The Mixer: The Story of Premier League Tactics, from Route One to False Nines

by Michael Cox

  Schmeichel, meanwhile also helped revolutionise the Premier League in a different manner entirely. Incredibly, of the 242 players who started a Premier League match on the Premier League’s opening weekend, just 11 were foreign. By virtue of simple probability, you’d expect only one of the 11 to be a goalkeeper. Instead, it was four: Schmeichel, plus Wimbledon’s Dutchman Hans Segers, Canadian international Craig Forrest at Ipswich and Czech Jan Stejskal for QPR. A year later, with overseas outfielders still rare, there were six more foreign regulars between the posts: Australian Mark Bosnich at Aston Villa, Russian Dmitri Kharine at Chelsea, Norwegian Erik Thorstvedt at Tottenham, Zimbabwe’s Bruce Grobbelaar, who had regained his place at Liverpool, and two more Czechs, Luděk Mikloško of West Ham and Pavel Srníček of Newcastle. Jim Barron, then the goalkeeping coach at Aston Villa, noted how foreign goalkeepers were more proactive than their English counterparts, commanding their box better and possessing superior distribution. England had always prided itself on the quality of its goalkeepers, but foreign imports were evolving the role.

  Goalkeepers in the Premier League’s first couple of seasons were therefore significant for two clear reasons. First, the change to the back-pass law meant they broadened their skill set and became all-rounders rather than specialists, a development subsequently witnessed in every other position. Second, there was a concerted shift towards foreign players at the expense of homegrown talent, another process that would be replicated across the pitch. Goalkeepers were traditionally considered outsiders, but now they were leading the way into football’s modern age.

  2

  Cantona & Counters

  ‘Being French, to me, is first and foremost being a revolutionary.’

  Eric Cantona

  Upon the formation of the Premier League, Manchester United hadn’t lifted the league trophy in a quarter of a century, which made their dominance of its early years even more remarkable. Incredibly, Alex Ferguson’s side triumphed in four of the first five seasons.

  These five years coincided with the half-decade reign of Eric Cantona, and United’s only failure during this period, finishing second in 1994/95, came when the fantastic French forward was suspended for half the campaign. His impact upon United was extraordinary, turning them from also-rans to consistent champions almost overnight, and his influence on the Premier League was unparalleled. Cantona, more than anyone else, popularised technical football.

  At a time when foreign players were still rare, this was a Frenchman of Italian and Spanish descent who strolled into English football stadiums, collar upturned, as if he owned them. Cantona was unlike anything England had previously encountered: when listing his inspirations, he mentioned Diego Maradona and Johan Cruyff, but also Pablo Picasso, Jim Morrison and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Brilliantly, when he referenced French poet Rimbaud, journalists mistakenly believed he was talking about 1980s action movie character Rambo. Cantona was almost a satirical character, a French philosopher trapped in English dressing rooms, where cutting up teammates’ clothes was considered the height of wit – and he clearly played along with the act. Teammates said he spoke English well, yet when quizzed by tabloid reporters his language skills suddenly deserted him, preserving his status as the baffled outsider. When Manchester United’s squad went for a post-match drink, the standard round was 17 lagers and one glass of champagne.

  It wasn’t entirely about Cantona being from abroad, however. He’d earned a similar reputation in France, where he bounced between various Ligue 1 clubs with alarming regularity, usually after serious breaches of discipline. In his enlightening biography of the man, Philippe Auclair notes that in the late 1980s Cantona had become ‘the first celebrity footballer in his country’s history’, known primarily for his peculiar cultural references rather than his pure footballing ability. He’d risen to national prominence following his displays for France’s U21 side, who featured heavily in the sports programming of the new, innovative subscription TV channel Canal+. Cantona was the perfect protagonist for the trendy channel’s focus and, sure enough, he became the ideal figurehead for Sky and the Premier League, too.

  Cantona’s most infamous moment in English football came in January 1995. Just after being dismissed for kicking out at Crystal Palace defender Richard Shaw, he reacted to abuse from Palace supporter Matthew Simmons by launching himself over Selhurst Park’s advertising hoardings to perform an extravagant ‘kung-fu’ kick on Simmons, an incident that brought an eight-month worldwide football ban and effectively ended his international career. While a disgraceful act, it was nevertheless a momentous incident for the Premier League; it featured heavily on news bulletins in countries as distant as Australia and New Zealand, the first time that England’s new top flight had become a genuinely global story.

