by Ruud Gullit
I’m not a great believer in zonal marking because in theory it forces players to stay in one place for a corner or a free kick. If, when the corner is taken, you stay in your zone, it makes it easier for forwards to avoid defenders. Plus it’s hard to jump high when standing still. When you’re running you can jump much higher. Italian teams tend to opt for man-marking, since they know how to hold on to an opponent and they are strong in one-on-ones.
When FC Barcelona defend against a corner, they often keep three players up front. That is both a defensive and an attacking ploy, especially since many of Barcelona’s players are short. Which is why they go for an attacking short corner rather than a high ball.
Teams defending against Barcelona have a problem: no manager can afford to play with just three defenders. One-against-one would be suicide. So a fourth defender has to be brought in to close down the back. To deal with the Catalan trio, you need to have someone cutting off the supply line too. In effect it takes six players to do the job, while there are at most four forwards in the penalty area and maybe one on the edge. This leaves the keeper space to see what’s going on and to move wherever necessary.
But if corners are a team’s speciality, as was the case with Wimbledon, then these are real opportunities to score: their corners, their free kicks and their throw-ins (more like quasi-corners) were deadly weapons.
A first header by a player stationed close to the near post is impossible to defend against: the ball can end up anywhere in the penalty area. The surprise is complete, although the attacking side also has no idea where the ball will go. So it sends three or four players surging into the area in the hope that the ball will ricochet off someone’s head.
Hugo Sánchez, Real Madrid’s Mexican striker in the late 1980s, always started by blocking the keeper’s view, standing close while being careful not to foul. As soon as the corner was taken, he ran back quickly, and because many defenders and attackers tend to watch the ball at that moment, they lost sight of Sánchez. Whenever a ball went past the keeper, he was there to tap it in at the far post. This sneaky trick earned him any number of goals. I remember talking about it with Gary Lineker, who said that he had noticed it too and had often scored using that same Sánchez tactic.
A short corner, taken by two players, has the advantage of drawing one or two defenders out of the goalmouth, which creates more space for advancing forwards to meet the cross from the corner. A threatening run toward the near post may also draw the defender stationed there away from the goal, and may even get the keeper to come forward.
Defenders also train intensively to deal with these standard situations. The goalkeeping coach has acquired an increasingly important role here. Every situation is considered: a corner that lands by the near post or by the far post, a ball curving in, or curving out, or situations in which a tall player stands in front of the keeper, or when a striker lurks on the edge of the penalty area, or when the other team is packed with good headers of the ball.
Right back
These days at the back, most teams field converted midfielders who can sprint and have some idea about attacking soccer and what to do when they get to the other end of the pitch. They are key players: they have more possession than anyone else in the team. So they have to be able to play.
When I was young, I remember seeing Wim Suurbier surging up the pitch for Ajax, all the way from his right-back position to the outside right, at least if Sjaak Swart, outside right in their 4-3-3 system, wasn’t glued to the touchline as usual and had moved into a central position. In the late 1960s and early ’70s, Suurbier’s sprints were sensational and there was no one like him in Europe. In Brazil, that style was common. Well-known practitioners included Carlos Alberto, Leandro and Cafu on the right, and Francisco Marinho, Júnior, Leonardo and Roberto Carlos on the left.
These days, entire soccer systems have been devised around players like Dani Alves and Jordi Alba to give them space to get involved as a defender, and even in an attacking role. Sometimes, indeed, the outside right will be a left-footed player who moves in precisely to make space for the emerging right back, while the same happens on the left, only the other way around. The outside player initiates this: the back’s role is primarily to distract opponents.
The best examples are at Barcelona: Lionel Messi with Dani Alves (now at Juventus) on the right, and Neymar with Jordi Alba on the left. These modern backs roam the channels so that in the end you get a kind of one-against-two situation and opponents are forced to choose. If as a defender you wait for the decisive moment before choosing, then you’re already too late.
In a 4-4-2 system, the left and right backs play a more defensive role, although they can move farther forward if the midfielders take over their task. At AC Milan, we played a similar combination with me as a right half, backed by Tassotti, with Ancelotti or Rijkaard beside me. We were a trio that could both defend and attack.
An amazing right back was Gary Neville. Not especially gifted technically or even the fastest, yet Sir Alex Ferguson leaned heavily on him. Neville had a fabled insight into the game and always chose exactly the right moment to support a given player, to go deep or to offer to take a pass. He knew precisely where danger loomed when the other side won the ball. Neville was always there on time, and he was ruthless.
I realize why Gary Neville never became a schoolboy hero, but that was perhaps his strength. He could annoy his opponents no end; he could make an entire team lose all sense of purpose while never allowing himself to be distracted once. He could have a whole team in the palm of his hand, by himself. The more I watched him, the more I admired him. It is not difficult to find right backs who are technically more proficient, but none has the character of a Gary Neville.
Left back
Paolo Maldini was the epitome of a left back. When I played with him at AC Milan he was still a teenager, only nineteen, although he had the substance and the physique of a mature player. An unusual attribute was his ability with both feet. Even now, I have no idea whether he was originally right-footed or left-footed. Maldini had the stamina to play the entire left flank and the intelligence to choose the right moment to join the attack.
