s greatest. It was an action-packed, end-to-end thriller, the goals starting in the 2nd minute and not ending until the 92nd. Newcastle led for the majority of the contest, both 2–1 and 3–2, but somehow conceded a late-minute winner to Stan Collymore, to leave Keegan slumped over the advertising hoardings.

Newcastle entered the game in disastrous form, having collected just seven points from their previous six matches. Keegan made one change, with Watson replacing Barton at right-back, probably linked to the fact Watson had already scored two winners that season against Liverpool, in the reverse league fixture and the League Cup.

The ludicrously open nature of the contest was summarised by the positioning of Ginola. Newcastle played a 4–4–2 system while Roy Evans’ Liverpool played 3–5–2, which meant an inevitable question about whether or not Ginola would track Liverpool’s right-wingback Jason McAteer. The answer was simple – he didn’t. This had both positive and negative consequences; after Robbie Fowler had opened the scoring and Les Ferdinand equalised, Ginola’s advanced positioning behind McAteer meant he streaked away on a counter-attack. Liverpool’s centre-backs played very narrow, and Ginola had the entire left flank to himself, finishing coolly.

In the second half, however, Liverpool exploited the space behind Ginola, in particular with Steve McManaman’s constant drifts to that flank. He crossed for Fowler to equalise and had another dangerous cross sliced just wide of the far post by Steve Howey. Newcastle raced down the other end and scored again through Asprilla, in part because Liverpool centre-back John Scales had dropped very deep to cope with Ginola’s advanced positioning, playing the Colombian onside. Liverpool soon equalised again with a right-wing cross – this time a beautiful curled ball by McAteer, with Ginola nowhere to be seen. 3–3, and arguably two goals at either end came from Ginola’s positioning. The final five minutes were even more open, after Evans boldly introduced veteran striker Ian Rush for left-wing-back Rob Jones, with Collymore moving left. After interplay between Rush and John Barnes in the centre, the ball was switched wide to Collymore, who smashed home the winner. Liverpool had won the game with the type of attacking gamble that Keegan greatly admired. Keegan loved contributing to such a legendary, attack-minded game. ‘After the match I turned to Terry Mac and said, “I know I should be disappointed, but I’m elated,”’ he later recalled.

Newcastle’s players gave various tactical explanations for their decline. Ferdinand was frustrated the attack was now built around Asprilla. Gillespie believed his omission meant Newcastle weren’t stretching the play properly, something Lee agreed with, as Beardsley wasn’t at home on the right. Goalkeeper Pavel Srníček suggested Batty upset the rhythm of the side, and also accepted that Newcastle were simply found out by better sides in the second half of the campaign. The experiment with Albert as a sweeper in a rough 3–5–2, meanwhile, lasted two games, cost Newcastle five points and was immediately abandoned. Ginola’s decline in the second half of the season was also significant; his defensive sluggishness was criticised, but it wouldn’t have been problematic had he contributed the attacking efficiency of earlier in the season.

More than anything else, however, Newcastle’s problem was their overall lack of cohesion, surely due to omitting any collective work on the training ground. Keegan’s threw together talented individuals and let them run free, which largely worked with a simple, old-fashioned 4–4–2 that everyone knew how to play. But this laissez-faire style proved problematic when Keegan suddenly switched shape, when he signed a different type of centre-forward and a different type of deep midfielder. Newcastle simply didn’t have any tactics; their approach was a consequence of the 11 players Keegan assembled on any particular day.

But while Newcastle ultimately fell short of winning the Premier League, it was unquestionably a glorious failure; the players remain heroes in the city, the team still admired across the country. Keegan’s achievement in taking Newcastle from the second tier to the brink of the title shouldn’t be underestimated, and while naivety may have cost Newcastle the title, the most pertinent story is that they came so close with such basic tactics, highlighting the primitive approach of most Premier League sides at this point.

The title was presented in the north-east – but at Middlesbrough, where Manchester United ended the season with a 3–0 victory. Keegan was magnanimous in defeat, immediately congratulating Manchester United and predicting they would be ‘fantastic representatives of the Premier League in the Champions League’ the following season. It recalled the way he’d referred to Asprilla, upon the Colombian’s arrival, as ‘a real asset to the Premier League – and Newcastle United, I hope’. Perhaps it was just semantics, but it’s difficult to imagine Ferguson, who cultivated an ‘us against the world’ approach, caring about the benefits to the league as a whole.

Newcastle responded to their failure in dramatic fashion, breaking the world transfer record to sign hometown boy Shearer from Blackburn. Keegan lasted just half of the following campaign before suddenly resigning, to be replaced by, inevitably, Dalglish. With Batty, Shearer and Dalglish, it was clear Newcastle were trying to be Blackburn – but tactically, the Premier League was already moving in a different direction.