by Ruud Gullit
Bayern Munich’s big mistake was to think that they had already won. That made United mad, especially when the Germans brought off Lothar Matthäus and he paraded to the bench in triumph, enjoying his substitution, made for the benefit of the crowd, to the fullest. It was like a red rag to a bull: just what Manchester United needed.
What United did then in two minutes of injury time was amazing, with two goals by Sheringham and Solskjaer. The Germans complain that it was pure luck, but it certainly wasn’t. This was a favorite United trick: making a difference in the final minutes, domestically and internationally.
AC Milan had a similar experience. Three days before the Champions League final on May 18, 1994, Johan Cruijff’s FC Barcelona were crowned Spanish champions. Everyone in Spain felt that there wasn’t really any need to play the final, the winner was a foregone conclusion. AC Milan were still struggling in Serie A and Barcelona had their head in the clouds. Even Cruijff said it was a mere formality to pick up the trophy four days later.
In Italy and especially at Milanello, everyone was livid at the superior tone of the Catalonians. They saw red and a quite different AC Milan were unleashed against Barcelona. By halftime the score was 2–0, with two goals by Massaro. In the second half Savićević and Desailly made sure of victory—the final score: 4–0.
The lesson was simple: always show respect to your opponents. Even if you’re playing against amateurs: shake everyone’s hand, pat their shoulder, exchange a few friendly words, stay humble. That takes the pressure off and releases the tension that makes an opponent kick like a wild animal, doing everything he can to stay in the game, but without success. If you chide and challenge an opponent, you’re asking for trouble. And there’s simply no need.
It could cost you the Champions League, as we saw in 1994 and 1999.
National teams
Luis Suárez handled the ball on the goal line in the final moments of the quarterfinal against Ghana in the 2010 World Cup and was sent off. Nevertheless, Uruguay progressed to the semifinal against the Netherlands in Cape Town. It wasn’t fair, but in Uruguay Suárez was the hero. In Ghana they’ll have cursed him, but in Uruguay no one told him: “Luis, you shouldn’t have done that.”
Playing for your country
The same thing happened to Thierry Henry in 2009 when he scored against Ireland after having brought the ball down with his hand. It enabled France to proceed to the World Cup in South Africa. Unfair perhaps, but the French claim that Henry was acting in the country’s interests. Difficult to accept for a purist, but we don’t live in an ideal world, not even in sport. A Ghanaian or an Irish player would probably have done the same in a similar situation. If you asked Suárez or Henry, they would probably tell you that they wouldn’t do it again if they had the choice, but theory and practice are different when it comes to playing for your country.
It was touch and go, but Henry didn’t get sent off, and didn’t even get suspended. Looking back, it is a minor blemish in his career. For a few days it was the big story and then it was old news and now no one even remembers.
When you play for your country you go that extra yard and the pressure on the game is so much greater. In England, too. There Manchester United’s Ashley Young is often booed for diving, but if he pulled the same stunt for England and England got into the final as a result, then everyone would suddenly be cheering. There’s so much more you can do for your country and suddenly everyone judges you by a different standard.
In international soccer it’s well known that referees unconsciously adjust to the way these players behave. So, for example, English players can’t tackle the way they’re used to in England, but a referee knows that the English are attached to their way of tackling and will take a slightly more tolerant view of their infringements.
That nuance doesn’t extend to the World Cup and European Championship. Before the start of either of those tournaments, referees are pumped full of instructions. They are drilled to perfection. And they carry out their instructions because they want to stay in contention for major games and advance their careers. Referees who want to make it to the end of the tournament shouldn’t even think of straying from the designated path.
When I played for Dutch youth teams we always played honest, positive soccer without any tricks. We played for the joy of playing and did our best to win, but we never sailed too close to the edge. It was as a young international that I first encountered the Latin soccer culture. Young players on those teams did everything they could to win. They sat on you, kicked, pulled your shirt, whinged, dropped to the ground and never stopped nagging—to the limit and then some more. Because we had no idea how that worked, we always came out the losers. It was an entirely new soccer experience.
Naturally, after years of experience abroad, we later learned that in the service of our country, when wearing an orange shirt, it was permissible to bite back. Paul Gascoigne once got an elbow in his face from Jan Wouters in an England–Netherlands game at Wembley. He broke his nose, was brought off and turned out later to have broken his cheekbone too. Nothing nice about that, but it was how we played the game twenty-five years ago.
Gascoigne was playing at Wembley and was entertaining the spectators, but was up against Jan Wouters. Not a player like Roy Keane. After a couple of reckless two-footed tackles he suddenly got an elbow in his face. No one saw it. That’s how it was in those days.
We once played a qualifying game away in Cyprus and found ourselves facing an extremely competent and troublesome striker. Ronald Spelbos, a defender for AZ and Ajax, hit the fellow squarely. After that we heard nothing more from him.
National anthem
Every player experiences the national anthem at international matches in his own way. Sometimes it depends on the tune. When I explain the words of our anthem to foreigners, their jaws drop. German blood? The king of Spain? Their jaws drop even farther.
