by Ruud Gullit
Hoekstra was not perhaps the most spectacular player—his technique was not brilliant and his finishing less than deadly. Yet he had an uncanny ability to go deep at just the right moment and to quickly elude his marker. If you get your timing right then you have the time and space to do something interesting with the ball. But one-on-ones with the keeper weren’t Hoekstra’s strong point. He never managed to score in those situations. But if he found himself in trouble, with no time to over-think it, then he acted on instinct and shot on target.
Everyone had their doubts about Hoekstra, but without him our game was always below par. Then we really missed him. Moreover, Hoekstra was as strong as an ox; luckily, because the role Cruijff assigned to him and the style of play required plenty of stamina.
Although Brard and Hoekstra may not have been the best players, they were ideal to enable a team with someone like Cruijff at their hub to operate well. Cruijff, however, was the player who invariably made the difference for us.
Indispensable links
Players such as Brard and Hoekstra are perhaps comparable with the later well-known Dutch internationals Edgar Davids and Clarence Seedorf. These were key team players. Davids had an incredible drive going forward, while he was also conscientious in defense. He was an avid tackler and would then pass the ball to someone like the brilliant Zinedine Zidane when they were both at Juventus. Seedorf had many strings to his bow, not least because he was always in full control. His tremendous technique also enabled him to dominate play. Yet for me it was always as a team player rather than as an individual that he made the difference at the highest level.
Davids and Seedorf were crucial in completing the puzzle. You missed them as soon as they weren’t there. Unique individual players are the type who, while they may not be the absolute best, are often the most useful in the team. And so too in a sense the most important.
Claude Makélélé was another of that ilk. Maybe not the most technical player, but the most important link in the Real Madrid team when they became known as Los Galácticos, with players such as Ronaldo, Zidane, Beckham, Figo, Raúl and Roberto Carlos. Makélélé had a similar role in the French national side and later at Chelsea. Jan Wouters was similarly crucial for Ajax, Bayern Munich and the Dutch team. Paul Scholes was another player of the same type who was also an extremely good player. Man United’s Michael Carrick, not the most elegant player, maintained a perfect balance between attack and defense.
For me, Roy Keane was one of the best. He approached perfection. First and foremost, his principal purpose was to maintain balance in the side. Keane was a good player, an undisputed leader, he could tackle and could get a team that had fallen into a stupor back on its feet. When the game was going badly, he could motivate individual players and get everyone back on track. Someone like Keane is the ideal extension of a manager on the pitch. A rare quality.
Players like that, who can take matters into their own hands, are increasingly hard to find. Players tend not to think things through and that starts with the youngest kids, who everything is worked out for in advance, with a couple of coaches standing on the touchline barking orders at them. And in such a way that they are too scared to color outside the lines, and so lose all sense of initiative. That is the kiss of death for soccer, that and the lack of opportunity for children to play out in the street these days, unable to form their own teams and choose who to play with, instead sitting in front of a computer screen or playing on their phone.
Frank Rijkaard was quieter as a leader. He was on a par with Keane, with an extra weapon: he could score. Rijkaard played slightly farther forward than Keane and often hit the target. Carlo Ancelotti covered Rijkaard and took over many of his defensive tasks. When he played, he was in command.
The best in today’s generation is Sergio Busquets at FC Barcelona, although he doesn’t have the leadership qualities of a player like Keane. Keane was Man Utd’s standard bearer—no one could mistake him and everyone held him in awe. That isn’t Busquets.
All these players were crucial for the balance of their team. They provided the yin and yang. Without them there was often no real connection between the players, and those with exceptional qualities were unable to make a difference.
By the way, you often can’t have more than one of these players in a team. Ancelotti and Rijkaard complemented each other at AC Milan, but at Chelsea in 2015/16 Nemanja Matić and John Obi Mikel were too much of the same in one team.
Weakest links
Everyone wants to play with stars like Cruijff and Messi: they win games for you, collect trophies, and increase your market value. Some way below that top category there are other types of players, who let others clear up the defensive work and pretend to turn up just a fraction too late for almost everything.
I’m thinking of midfielders like Cesc Fàbregas and Wim Jonk. With players like that in a team people can get extremely irritated when the results disappoint, because they cut so many corners in defense. They let others do the work and arrive at the end to show off their skills. This was how Jonk and Fàbregas played at Ajax and Arsenal, but when they were transferred, to Internazionale and Barcelona respectively, they found they could no longer get away with it.
Players like that are constantly pretending to be busy, to be rushing into tackles and helping defend. Often spectators don’t realize, but as a player, on the pitch, you can tell they’re not doing anything. In fact they often let their immediate opponent go on purpose, and then walk away with a baffled expression and a gesture that suggests: “Oh, missed it by a hair’s breadth.”
But, being strong in their position, they stand where they are directly available for a pass when the team gets the ball back. And when they receive the ball then they start to play and use the free space to do something decisive. On the ball, players like Jonk and Fàbregas are obviously talented.