  It was probably inevitable the division would initially receive attention for negative reasons, considering the problems of the 1980s, but as reports explained Cantona’s background, they introduced viewers to the most intriguing character in English football, someone who clearly bucked the stereotype. British newspapers went to town: the Sun featured the incident on their front page two days running, on the second with a panel reading ‘The Shame of Cantona: Full story pages 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 22, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47 & 48’. The Premier League was big news. After Cantona successfully appealed against a two-week prison sentence for his attack, he reluctantly attended a press conference, where he slowly, thoughtfully told the assembled press: ‘When the seagulls … follow the trawler … it’s because they think … sardines … will be thrown into the sea. Thank you very much.’ He then stood up, shook the hand of his lawyer and swiftly departed to stunned laughter.

  The crucial factor in Cantona’s image, however, was that he wasn’t simply different to every other Premier League player in terms of personality; he was also different to every other Premier League player in terms of footballing style. The references to philosophers and artists worked precisely because he was a footballing genius who boasted guile, creativity and unpredictability. He thrived upon space between the lines and was a creator as much as a goalscorer, boasting the Premier League’s best-ever assists-per-game record. He loved chipping goalkeepers, he casually rolled home penalties, and he produced a succession of outside-of-the-foot flicks and elaborate, stabbed, dinked passes to teammates.

  Cantona was also exceptional in a physical sense, ready for the rough and tumble of the English top flight. When Cantona had finally burnt his bridges in his home country, France assistant manager Gérard Houllier – keen to find Cantona a top-level club for the sake of the national side – suggested England specifically because Cantona possessed the strength and aerial power to survive. Cantona was six foot two, and his most distinctive physical feature was his chest, eternally puffed out. He held up the ball excellently, shrugged opponents aside nonchalantly, and a surprising number of his goals and assists came with his head. He was also quicker than assumed, as his speedy Manchester United teammate Ryan Giggs often mentioned.

  Cantona didn’t move straight from France to Manchester, however, and his introduction to English football was somewhat inauspicious. Sheffield Wednesday accommodated him for a week, although the precise purpose of this exercise was seemingly lost in translation; Cantona believed he was coming to sign, journalists assumed it was a trial, while manager Trevor Francis insists he was simply doing a friend a favour by letting him train. Whatever the truth, Cantona’s only appearance in a Wednesday shirt was, utterly bizarrely, in a six-a-side friendly against American indoor specialists Baltimore Blast, which ended in an 8–3 defeat at Sheffield Arena, where Francis had enjoyed a Simply Red concert earlier in the week.

  Cantona ended up 35 miles north, signing for Leeds United midway through their 1991/92 championship-winning season. Although he only scored three goals in 15 appearances that season – none of them directly winning a point – he became something of a cult figure among Leeds supporters, who once improvised a questionable version of ‘La Marseillaise’ in tribute
to their star centre-forward. But Leeds didn’t suit Cantona; manager Howard Wilkinson distrusted flair players and stated bluntly that no foreign forward had ever succeeded in English football, underlining how Cantona was fighting against the tide. ‘Can Eric adapt to life in England or can we adapt to Cantona? Do I ask him to change or do I ask Leeds to change to the French style?’ pondered Wilkinson, before declaring, ‘There will be no French revolution because that, in our football terms, would inevitably suffer a defeat.’ Cantona was often bypassed as Leeds played a succession of long balls, although he started 1992/93 in tremendous form, hitting the only hat-trick in Charity Shield history, then the first-ever Premier League hat-trick. Still, his relationship with Wilkinson, and his history of rebelling against authoritarian managers, meant that he never had a long-term future at Elland Road. Ferguson and Manchester United pounced.

  The story about Cantona’s transfer is famous – Wilkinson phoned Manchester United to enquire about the availability of full-back Denis Irwin, and Ferguson took the opportunity to ask about Cantona. But it wasn’t simply a fortunate swoop: Ferguson had already been seriously interested, and had specifically asked centre-backs Gary Pallister and Steve Bruce for their opinion after Leeds’s visit to Old Trafford. Both suggested he was a difficult opponent because he took up unusual positions, and Cantona had also produced a spectacular bicycle kick, saved by Peter Schmeichel, that drew an unusual round of applause from across Old Trafford for an away player.

