When talent beats the system
FOOTBALL has long harboured an unusual dichotomy. Call it the “system” versus the “individual”. The former contends that if you have balance and tactical nous, if your game plan is sounder than the opposition’s and you execute it well, then you will have the edge. The latter maintains that tactics are all well and good, but it is individuals who have to interpret them. And, therefore, your best chance of winning comes from playing your most gifted players.
It is a debate as old as the game. Ideally, you would have very talented players using very sophisticated and balanced systems but since that is a utopia, you need to fall somewhere on that spectrum between individual excellence and systemic brilliance. The two higher profile Champions League matches last week offered fine examples of this.
Juventus boss Max Allegri insisted on cramming his most talented players into his starting XI, playing two strikers, two attacking wingers (one, Mario Mandzukic, a recycled centreforward) plus an attacking midfielder, Miralem Pjanic, in the hole. At full-back, he picked Alex Sandro and, against his old club, Dani Alves, players who are used to spending the bulk of the game in the opposing half.
This is not what Juventus built their recent success on and it is distinctly un-Italian. But, as Allegri explained before the match, at this level football is about winning one-onone match-ups more than it is about tactical solidity. Particularly against a side like Barcelona, who specialise in breaking down opponents who aim to stop them from playing.
Barca’s approach, weirdly, was the polar opposite. Luis Enrique stuck to the 3-4-3 he has adopted of late, a system which aims to put Lionel Messi at the top of a diamond, with three options ahead of him and freedom to create. That system worked well when he had Rafinha in the front three and Sergio Busquets at the base of the diamond. But both were unavailable against Juventus and their absence severely hampered Barca, leading directly to that 3-0 thumping. In a sense, despite the talents at his disposal, Luis Enrique put the system ahead of the individuals and paid a price.
Real Madrid’s 2-1 victory away at Bayern also saw the individual preferred to the system. Or, rather, Madrid have played the same old 4-3-3 for much of the campaign and weren’t about to change it. Instead, they relied on the fact that, manfor-man, they are simply better than Bayern (particularly a version without Robert Lewandowski) in at least seven positions. It is easy to forget, but players like Luka Modric and Toni Kroos on most other teams would be superstar “No 10” types, rather than the midfield drones they often are at Real.
It is not a foolproof approach, of course. It worked against Bayern, in part because the Bavarians, at home, had to attack and take on the visitors head-on, thereby creating the series of individual battles that ended up favouring Zinedine Zidane’s crew. Maybe, against a head-down, parkthe-bus opponent, a different strategy would have worked better.
Whatever the case, you get the impression that maybe Allegri may be on to something here. Philosophies and systems may win you league titles, but in one-off, knockout formats, perhaps it’s best to let the talent do the talking.
Provided, of course, you have enough of it .
MANCHESTER United entertain Chelsea today at Old Trafford. What’s at stake? For Jose Mourinho, a chance to delay – if not derail – his former club’s march to the Premier League title. For United, an opportunity to show that their home record need not be a curse and, while they have only beaten one top-eight side at the Theatre of Dreams, toppling the league leaders would undoubtedly provide a shot in the arm.
Beyond that, the season will likely end with United somewhere between third and sixth – most likely fifth – with a projected points total of about 72. That would be their highest since Sir Alex Ferguson retired, and it would have been a whole lot higher but for the many points dropped at Old Trafford. Throw in the League Cup and, possibly, the Europa League, and Mourinho will no doubt spin it as a season of progress.
He would be right, too. It may be tricky for some to accept, but United are better today than they have been at any point since Sir Alex left, in part because of the riches lavished on the squad, in part because they have a better manager.
But a legitimate question remains in terms of how you improve this team. One way to look at it is to ask how many players could you confidently expect to be starters in a hypothetical United side capable of challenging for the Champions League in 2018/19?
Given that Zlatan Ibrahimovic likely won’t be around and David de Gea might not be either (it’s hard to believe, despite the denials, that when he extended his contract 18 months ago he would not have inserted a release clause of some kind), you can probably count them on one hand, maybe with a finger or two left over.
This doesn’t necessarily mean Mourinho needs to go on another massive spending spree – though you would imagine he will – but it does suggest he needs to assess carefully what he has and figure out who to build around.
One of the more interesting players in that sense is Marcus Rashford. Has he progressed from last year to this year? His goal tally, eight, is the same, though his minutes on the pitch are way up. That, however, can also be chalked up to the presence of Ibrahimovic diverting the young striker to the wing when he does get on the pitch.
The impression is that, as long as Ibrahimovic remains a fixture in United’s attack, there is little point in keeping Rashford around, unless you see his long-term future as a winger (which Mourinho does not) or you plan on playing him alongside Ibrahimovic (also not part of Mourinho’s plan). Using him as a back-up centre-forward makes little sense, not just because it limits his time on the pitch, but also because when he does come on he will be doing so in a side geared towards a big, strong target man not a fleet-footed forward.
Given all that, the most logical solution – if the aim is to further his development – is to send him on loan, perhaps even abroad. He is still only 19 and discovering and refining his talent. And the reality is Old Trafford next season might not be the best place to do it.