In fact Jonk, with his sharp eye and quick passing in depth, emerged as a playmaker from the back at Ajax, Internazionale and PSV. With the two former clubs he won the UEFA Cup. It was at Ajax that the Jonk–Bergkamp duo emerged: provider–finisher. Internazionale bought both, but in Italy Jonk and Bergkamp were never able to realize the potential they had shown. Their only decisive moment was in the UEFA Cup; in Serie A far more had been expected and demanded of them.
Dutch journalists explained that the lackluster performances Jonk and Bergkamp produced was the fault of Internazionale’s own players, but in Italy they thought differently. Jonk returned to PSV in the Netherlands, and Bergkamp gave his career an enormous boost by joining Arsenal under the auspices of their French manager, Arsène Wenger.
Fàbregas’s shortcomings only really came to light at Chelsea. At Arsenal and Barcelona he was surrounded by an incredible array of talent, which tended to cover up his failings. At Chelsea in 2015/16 this no longer applied, and as the results grew more disappointing the player’s role became increasingly noticeable, because that is when you need people in your team who can tackle. Above all you can’t afford to have someone in midfield who can’t deliver the goods. On the ball, Fàbregas is fantastic, but at this level of soccer you need the full range of skills: at Arsenal and Barcelona he was okay, when Chelsea are in form, he gets away with it, but when they’re not it begins to show.
When Chelsea played Paris Saint-Germain in the Champions League, Terry was not in the team, and Diego Costa went off injured. You would have expected Fàbregas to step up and lead in a game like that, but it didn’t happen. He just isn’t that kind of player. Can you blame Fàbregas? Hardly. Chelsea bought him so that he could do his thing with the ball.
It’s not always as easy as it seems to make the pieces of the puzzle fit.
Halftime
The atmosphere in the dressing room at halftime mainly depends on how the first half went. So too the manager’s input. Often there are a few tactical points to consider, possible substitutions to be discussed and made, and sometimes the mana
ger goes in for some theatricals, depending on the degree to which the team’s performance met expectations, the halftime score and the effort made by the players. Legendary stories abound. Especially about disappointed managers kicking in doors, smashing massage tables in half, slinging cups of tea across the room and all kinds of nonsense to wake up the players and shake them out of their lethargy. Some are so angry, they refuse to even see the team.
Managers who throw a tantrum risk raising the issue of their expiration date. The first burst of anger makes an impression, but the effect soon begins to wear off. Foot-stamping managers are slightly comical too. You really have to be careful how you behave at halftime.
When I was manager at Chelsea I once sat and read the paper during halftime. It was an FA Cup tie against Liverpool in 1997. We were playing like amateurs and losing 2–0. From the corner of my eye I saw that the players had no idea where to look. No one took the initiative and there was a deathly silence. Just before the bell rang to signal the second half I made a slight tactical adjustment and I said to them calmly: “You have forty-five minutes to make up for that appalling display.”
The trick worked brilliantly. We totally overwhelmed Liverpool and won 4–2, and went on to win the FA Cup—the club’s first trophy in twenty-six years. I never read the paper again at halftime. If you want to motivate your players, you have to surprise them.
Positions
Keeper
When I started playing soccer at the age of eight, the goalkeeper was the odd one out. Keepers have always been different. They have different personalities from outfield players, they are solitary, focused on themselves, and in my day they weren’t very good at playing the ball, otherwise why would your friends leave you to stand in goal? All that changed radically twenty-five years ago. On July 1, 1992, keepers who weren’t good on the ball suddenly found themselves in trouble when a new rule meant they could no longer pick up a back pass. It also meant that defenders had to find ways to build an attack farther forward. The average number of goals soared in the aftermath of the new rule, and every keeper was busy practicing blasting balls upfield when defenders passed back. For a while the old-fashioned English kick-and-rush style of playing was back in vogue: belt the ball forward and let the forwards and the midfielders sort it out.
Soon keepers found themselves required to join in team training sessions, especially for positional exercises. They became faster and more confident with the ball. Gradually the goalkeeper emerged as the eleventh player. These days, keepers are more like roaming defenders and sometimes wander so far from goal that they risk being caught out with a long lob.
When the Netherlands were runners-up in the 1974 World Cup in West Germany, the man in goal may not have been the best keeper, but he was certainly the best ball-playing keeper. That’s why Piet Schrijvers was on the bench that day and Jan Jongbloed stood in goal.
Johan Cruijff captained the Dutch side, which the Brazilians dubbed “Laranja Mecanica”—the “Clockwork Orange.” Later, when he was manager at Ajax, he chose another keeper with all-around skills, namely Stanley Menzo, who was good enough to have been a professional outfield player himself.
At Barcelona, Cruijff again chose a keeper confident on the ball, Carles Busquets, father of today’s midfielder Sergio. He pulled the strangest stunts, dribbling past opponents or challenging them far outside the penalty area. He was not the most secure of keepers, but Cruijff refused to listen to his critics because Busquets was an excellent all-around player.
An extreme example is the Colombian René Higuita. He regularly joined in the game upfield and could often be seen wandering far from his penalty area. Higuita was a bit over the top. He would dribble past players and take the ball into the midfield area. His finest moment was at Wembley in 1995. Higuita could presumably have caught Jamie Redknapp’s shot with ease, but instead he dived forward and “scorpion-kicked” the incoming ball off the goal line and over his head with the heels of his boots—an amazing trick that will be remembered and celebrated for years to come.
