Football mastery
Hans Keller
The degree to which patriotism undermines even the strongest sense of reality is still not fully appreciated, because nobody is quite unpatriotic enough to appreciate it. The strongest sense of reality is to be found amongst seasoned bookmakers: those who don't possess it haven't survived. Normally, therefore, their odds help one towards sober insight into diverse areas of life (politics, of course, included), but not when England is involved in a football international: fortunately for us, the investors, they just cannot bring themselves to accept that in certain situations, England has no chance. As a matter of fact, the bookies offered me 5-4 on for an Italy win, and subsequently had to pay me a lot of money.
Immediately the match was over, broadcasters and newspaper reporters alike knew all about the difference in class between the two footballs worlds: 'The gulf that England needs to bridge is skill'; 'England World Cup hopes crash to Italian master craftsmen.' The facts may have been news to the newspapers, but to any detached observer with a minimal knowledge of Italian football they had been so obvious that even the sudden disappearance in Rome, of a Bowles or a Keegan came as no more than a mild surprise. For one thing, neither's skill or invention remotely approached the imaginative craft of the leading Italians, while for another, with only a single real midfield player--the admittedly classy Trevor Brooking--in operation, both Bowles and Keegan spent a great deal of their time on an en forced sabbatical leave, enlivened by a little bit of work whenever it happened to come their way. And if England had a hole instead of a midfield, Italy's own midfield showed our entire football world where to get off— showed us, too, what to do instead of our desperate high crosses which, of course, we had taken along to Rome.
Mind you, Brooking's crosses have great precision, but the Italians don't cross at all without a high degree of precision and, still better, anticipation. In this respect (to mention but one). Italy's second goal was a masterpiece. a film of which ought to be compulsory viewing for our First Division sides every Friday night. The sovereign Causio had more than one foot in it. Beating Clement with plenty of thought to spare, he achieved a magnificent flick to Benetti, who passed back to Causio. Outwitting Mills, the Italian master then crossed hard and neither high nor low, with perfect anticipation of Bettega's acceleration, which was crowned by an unsavable header. Not that the first goal had been a mere accidental deflection: something was bound to flow from one of those dangerous Italian free-kicks, whose wily construction invariably had the England defence in disarray. Besides, if England, having advertised Italian fouling adnauseam, had fouled a little less herself, this particular danger area would have been eliminated: fair play is not a bad defence. McFarland, quite especially, could have posed as an outstanding Italian fouler, had his fouls been more skilful.
What was so grotesque about our hopes was that virtually all of us had seen Causio make fools of the Manchester United defence in the UEFA Cup: it was evident that if Juventus were to play England, England would have no prospect of winning. Well, Juventus did play England: the Italian side contained no fewer than seven Juventus players, who were able to give a demonstration of co-ordinated individualism where we had to rest content with unco-ordinated team-work. We on our side have no club we could have fielded: our sundry team spirits prevent the development of complementary individualists.
Most depressing, and most realistic, was Signor Enzo Bearzot's compliment to England, when he previewed Wembley next year: 'A much more aggressive and fast team' is what he expects to have to fight.
Don't worry, Signor Bearzot : we run first and think afterwards, if at all; you think first and run afterwards, if at all. We are, em phatically, a second-class football nation, and so long as we do not accept this evalua tion as a fact, there is no hope. That it may take years to allow individual intelligence and skill to develop should not blind us to the only alternative, which is nil. Once the bookmakers offer me less favourable odds against England. a start will have been made: cognition precedes all meaningful action.
Meanwhile, our last defensive criticism of Italian football has to evaporate: it isn't defensive any longer. Good luck to them in Argentina, where they will land instead of us.
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