A collection of antique pieces, which I recklessly bought at a bunch of auctions. Expensive clothes that didn’t fit, but that I thought I’d wear when I lost weight ... one of these days. A full set of camera equipment. I had even rigged up a darkroom. What was I thinking? Various tools for my bicycle. An electric guitar and amplifier, both covered with dust. They’d been left sitting around because I didn’t want to admit to myself that my attempt to become a fantastic musician had failed.
A desk and a dining table, both far too large for a bachelor. Even though I didn’t invite people over, I had this desire to share a simmering hot pot with someone.
A Tempur-Pedic full-size mattress – extremely comfortable but extremely heavy.
A 42-inch TV that was clearly out of place in my 100sqft room, but supposedly showed that I was a serious fan of movies. A full home theatre set-up and a PS3. Adult videos I had stored on my hard drive. These may have been the items it took me the most courage to part with. Roll upon roll of developed photographs, piled up in stacks and stuck together. Treasured letters I’d been saving since kindergarten.
BECAUSE I had a hard time just discarding things, I took photos of everything I threw away. I shot pictures of the covers of all my books, too. There must be at least 3,000 pictures stored on my hard drive.
Now that I think about it, I had everything I needed: a big TV, a home theatre set, a computer, an iPhone, a comfortable bed, and more. But even though I had all of life’s necessities, I kept thinking about what was missing in my life.
I could watch movies with my girlfriend in style, if only I had a leather sofa. (I could casually put my arm around her during the film.) I’d probably look smart if I had a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. I could invite friends over for parties if I had a grand rooftop terrace. All the apartments I saw featured in magazines had these things, yet I had none of them. If only I had them, people would start noticing me. It was all the things I didn’t have that were standing between me and my happiness. That’s the way my mind used to work.
Back when I first came to Tokyo from my hometown in Kagawa Prefecture, my apartment contained nothing but the bare essentials. But because I couldn’t throw anything away, it gradually became a palace of clutter. And I could come up with justifications for all of it.
I used to like taking pictures. I wanted to capture precious moments and make them mine. I wanted to hang on to everything that might someday become a fond memory.
The books I read are like a part of me, so naturally I couldn’t part with them, either. I wanted to share my favourite movies and music with others. There were always hobbies I wanted to take up when I had the time.
I couldn’t throw away anything expensive. That would be such a waste. And just because I wasn’t using something at that moment, it didn’t mean I wasn’t going to use it someday.
This is just some of the reasoning that went through my head as I kept accumulating things.
It was the complete opposite of how I now feel. I was a maximalist, determined to save everything, to buy the coolest, biggest, heaviest items I could afford.
As my belongings started to take up more and more room, I began to be overwhelmed by them, spending all my energy on my objects while still hating myself for not being able to make good use of them all. Yet no matter how much I accumulated, my attention was still focused on the things I didn’t have. I became jealous of other people. Even then, I couldn’t throw anything away, and so I was stuck going around and around in a vicious circle of self-loathing.
But by getting rid of my things, I’ve finally started to break out of that situation. If you’re anything like I was – dissatisfied with your life, insecure, unhappy – try reducing your belongings. You’ll start to change. Unhappiness isn’t just the result of genetics or past trauma or career trouble. I think that some of our unhappiness is simply due to the burden of all our things.
We’re all born into this world as minimalists, but we Japanese used to lead minimalist lives as well. Foreigners who came to Japan before our industrialisation were shocked. While it might be hard to imagine today, most people owned perhaps two or three kimonos, always kept fresh and clean, as their entire wardrobe. They packed light, their legs were strong, and they could walk wherever they needed to go. Homes were simple structures that could quickly be rebuilt, and people didn’t tend to live in the same place all their lives. Japanese culture used to be a minimalist culture.
My definition of a minimalist is a person who knows what is truly essential for him- or herself, who reduces the number of possessions that they have for the sake of things that are really important to them.
There are no set rules. It’s not like you’re disqualified if you own a TV or have more than 100 possessions, or that you would then become a minimalist if you just got rid of those items. You’re not even necessarily a minimalist just because everything you own can be stuffed into a single suitcase.
MY feeling is that minimalists are people who know what’s truly necessary for them versus what they may want for the sake of appearance, and they’re not afraid to cut down on everything in the second category.
Danshari – the art of decluttering, discarding, and parting with your possessions – began to create a buzz in Japan around 2010, the year Marie Kondo’s newly published book, The Life-Changing Magic Of Tidying Up, became a smash hit.
The Great East Japan Earthquake of 2011 not only affected our sense of value, I think it prompted a big change in how we look at our possessions.
Mai Yururi is an artist whose comic format essay series, Watashi no uchi niwa nanimo nai (There’s Nothing In My House), became a big hit. I was one of the many people who had been shocked to see pictures of Mai’s sparse home. She’s been given the nickname Sute-hentai (Weirdo Obsessed with Throwing Things Away). One scene in her book made a real impression on me: all the possessions that she and her family had lovingly kept in their home came crashing down when the earthquake struck, and turned into deadly weapons. All of their cherished objects were washed away by the tsunami. Everything had been ruined.
Considering the rise of information overload, the advance of technology, and the increasing occurrence of deadly natural disasters, I can’t help wondering if the rise of minimalism in recent years may have been inevitable. Minimalism had to be born, not out of a mere spur-of-the-moment idea or yearning for a new lifestyle, but from an earnest desire and fervent need to rethink our lives.
This is an edited extract from Goodbye, Things by Fumio Sasaki, published by Penguin, £9.99