by Michael Cox
England manager Glenn Hoddle repeatedly floated the idea of using Jamie Redknapp at sweeper, a position the Liverpool midfielder never played before. As we’ve seen, Hoddle had tried something similar at Chelsea, briefly using Ruud Gullit there, and repeatedly spoke of his determination ‘to play a real sweeper, someone who can come out with the ball like Germany’s Sammer’, so the emergence of Ferdinand was hugely exciting. ‘He can hit it right to left 60 yards, but I’m not sure he can go left to right,’ said Hoddle. His defensive attributes were less of a consideration, Hoddle thinking instinctively about Ferdinand’s ability in possession.
Around this time Terry Venables, Hoddle’s predecessor, highlighted both Ferdinand and Sol Campbell as thoroughly modern centre-backs. ‘I look at Rio and Sol and see a new type of English defender,’ he said. ‘They are good examples of the way our attitude towards bringing in young defenders is changing for the better. For too long we failed to train players from a young age to bring the ball out of defence … both Rio and Sol were forwards at one time and that is a real help.’ But Hoddle’s successor, Keegan, was surprisingly not a fan, omitting Ferdinand from his Euro 2000 squad and telling him he’d probably win more caps if he were French, Brazilian or Dutch. The continual theme throughout Ferdinand’s career was him appearing entirely un-English, which is curious considering he exclusively played under British managers at club level.
A few months later Ferdinand moved to Leeds for a staggering £18m, becoming both the most expensive defender in the world and Britain’s most expensive player, a status usually reserved for midfielders or attackers. At his unveiling even Leeds manager David O’Leary appeared stunned by the size of the fee, having expected to pay £12m to £15m. He bizarrely volunteered the fact that his wife considered the figure ‘obscene’, an unusual line from a manager welcoming a club-record signing. It was a particularly bold move from Leeds, given that the European Union was at this point threatening to rule football’s entire transfer system illegal, considering it a restriction of trade, which would have been even more revolutionary than the Bosman ruling. There was a serious possibility that the system would be overhauled, players would be allowed to move clubs for no fee and every footballer’s transfer value would be wiped out overnight. Leeds, however, were willing to take a financial gamble, which rather summed up their approach throughout this era.
At this stage Leeds were a serious contender for the Premier League title, having finished third in the previous campaign, and in Ferdinand’s first season they reached the semi-finals of the Champions League. They were reaping the rewards of their excellent youth system, partly thanks to Howard Wilkinson’s groundwork in the early 1990s, which developed players such as Harry Kewell, Jonathan Woodgate, Ian Harte, Alan Smith and Paul Robinson. O’Leary somewhat irritatingly referred to his players as ‘my babies’, although if ever a team deserved that nickname it was his Leeds; in 1999/2000 the average age of their starting XI was 24 years and 162 days, the youngest in the Premier League era.
In the early 1960s Don Revie famously changed Leeds’s home kit from yellow and blue to all-white in order to imitate Real Madrid, and in the early 2000s they often appeared to be replicating Real’s ‘galácticos’ policy, albeit on a smaller scale. Their rise owed much to copious overspending on superfluous individuals, eventually leaving the club facing financial ruin; at one point, O’Leary could choose from Mark Viduka, Robbie Fowler, Robbie Keane, Michael Bridges, Alan Smith and Harry Kewell as attacking options. But whereas Real stockpiled attackers and ignored defensive problems, Leeds’s rise and fall was marked by the recruitment and sale of their centre-backs.
Their purchase of Ferdinand wasn’t strictly necessary, but they were guarding against the risk of losing star centre-back Woodgate – another midfielder in his youth-team days – for a significant period of time, as he and teammate Lee Bowyer were on trial over the vicious attack on a student in a late-night street fight in Leeds city centre. Both were charged with causing grievous bodily harm with intent and affray; Bowyer was cleared on both counts but Woodgate convicted on the latter charge. Another centre-back, Michael Duberry, also became entangled in the case and was later found not guilty of perverting the cause of justice. Bowyer played the best football of his career during this period, but Woodgate’s form was badly affected, convincing Leeds to sign another centre-back.