Maldini’s intelligence was not confined to Maldini the player: it was also a characteristic of Maldini the man. He had a unique perspective on the world, quite unlike most players. He wanted to see the world, although as a player he saw surprisingly little of it and hardly ever left Italy. I asked him once if he ever regretted that. “I had a good career. Naturally I would have liked to have played abroad, in England perhaps, but I don’t regret it, Ruud. I won everything.” It was a typical remark, especially for an Italian, because winning is everything in Italy. His list of trophies is astonishing. As a club player for AC Milan he won everything there is to win, not just once but two, even three times. Yet with Italy the main prize eluded him; he only managed to collect four consolation prizes: once runner-up in the European Championship and once in the World Cup, and once third place in the European Championship and once in the World Cup.
The German Andy Brehme was one of the better left backs in my day. Unusually, he was a right-footed player. It was with him that Internazionale’s attacks usually began, and although he wasn’t fast, he had an infallible instinct for when to turn up. His insight and his free kicks were often decisive. I found Brehme a formidable opponent and I faced him several times playing for AC Milan against Inter, and with the Netherlands against Germany. A man with great stamina.
Marcelo, Real Madrid’s left back, has similar staying power and is an excellent individual player. As a left back he gets past opponents like a genuine winger. And he keeps going down that left side. If he’s not playing, his absence is noticed in the Real Madrid attack. Ronaldo would certainly agree—Marcelo is the perfect foil for him.
Paris Saint-Germain’s Maxwell may not be well-known, but if you list his employers—Ajax, Barcelona, Internazionale and PSG—then this Br
azilian, who actually started as a midfielder, is enjoying a tremendous career. His technique with the ball is almost perfect, so pure, so aesthetically pleasing, and so calm; he’s always a pleasure to watch. Faced with pace, he is less equipped to compete. Yet I’m glad that despite the evolution of top-level soccer toward strength and stamina, there is still a place for a player of beautiful, technical soccer that is pleasing to the eye.
From a manager’s perspective, I’d post a Speedy Gonzales to oppose him, and I’d say: “Go for it, run rings around him. Our right half and right back will deal with him if he comes forward. Make him run a few meters and after you get the ball I’d be surprised if Maxwell will dare to take you on again or whether his manager will tell him to stay at the back.”
As a manager I would always play Maxwell. With his background as a midfielder he has the insight to play an attacking role well. And left backs who aren’t afraid to hold on to the ball under pressure and who know how to get out of difficulty with relative ease are rare—even in teams that play in the quarterfinals of the Champions League.
Central defender
While there are still right and left backs who know how to defend, these days they are selected and judged particularly for their attacking qualities. For players in the center of the back line, defense is the priority. Italians prefer a player in defense who knows how to defend; in the Netherlands they prefer someone confident on the ball. Yet it’s easier to teach a defender how to pass. If defense isn’t already in a player’s repertoire, you’ll never cram it in. The ability to defend is a quality you can improve, but you’ll never really shine if you don’t already have the talent.
I admired Tony Adams, with his enormous personality, and Claudio Gentile is as far as I know the only defender who could totally neutralize Diego Maradona. He played for Juventus and Italy and had the ability to concentrate on making it impossible for his opponent to play soccer for the entire game, to take part in any way. He stuck to his mark like a limpet and would have followed him all the way to the bathroom.
I used to play with Alessandro “Billy” Costacurta, a clinical defender and at the same time a ruthless man-marker whose baby-faced charm deluded people into thinking that there was no way he could be so nasty. He wasn’t particularly tall but his efficiency really impressed me. He had the ability to get the maximum advantage with a minimum of risk. Costacurta was a good player, but his priority was to pass every ball without risk to a player wearing his colors. Many strikers underestimated him and thought he would be an easy target. Yet with him as an immediate opponent it was almost impossible to make a decisive pass.
One of the very best I ever saw was Pietro Vierchowod, my teammate at Sampdoria. That Van Basten only ever scored once in all our battles when Pietro was in defense says it all, in a period in which Van Basten was hailed as the world’s player of the year three times.
Against Vierchowod, no striker ever had a good day. With his heavy, almost clumsy posture, Vierchowod surprised his opponents with a superquick first five meters and his unanticipated agility. He was not considered mean, but was hard as nails. He made sure he kept in shape: a true professional, only retiring in April 2000, still playing top soccer at forty-one.
Jürgen Kohler played professional soccer from 1983 to 2002, at Bayern Munich, Juventus and Borussia Dortmund. He was known as a shrewd center back, a stopper, someone to build a team on: a player who never took unnecessary risks, which only increased the reliance the rest of the team placed on him. He would never try to get around an opponent if there was any way of avoiding it. His motto was: why dribble if you can pass to someone else? In defense he was clever and cunning, not averse to pushing and tugging shirts and kicking a leg or two.