We Dutch have an anthem in which we honor our former occupiers, Spain. “That’s not something to be proud of?” they ask. Then it’s me who’s lost for words. I used to mime the verses when the national anthem was played, although I was more than proud to represent the Netherlands.
The English, Americans, Italians and French take this bit seriously and draw inspiration from their anthem. It won’t win you the game, but it creates a sense of camaraderie. A packed Wembley singing “God Save the Queen” makes a lasting impression on English players and on visitors. And it gives England’s opponents just as big a boost. Who wouldn’t want to play in such an amazing atmosphere? It might leave a young player paralyzed by nerves for a moment, but if you’re capped and playing at Wembley, then you’ve probably built up a bit of experience.
Dutch infighting
One thing the Dutch are known for above all is their infighting during major tournaments. Whenever I’m invited as an analyst for a World Cup or European Championship, they always ask: “When are the Dutch going to wreck their own chances with another row?”
That’s the reputation we have abroad. I actually experienced it at the 1990 World Cup in Italy. The Netherlands were European champions and big favorites for the world title. Marco van Basten, Frank Rijkaard, Ronald Koeman and me: we all had another two years’ experience, we were between twenty-five and thirty, at the peak of our (soccer playing) lives, and yet it all went sour.
It started with the decision by Rinus Michels, director of technical affairs, to appoint Leo Beenhakker as coach rather than Johan Cruijff. Entirely against the wishes of the players, who had specifically asked for Cruijff. That Michels made a point of mixing with the players every day made everyone angrier still. Then there was a certain friction between guys like Van Basten, Koeman and the captain—myself—and some of the others. The image that many of the players had of themselves was all wrong: having won the European title, they thought they were better than they were. Moreover, we Dutch have difficulty lodging in such large numbers in such confin
ed quarters for a month without complaining. We always end up saying something.
Other national teams bond when the results are positive. Only the French suffer from the Dutch syndrome. Players are supposed to camouflage the disunity so no news of it reaches the outside world. Naturally it affects the team’s performance, although not always.
In 2014, the Netherlands came third in the World Cup, but Robin van Persie couldn’t hide the fact that he’d had quite enough of Arjen Robben’s conduct. Before the Argentina game, the semifinal of the competition, he walked onto the pitch for the warm-up ahead of his teammates because he refused to wait any longer for Robben. It seems a minor incident, but at such a big tournament with such huge media attention, it was bound to explode.
The Netherlands lost, and then for days the debate in the country was all about the Van Persie–Robben tiff, instead of the unexpected chance of a bronze medal. Happily, a unified Dutch team beat Brazil four days later to gain third place.
The Dutch like to tell each other blunt truths. And not just on the soccer field either. I’ve often been told we act like we’re the professors of soccer. Italians are particularly keen on pointing this out, even though they seem to talk about nothing else themselves. But we analyze ourselves silly. We debate tactics openly in the press, as if we were talking to a fellow manager rather than a journalist.
The Dutch like to solve everything with tactics.
Dutch school
Dutch tactics are based principally on the 4-3-3 system, with the central midfielder connecting to the striker—triangle tip forward—or dropping deep toward the two central defenders—triangle tip facing back. The two other midfielders move in the opposite direction. Since this is the tactical system that most Dutch teams employ, opponents have learned how to deal with it.
Simply put: disrupt the buildup by the two central defenders, lock the midfield down and then in the main you’ve got the Dutch where you want them. There is usually no real response, although these days teams playing a strong opponent tend to switch to a 5-3-2 formation. The Dutch team came far with this formation at the 2014 World Cup. It is reactive soccer, and that’s a dirty term in the Netherlands. Yet the tactic is gradually winning ground: for example, when PSV almost eliminated Atlético Madrid from the Champions League.
The 5-3-2 system assumes that the other side has possession, while Dutch soccer culture is all about keeping the ball yourself. Broadly speaking, you play soccer because you like playing with the ball, not because you like chasing your opponent. We want to see creativity with the ball, not think about formations when we don’t have possession. Which is usually what happens for about half the game.
Yet 5-3-2 is not necessarily defensive, because when you switch to 3-5-2, it becomes a highly aggressive tactic. See how Juventus tackled Bayern Munich in the Champions League.
Dutch teams often get into trouble when they play against two strikers. This often results in one-on-one marking at the back. Every long ball into the space behind the defense can be extremely dangerous. That is how Atlético Madrid threatened PSV last season in the first knockout stage of the Champions League. The keeper, Jeroen Zoet, saved PSV three times in one-on-one situations. Dutch players aren’t used to them.
How do you solve this? With a 5-3-2 formation, but in principle the two central defenders have to learn to play against two strikers.
Dutch soccer managers should spend far more time on other systems than just 4-3-3: both on how to play them and how to deal with them, ensuring that Dutch teams aren’t constantly being surprised and are able to anticipate the tactics of their opponents. I only ever played 4-3-3 in all the Dutch youth teams I played in as well as at Haarlem and Feyenoord. At PSV we played 4-4-2, but often so aggressively that it became a sort of 3-3-4. In Italy, I was taught the pure 4-4-2 and at Chelsea it was 5-3-2. In effect, I learned to play all these formations. Young players should get to know all of them too.