Ferdinand was registered too late to play in Leeds’s home match against Arsenal, and after being presented to the Elland Road crowd he watched Woodgate and captain Lucas Radebe perform magnificently in an impressive 1–0 victory. He made his debut away at Leicester, and in keeping with the feeling that Ferdinand necessitated a back three, O’Leary ditched his 4–4–2 and fielded 3–5–2 for the first time, with Ferdinand slotting in between Woodgate and Radebe. It backfired spectacularly; Leeds conceded three headed goals in the first half-hour, Woodgate was sacrificed before half-time as Leeds reverted to 4–4–2, then Radebe was sent off. Leeds lost 3–1. For their next game, a Champions League trip to Lazio, Ferdinand was ineligible, and Woodgate and Radebe were again outstanding together in another 1–0 victory. So where did Ferdinand fit in?
O’Leary could hardly leave out Leeds’s record signing, and Ferdinand established himself as first-choice centre-back, playing alongside one of Radebe, Woodgate and Dominic Matteo. His positional sense improved immeasurably under O’Leary, who was an outstanding centre-back during his playing days and had worked as assistant under George Graham, the best defensive coach around. He made Ferdinand work hard on his heading ability, while Ferdinand credits sports psychologist Keith Power for improving his concentration skills, encouraging him to visualise his defensive tasks before a game. Ferdinand became the complete defender and, after being explicitly instructed not to dribble forward in possession by new England manager Sven-Göran Eriksson, there was little sign of his attack-minded past at the 2002 World Cup, where he was magnificent. That’s when Manchester United pounced for £30m, another British record, and another world record for a defender after Juventus’s Lillian Thuram had briefly earned that status.
Ferdinand’s departure was the beginning of the end for Leeds, even if he was one of few players they made a profit on. As Matteo, his replacement as skipper, said, ‘His departure was a massive moment, not because we didn’t have the capability in the squad to replace Rio, but because it sent out a message to all the other top players at the club that Leeds were on the wane.’ Leeds were now a selling club. In the midst of the long-running negotiations O’Leary rowed with Leeds chairman Peter Ridsdale about Ferdinand’s imminent departure and was sacked, replaced by Terry Venables.
Ridsdale claimed that Ferdinand’s departure wasn’t a huge blow and that he had simply been a temporary replacement for Woodgate, whom Leeds considered the superior defender. Woodgate was now Leeds’s great hope, but he lasted only six months before Leeds sold him to Newcastle in a further effort to raise funds. He was the last player Leeds had wanted to sell, with Ridsdale even approaching Liverpool in a desperate attempt to offload Harry Kewell instead, then considered to be Leeds’s outstanding footballer. Liverpool needed to wait until the summer, however, so Woodgate departed.
Venables, who had been assured that Woodgate wouldn’t leave, threatened to quit but was convinced to stay for another couple of months before his inevitable departure. At the press conference confirming Woodgate’s sale, Venables looked furious alongside Ridsdale, who famously declared, ‘Should we have spent so heavily in the past? Probably not. But we lived the dream.’ That moment, coming after the departure of Leeds’s most valued player – a centre-back – felt like an obituary. Leeds lasted just one more season in the Premier League, and have never returned. The subtext to their decline, however, was that centre-backs were now a prized commodity.
At Manchester United Ferdinand developed into one of Europe’s best footballers. There was no longer any suggestion that he required a 3–5–2 to thrive, although he always excelled when playing alongside an old-schoo
l stopper: Campbell and John Terry at international level, and particularly Nemanja Vidić at United, the two forming the outstanding centre-back duo of the Premier League era. He was especially notable for the cool, calm manner he regained possession, never jumping into tackles and rarely provoking trouble with referees. Towards the end of his career his disciplinary record was exemplary, and he once went 28 league games without conceding a foul, never mind collecting a yellow card. When asked for the two toughest defenders in the Premier League, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink named Martin Keown and Ferdinand, but whereas Keown left him covered in bruises, Ferdinand ‘you almost don’t notice.’
