Get Real Brendan
Rodgers is an illusionist at Anfield
Which Premier League manager reminds you of not just one, but two Danny Kaye songs? Tough one, eh? Well, for those who do not remember Danny Kaye, let alone be familiar with his Greatest Hits album, let us begin there.
Kaye was what is usually described as a “much loved” (i.e. shmaltzy) American entertainer, primarily a song and dance man, with more than a dozen starring Hollywood film credits. The peak of his career was the 1940s and 1950s which is an era bookended by Charlton winning the FA Cup and Wolves earning back-to-back League titles. As there are probably lots of football fans these days who do not know too much football history from that era, asking them about Danny Kaye is probably a bit of a stretch. So let us identify the songs: First is The Ugly Duckling. A staple of the Saturday morning children’s radio request show on the BBC in the 1950s and 60s (remember Uncle Mac you pensioner readers?). This song described the transformation of an unappealing, ugly little chick into a beautiful and admired swan.
In the era of makeovers for everyone from Kim Kardashian to your bin man this ought to be a clue that does not shorten the field much but, then again, a makeover is not something that many managers have actually gone for. Mourinho has had the odd drastic hair cut and traded in the Matalan overcoat a few years back, but you would not see Tony Pulis swapping the baseball cap for a Bob Stokoe trilby or maybe a bandana with a Motorhead logo, would you?
So, think about it – which manager has recently dazzled us (literally in some instances, depending on the lighting level at the Press conferences)?
Still not got it? Then let us look at song number two. Also taken from the film Hans
Christian Andersen it is the story of the “King’s New Clothes” – a salutary tale in which two weavers promise an Emperor a new suit of clothes that is invisible to those unfit for their positions, stupid, or incompetent. The subjects, fearing for their positions, all claim to see the marvellous outfit he is wearing, but when the Emperor parades before his subjects in his new “clothes”, a child cries out,“But he isn’t wearing anything at all!” and all the rest of the crowd feel able to laugh at the ruler. The tale has been translated into over a hundred languages and at one time was universally well known – seemingly not to the current generation of football afficianados or even professionals within the game, as there seem to be quite a few relevant morals evident here. Got the answer to the question now? Well, Brendan Rodgers is not going out quite naked yet, although most Liverpool fans would probably say he had on the sharp suit even if he did, but he is looking pretty exposed on the tactical front. The concern is not that he is failing there (plenty better managers than him have struggled in that regard), it is that he has tried to create an illusion of his own magic formula which, frankly, is no more substantial than the King’s New Clothes. The “Rodgers’ way” of playing is perfectly OK – pass to the nearest red shirt was fine for Shankly and for Paisley and for Dalglish, so why not join the tradition?
Just don’t pretend that you have just thought of it all on your own and thereby disrespect those who have long tried to play that brand of football. To be fair, Rodgers has tried to add the odd wrinkle, probably most obviously withdrawing Steven Gerrard deeper and allowing him more time to “quarterback” the team. For the rest, pace and high pressing are pretty much bog standard features of all the successful teams in the last ten years (and probably a good deal longer).
The problem with technical wrinkles is that their novelty (and success) does not last very long. There are plenty of examples from a lot longer ago than many readers will realise. In the 1950s Manchester City fooled centre halves by withdrawing their centre-forward to a deep lying position, thus giving them no one to mark and creating more space for the forwards themselves. The player in this role was, of course, Don Revie, later the Leeds and England manag-
er (thinking about it, “deep lying” was a useful skill to have learnt given his later selling out of the England job to go to Saudi Arabia).
In the 1960s, Alf Ramsey won Ipswich their only ever League title by withdrawing one winger into midfield, allowing Town more possession. He went a step further as England manager, withdrawing both wingers and, bingo, World Cup victory.
When Terry Venables took over at Barcelona in the 1980s his technical changes to the formation and the importation of Steve Archibald to carry out the role brought an immediate title.
But what do all these examples tell us? That this approach brings no more than one-off success. None of those teams or managers repeated their initial success. Once the novelty has worn off, other teams get wise and stifle the initiative. What is perhaps surprising in Liverpool’s case is that it has taken a whole season to work out that sitting on Stevie G is going to limit the Reds’ creativity big-time. Some readers will recall Bolton adopting this tactic at the Reebok in the mid-2000’s, at a time when Gerrard was a more forward player, with great success until an injury (or was it a sending-off?) enforced a change in the Trotters’ plan and Stevie won the game for Liverpool.
This is why those who say Liverpool missed their chance in season 2013-14 are, sadly, probably right. Not because Suarez has left, not because there are lots of new and less gifted players to bed in, not because Stevie is a year older, not because Roy Hodgson does not know how to handle Daniel Sturridge’s occasionally delicate constitution, but because the Emperor has about as much idea of a ‘Plan B’ as Arsene Wenger does and for all the marvellous football that was played last year, the “Rodgers way” is as much an illusion as it is a reality.