Last season I invited Arrigo Sacchi, my former manager at AC Milan, to give a guest lecture at the Dutch football association, KNVB. It wasn’t just a whim. I wanted to hold up a mirror to Dutch educators. He was ruthless and began by saying that he loved playing against Dutch teams. Always 4-3-3, lots of shuffling about in the buildup, slow positional play, no fast switching and constantly trying to reach the players on the flank for a cross to the striker. In other words: incredibly predictable. Always the same and never a surprise.
It was music to my ears, because this is what I had been saying for years. It’s 4-3-3 all the time, possession soccer and slow buildups from the back with no deep passes. It’s only logical that Dutch soccer no longer makes a difference forty years on—especially since there are no stars left to make a difference individually. We like to talk about tactics, but we forget to look for solutions and innovations for ourselves.
The Dutch consider themselves progressive, but they have effectively come to a standstill. Concerned about this situation, the football association convened a symposium to find a way to drag Dutch soccer out of the mire. Meanwhile, there is a master plan to improve the way youngsters are taught. As long as we recognize that 4-3-3 is a great system, but not the only one.
International innovation
Some teams have played a crucial role in the development of soccer. In retrospect they were twenty years ahead of their time. Take, for example, the total soccer concept developed by Ajax in the early 1970s and the Dutch national side of the same period, dubbed “Laranja Mecanica”—the “Clockwork Orange.” Or what about Liverpool in the late 1970s and early ’80s, or AC Milan in the late 1980s and early ’90s, or Ajax under Louis van Gaal in the mid-’90s, and FC Barcelona today? All of them innovative teams that introduced a different way of playing that caught on internationally.
Before Frank Rijkaard arrived as manager, Barcelona had won few international trophies. Since then the team has adopted the style of play developed by Ajax and Johan Cruijff almost fifty years ago, although now with a contemporary ensemble of players: short, lithe, intelligent, with power and pace. The package differs from its predecessor because soccer has evolved. Yesterday’s defender played differently from today’s defender. In those days you only had to feint to one side and you were through and ready to cross. Today, wing backs are all forwards who stopped on their way to the top. They defend in different ways. Wide defenders would love to move up and join the attack.
Two national teams have missed out on these European developments, whether consciously or not. They play the same way they played forty years ago: Argentina and Brazil. That they still compete with the best testifies to the timelessness of their kind of soccer. In fact their success depends on the presence of individual talent.
Argentinians play purely physical soccer, with an incredible mentality and a heritage of powerful individuals such as Mario Kempes, Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi.
Brazilians love technique, and when they have a striker like Pelé, Romário, Bebeto or Ronaldo, they can make a difference at the highest level. It is due to these players that Brazil have been world champions so often.
Brazil lacked a top striker at the World Cup in 2014 in Brazil, and the Brazilians were shocked at the result. The way the Germans demolished them with their team spirit and their technical baggage has left a deep scar. In Brazil, the soccer world has been reexamining its situation. The side were never a tight machine. Although Neymar performed exceptionally well, the rest lagged far behind. He needs a better team to back him in future.
New developments
As the number of cameras around the field have increased and the soccer talk shows have multiplied, along with other social media, soccer has changed. Tear into an opponent the way players used to thirty years ago and the whole world comes down on you like a ton of bricks. In the old days such fouls were hardly ever noticed.
The atmosphere at the training ground is also transformed. As an eighteen-year-old, if you weren’t listening y
ou got a sharp kick and you flew three meters into the air. It was all part of a hard learning curve. These days it’s difficult to imagine, but back then the older players made sure you listened: you were playing with their money and their bonus. Young against old at training sessions: those were battles and blood flowed. All that has changed. I wouldn’t say improved or worsened, just changed. When I came to Chelsea, the second eleven trained in shorts. The whole season, rain or shine, winter too. Those poor guys were cold, that’s for sure. Their bare legs froze out there on the pitch. Not especially healthy, but in those days it was all part of the game.
Commerce
In my day, soccer was just beginning to become commercialized, both clubs and individuals. I didn’t have a sponsor for non-soccer-related products, such as pants, watches or perfume. I did do a commercial for a car, but that was all. That company provided a fleet of cars for the club.
I had a soccer-related contract with Adidas for boots and kit. I was an Adidas man, and even had my own Adidas line of clothes. After I was transferred to AC Milan, I switched to Lotto. I had to, although I wanted to stay with Adidas. However, my contract was with Adidas Benelux and since I was going to Italy, Adidas International would have had to take me. But they had no idea who Ruud Gullit was. I was too obscure for them to offer me a contract, so I switched to wearing Lotto boots. Their own design, by the way. A year later I won the Ballon d’Or as world soccer player of the year. Now I’m back with Adidas.
Nutrition
Food is important. Although little attention used to be paid to nutrition, today much has improved. At AC Milan they were years ahead of their time. I took the initiative and took a tolerance test at Milanello, because it’s good to know if you have an intolerance for anything in particular—which is different to an allergy, by the way. I discovered I should avoid yeast, cocoa, caffeine and milk. It really helped, because I genuinely felt a lot better, which naturally affects your performance.