Players like these are less common today: John Terry, Martin Keown, Rio Ferdinand, Nemanja Vidić and Gary Cahill. They are essential because they provide a firm foundation for the side. They may slip up, but they never let you down. Their motto is: “Don’t mess with me!”
Defenders like these are hard to find in the Netherlands, which is largely due to the priorities of today’s scouts: the players at the back need to have soccer skills, to be able to play the ball. But it seems to me that’s not all they need. After all, a man-marker’s primary purpose is to defend by neutralizing the striker; he should not be taking risks, moving forward occasionally but mainly passing the ball to others who can launch an attack. A nice long ball from right to left or vice versa is a welcome addition, although if it isn’t part of the package there’s no harm done. You can learn a lot in training.
Sometimes defenders get overconfident. They think that they can play with the ball, they take irresponsible risks and then it all goes wrong. Risks are for the opposing side’s half, never your own.
Often central defense will combine a pure defender with a libero, or sweeper. The latter is more versatile with the ball and is able to do more than just neutralize forwards. He is often the first link in the chain of a new attack, receiving the ball from the keeper, maintaining the team’s formation, moving up to midfield or alternatively behind the other defenders to provide cover at the back. Sweepers are often leaders and the captain of their side.
Ideally both central defenders should be able to command all these facets of play.
Franco Baresi, the Italian sweeper and central defender, is the best I know. I had the privilege of playing with him at AC Milan. He possessed the whole range of qualities. He had the intelligence to play AC Milan’s well-known accordion tactic: moving together vertically or horizontally as a team to win the ball back after losing possession. That required precision, because if anyone failed to keep up, a gap would immediately open through which the other side could penetrate. Looking from above you would have seen the whole team moving three meters to the right, four meters forward, five meters left, ten meters forward and so on.
Baresi was in charge and would lead the team with strict discipline. If you missed a step he would let you know in no uncertain manner, and it didn’t matter who you were. He was also a good player. Two-footed, he could pass the ball long with great accuracy. In defense he was ruthless and Baresi’s personality gave AC Milan what Schmeichel would later give to United: leadership.
At Chelsea, John Terry is another pillar of strength. Once you write his name on your team sheet you don’t have to worry. In defense he stands his ground and he never does anything silly going forward. Moreover, he gives a team a sense of direction and maintains a tight defensive formation. With Terry in your side you also have an extra weapon for corners and free kicks. He is a fantastic header of the ball, so good that he’ll beat the keeper in one-on-ones. That’s how high he jumps and how good his timing is.
Javier Mascherano, the Argentinian, interprets the role of sweeper in his own way at FC Barcelona. Before coming to Spain, Mascherano played in midfield at Liverpool and for Argentina’s national side. He’s like a terrier who sinks his teeth in as soon as his side loses the ball, and when he has possession he shows he can play. Yet he knows that others at Barcelona can probably do that better so he quickly passes the ball on. He is constantly crowding his opponent and often stops passes because he has an instinct for where the ball is going.
His ability to anticipate a situation is uncanny. He is constantly watching, looking for the moment when his teammates lose the ball, ready to pounce immediately and to regain possession without delay. Losing possession is always a risk with creative players like Messi, Neymar and Suárez, who like to go on individual runs.
Often you’ll see Mascherano setting off in a completely different direction from the rest of the team. Then you can be pretty sure that if Messi loses the ball here or there, the other side will eventually turn up in a counterattack in that zone. So that’s where Mascherano goes. He’ll change direction if Messi plays to Neymar and he begins an individual run. Then if the other side were to gain possession the ball would end up somewhere else. Mascherano can judge his opp
onents’ lines of attack from defender to striker.
A sweeper is a perfect complement to the Barcelona style of play, which concentrates as much as possible in the opposing side’s half. That is why Mascherano is able to play in this position. And why he takes charge when the team loses possession and presses the other side.
Carles Puyol preceded Mascherano as sweeper at Barça. Compared to the Argentinian, Puyol possessed more qualities as a defender and was a bigger personality. He was a leader and with his Catalan background he was a figurehead for the entire club.
The difference between a good and a poor defender is the difference between a defender who focuses on the ball and one who doesn’t. A ball watcher can never be a good defender. Defenders who watch the ball are enjoying the spectacle, almost as if they want to applaud, only to be jolted out of their reverie when the ball reaches their immediate opponent. Well, then it’s too late.
Good defenders think ahead: they are continually asking themselves: “What if . . .?” Players like Baresi, Puyol and Vierchowod focus on the possibility of losing the ball: what if we lose the ball there? Where should I be in that case? That’s what I call defending and taking responsibility. Too many defenders only think ahead when they get the ball. You can’t blame them—after all, the scouts spotted them and selected them on the basis of what they could do with the ball. To me, that’s a big problem. You see these defenders move toward the ball, positioning themselves to pass it. On the face of it they meet expectations, but they forget their priorities when their defending leaves the formation disorganized.
The ideal central pair is complementary: they give each other directions, communicate with each other, and think like one person. You can see straight away if it works. Do they both run back to meet a deep ball, or does one go for the ball while the other covers the free space to anticipate forwards moving in deep? That should be automatic, for a complementary duo.