What was notable about the final years of Ferdinand’s career, however, was that he struggled to cope with his loss of pace, a surprising problem for such an intelligent performer. In Manchester United’s thrilling 4–3 victory over Manchester City in September 2009, Ferdinand allowed City back into the game with a careless error, playing an unnecessary scooped pass on the halfway line straight to Craig Bellamy, who breezed past him with ease and scored. In fairness almost every other Premier League centre-back would have been unable to keep pace with Bellamy, but it was unusual to see Ferdinand struggling. ‘Since he has been with us, he’s has been fantastically consistent, top-class,’ said Sir Alex Ferguson in 2011. ‘He is still one of the best footballers in the country in terms of using the ball, he can still tackle, he can still head and he still has a great presence. But what has changed for Rio is that he has lost that electric yard of pace that he had a few years ago and so he needs to rearrange his game a little bit. He is almost 33, and when you arrive in your 30s you have to tailor your game in a different way. We have all faced that decisive moment when you suddenly realise you can no longer do everything you used to be able to, and you have to change your game. I had to do it myself when I lost my sharpness, other players at this club have had to adapt and Rio will have to do the same.’
Ferguson was frustrated by Ferdinand and Vidić’s insistence on sitting back and protecting the space in behind, rather than moving up the pitch to close down Lionel Messi in that year’s 3–1 Champions League Final defeat to Barcelona. There was clearly no obvious solution to stopping Pep Guardiola’s side, but Ferguson became convinced that the lack of pace in his back line was a serious problem. A couple of months later Ferdinand was worryingly poor in a 3–0 defeat away at Newcastle, often ending up miles behind the rest of the defensive line in an attempt to hide his lack of speed. He was struggling badly against quick attackers and only won one further England cap; this was somewhat unfair, as he seemed to be deliberately overlooked after John Terry was accused – and then banned and fined by the FA, having been cleared in a court of law – of racially abusing Ferdinand’s younger brother Anton. Ferdinand recovered to play excellently in 2012/13, although he was generally fielded alongside a younger, quicker centre-back partner like Jonny Evans or Chris Smalling, rather than Vidić.
By now Ferdinand’s ability in possession was nothing particularly noteworthy. ‘I’ve heard for a decade how Rio Ferdinand is an elegant passer of the ball who starts attacks from the back,’ Jamie Carragher once complained. ‘He must have hit a 60-yard pass when he was 17 because I haven’t seen much evidence since.’ But that underlines the huge transformation in centre-back styles over the course of his career, with Ferdinand the most influential defender in English football during this period. Now, the world’s most expensive defenders are John Stones and David Luiz, centre-backs initially considered to be weak defensively. Ferdinand had changed perceptions of what top-class centre-backs needed to be: all-rounders who could be moulded into defenders.
After leaving Manchester United in 2014 Ferdinand considered retiring but was convinced to play one final season at QPR, where he had trained as a ten-year-old. He was managed by Harry Redknapp, Ferdinand’s first West Ham manager, who recruited Hoddle, Ferdinand’s first England manager, to take training sessions. To complete the feeling Ferdinand’s career had come full circle, QPR started their campaign playing 3–5–2 to accommodate Ferdinand at sweeper. That QPR campaign ended in relegation, although Ferdinand played a minimal part, his mind understandably elsewhere as his wife, Rebecca, died towards the end of the season. Ferdinand quietly confirmed his retirement the following month – there was little fanfare amid his personal loss, and his career never received the plaudits it deserved.
But it shouldn’t be forgotten that Ferdinand changed perceptions of centre-backs in England: they weren’t necessarily unglamorous, functional footballers who simply tackled and headed. They could be fast, intelligent, comfortable in possession and the most valuable players in the country. In a division defined by foreign imports, Ferdinand is the most influential Englishman of the Premier League era.
12
The Makélélé Role
‘I didn’t invent anything … I am simply a more complete footballer.’
Claude Makélélé
A seven-year Premier League period incorporating the turn of the century was dominated by two clubs: Arsenal and Manchester United. It remains the Premier League’s most enduring rivalry – the title fight was usually a two-horse race without the league becoming a complete duopoly, and the rivalry itself was the perfect mixture: mostly animosity, with a hint of begrudging respect.
Then, in 2003, things changed with Roman Abramovich’s takeover of Chelsea. His wealth and relentless acquisition of new signings meant Chelsea became serious contenders almost overnight, having spent the previous few years on the fringes of the title race. Arsenal and Manchester United have never since finished as the Premier League’s top two, and this significant shift from red to blue dominance was mirrored by the period’s most revered defensive midfielders.