Top keepers
The Dane Peter Schmeichel came to Manchester United in 1991 and remained until mid-1999. The new back-pass rule seemed to have no effect on him. He is the most complete keeper I know and against whom I ever played—a huge personality, excelling in every aspect of goalkeeping.
Schmeichel was an imposing presence: he was a leader, a good goal-line keeper, strong in front of his goal and at corners, and reasonably skilled on the ball. Outfield players are always grateful to have a keeper like that in their team. He radiates such confidence that defenders rely on him blindly. With Schmeichel behind you there’s no need to bring down that elusive forward. One-on-one, it was almost impossible to get past him. In fact he earned his club points and won many a game. At the European Championship in Sweden in 1992, he kept goal for Denmark. In the semifinal he held the Dutch firmly at bay, blocking their way to the final, which the Danes eventually won, making them European champions.
Schmeichel hated taking risks. If his team was under pressure he invariably went for a long clearance upfield. He never got his defenders into difficulties by forcing them to pass their way out of trouble. He demanded the same of his fellow players, and was ready with a selection of withering invective to keep them in line. Some of his outbursts have become legendary. Ask any of the guys he played with back then—many of them were literally afraid of him.
When I was in the Dutch squad, Hans van Breukelen was our goalie. He had played for Nottingham Forest under Brian Clough. Van Breukelen was not a natural; he trained and practiced incessantly until he made himself one of the best keepers to ever play for the Dutch national side. Van Breukelen was the closest to Schmeichel’s level.
The best all-round keeper in professional soccer today is Manuel Neuer. His soccer intelligence is excellent. He sees situations developing and can anticipate events, both in defense and in the buildup to an attack. Yet he sometimes lacks confidence with the ball.
One of the most remarkable keepers is Rogério Ceni. He is not well-known in Europe, but he kept goal for many years for a leading Brazilian club, São Paulo. For a long time, Ceni was also high up in the top-scorer list, and not just because he took their penalties—he also took any free kicks near the opponents’ penalty area. Ceni was a genuine specialist: he scored over 130 goals and far exceeded the Chilean José Luis Chilavert’s record as top-scoring goalkeeper (sixty-two goals). Ceni retired in 2015 at the age of forty-two, an unusually ripe old age for a keeper, especially at that level.
Dino Zoff, who kept goal for Juventus and Italy, was remarkable for not being remarkable. A calculating keeper, he seemed to have to pick up balls only as they trickled in or to catch shots directed straight at him. He never made spectacular dives; he didn’t like diving. Zoff’s greatest quality was to be in the right place, since he could tell how the situation was going to develop two seconds before it happened. He sensed where the ball would be.
In fact keepers who dive are probably standing in the wrong place and have misjudged the situation or have organized the defense badly. Personally, I prefer boring keepers. If you know where the ball is going to be then you’ll always be where you need to be on time and you won’t need to perform spectacular tricks. No keeper can keep every shot out of course, but if you have a sense of where the ball is heading, you can anticipate. Coaching your defenders is a crucial part of this. Organize them properly and you’ll have fewer problems yourself.
On the other hand there’s Gianluigi Buffon of Juventus: a spectacular keeper. He is loud, marshals his defense and is in constant contact with his central defenders. A keeper who makes himself heard has presence. It helps if you’re slightly crazy, because you’ll occasionally have to dive at the feet of an oncoming forward, risking a sharp kick to the head, or studs in your cheek, or a ball smack in the stomach or in the groin, or a broken wrist or fingers. Buffon often tapes his hands to protect them and keep his
fingers whole.
Keeper as coach
The keeper is a key element in the formation. A goal-line keeper doesn’t feel comfortable with a defense that plays on the halfway line. A one-on-one specialist won’t have a problem with this, happily covering the whole penalty area. Keepers of that sort tend to get nervous when five players suddenly gather round for a corner. A short keeper finds that equally problematic.
The goalkeeper tells the defenders what to do, the defenders coach the midfielders, who in turn steer the forwards. What keepers decide entirely for themselves is how to play corners and free kicks. The keeper has to feel comfortable. A manager may offer insights, but tactics are up to the keeper.
Players who stand by the goalposts are mainly there for when the ball is headed or fired in so close to the goal that the keeper doesn’t have time to respond, especially if it goes into the top corner. So keepers have a choice: one player by the post or two, although some prefer to have no one else on the goal line because that makes it difficult to dive. From a keeper’s perspective there’s something to be said for each of these options. In the end he is the one who gets the blame if the ball goes in.
So the keeper decides, in consultation with the coach, whether the team will defend corners with zonal marking, man-marking or a combination of both. With zonal marking, players cover a particular area, intervening if the ball enters it. Man-marking involves defenders shadowing particular opponents in the penalty area. These are one-on-one duels. Who is stronger, or smarter? In a combination of zone and man-marking you may want to mark a notorious header of the ball, leaving the other defenders to focus on zones.