Arsenal and Manchester United’s rivalry was personified by the clashes between Patrick Vieira and Roy Keane, two physical, combative captains. There has never been a more significant personal battle in the Premier League era; their scraps were legendary and played a huge role in dictating the outcome of top-of-the-table clashes. Both relished their battles. ‘They made me a better player,’ said Keane, while Vieira described the Irishman as his ‘favourite enemy’. Then, however a different type of defensive midfielder emerged, with Chelsea’s Claude Makélélé, signed from Real Madrid, becoming the Premier League’s most celebrated player in that mould. It symbolised the changing of the guard.
Vieira and Keane’s most famous encounter didn’t even take place on the pitch, occurring in the Highbury tunnel shortly before Manchester United’s 4–2 victory over Arsenal in February 2005. It made for tremendous viewing – and it was, effectively, a TV-only event away from the spectators, who remained oblivious. Vieira had confronted Gary Neville shortly beforehand, who went and told Keane. United’s captain was seemingly furious Vieira had picked on Neville rather than himself and charged down the narrow Highbury tunnel to confront him, bizarrely complaining that Vieira wasn’t the ‘nice guy’ everyone made out. Their insults were often laughably childish, Keane annoying Vieira by asking him why he banged on about his home country of Senegal when he chose to play for France instead, Vieira responding by mentioning Keane’s 2002 World Cup walkout. ‘It was grown men, bitching,’ as Keane admitted.
But by this stage their rivalry had effectively jumped the shark. The media were portraying Arsenal v Manchester United as purely Vieira v Keane, to the extent many believe Keane’s intimidation of Vieira in the tunnel was a crucial factor in United’s victory that day. This is a curious reading of events, considering Vieira opened the scoring as Arsenal dominated the first half, leading 2–1 at the break. If ‘intimidation’ was really a factor, it took an hour to kick in. The less dramatic truth, of course, was that United simply outperformed Arsenal technically and tactically.
Vieira and Keane were now past their best, and this would be their last Premier League meeting: Arsenal sold Vieira in the summer, United released Keane a few months later. The reasons for their demise were similar: although both were considered defensive mi
dfielders when they were actually somewhere between defensive midfielders and box-to-box players at their peak, and preferred playing alongside more cautious partners who allowed them freedom to attack. Vieira played his best football next to Emmanuel Petit from 1997 to 2000 then Gilberto Silva from 2002 to 2005, and during the two-year intermission performed better next to the functional, limited Gilles Grimandi rather than Edu or Ray Parlour, who pushed forward. Similarly, Keane named Paul Ince as his favourite midfield colleague at Manchester United, and after Ince left, some of Keane’s outstanding individual performances – in the 3–2 victory at Juventus in 1999, for example – came when Sir Alex Ferguson played the defensive Nicky Butt instead of the more creative Paul Scholes.
Both players’ physical attributes had declined, but neither were capable of switching to a pure holding role. Arsène Wenger decided to sell Vieira to Juventus in 2005 following the emergence of a creative midfielder who needed licence to attack. ‘I played Cesc Fàbregas in a 4–4–2 with Patrick Vieira and I saw it did not work,’ Wenger said. ‘Then I had the decision to make about letting Patrick go, because Gilberto and Vieira worked, Gilberto and Fàbregas worked, but I could not play Fàbregas and Vieira.’ Fàbregas, Arsenal’s future, needed a covering midfielder, and Vieira simply wasn’t that man.
Similarly, Ferguson believes his fallout with Keane stemmed from asking the Irishman to play a more restricted role. ‘Acting on a conviction that some of his strengths had been stolen from him by injury and age, we tried to change his job description … we altered his role by discouraging him from charging all over the pitch and making forward runs,’ said Ferguson. ‘Our solution was to tell him to stay in that same area of central midfield. He could control the game from there. Deep down, I believe, he knew that better than anyone, but he simply could not bring himself to abandon his old talismanic role.’ Keane insists he was ‘relieved’ to be doing less running, but Ferguson’s comment about the difference between Keane’s true thoughts and his actual performances makes sense.