  Crucially, as revealed in Auclair’s biography, Ferguson had recently attended a Rangers v Leeds Champions League tie, sitting alongside Houllier, and after Cantona reacted angrily when substituted, Houllier expressed concern, wryly remarking that he’d need to find Cantona another club. Ferguson was immediately interested, but only pounced after youngster Dion Dublin, a considerably more straightforward striker, suffered a broken leg. Ferguson sniffed around other players: creative forwards like Matt Le Tissier and Peter Beardsley, but also more typical strikers like David Hirst and Brian Deane. He was open-minded about the type of forward he required, because first-choice striker Mark Hughes was a one-in-three rather than one-in-two goalscorer, and many suggested he needed to play alongside a ruthless goalscorer, prompting Ferguson’s interest in Alan Shearer before he joined Blackburn that summer. But Cantona was for sale when others weren’t, and joined United for the ludicrously small fee of £1.2m – incredible considering Ferguson had unsuccessfully offered over £3m for Hirst.

  The purchase of a player in Cantona’s mould revolutionised United’s tactical approach overnight. While Ferguson unquestionably deserves enormous credit for United’s success during this period, his side lacked a defined style until the Frenchman’s arrival. Ferguson encouraged attack-minded football with width, in keeping with United’s traditions – but there was a rudimentary approach in the final third, epitomised by the time winger Andrei Kanchelskis stormed off the training pitch in frustration at yet another crossing drill, muttering ‘English football is shit’ on his way – not an unreasonable comment at the time. Ferguson was considered a man-manager rather than a footballing philosopher or astute tactician. Schmeichel, who would become Cantona’s roommate on away trips, summarised Cantona’s first training session concisely. ‘From that day, Manchester United’s style of play changed,’ he said. ‘The arrival of Cantona suddenly made it clear to the coaching staff exactly how the team should play to be successful.’ Cantona was the catalyst for United’s revolution, and their success set the tone for the tactical development of rival Premier League clubs, which was initially accelerated by the influence of inspirational foreign players rather than managerial philosophies.

  Cantona was capable of playing either as a traditional centre-forward or as a playmaker, having filled both roles at various stages of his career. For United, he was generally used in the number 10 role behind a traditional striker, effectively turning United’s 4–4–2 system into a 4–4–1–1. The Premier League had very few deep-lying forwards in this mould; Teddy Sheringham, who would later replace Cantona at United, became renowned as an excellent ‘withdrawn’ forward, although at this stage was more of a target man, winning the inaugural Premier League Golden Boot with 22 goals, having transferred from Nottingham Forest to Tottenham three games into the campaign. Southampton’s Matt Le Tissier was in a similar mould to Cantona, but was suffering under the management of Ian Branfoot, who wanted his defenders to thump long balls downfield. Neither Sheringham nor Le Tissier had yet been capped by England. Peter Beardsley, another of Ferguson’s targets, was the most similar type of forward, although often found himself out of the Everton side. Besides, Beardsley lacked Cantona’s flamboyance and wasn’t superstar material – he was among the quietest, humblest players in the top flight, whereas Cantona was surely the most arrogant, albeit with some justification.

  English football was historically suspicious of deep-lying forwards, despite the likes of Ferenc Puskás and Diego Maradona causing the national team so much misery over the years. It was considered a foreign role, and extravagance in English football was usually the domain of tricky wingers, with Tom Finney, Stanley Matthews and George Best among the most revered players. Even Paul Gascoigne, England’s most talented player of this era, was a number 8 rather than a number 10, a midfielder who burst forward from deep. It was unfortunate the Premier League didn’t witness Gascoigne at his best: he spent its first six years with Lazio and then Rangers, only returning to England with Middlesbrough and Everton in his thirties. Ferguson, incidentally, says being beaten by Spurs to Gascoigne’s signature in 1988 is one of his biggest regrets in football, and Gascoigne would later phone Ferguson in the summer of 1995 (when Cantona was serving his eight-month ban and intending to leave England) begging for a move to United. Ferguson, however, concentrated on convincing Cantona to stay.

  Ferguson had a close relationship with Cantona throughout his five years at Old Trafford. Whereas Ferguson took a schoolmasterly approach to the majority of his players, Cantona was afforded the rare privilege of a cup of tea with his manager before training every day, and while it’s difficult to imagine anyone entirely understood Cantona, Ferguson came closest. Managers often suggest the toughest part of their job is affording star players special treatment without prompting dissent from the rest of the squad, and Ferguson quickly realised he needed to make allowances for Cantona, sparing him from blasts of ‘the hairdryer’, as Manchester United players called Ferguson’s tendency to scream in their faces after bad performances.

  Winger Lee Sharpe tells an amusing, revealing anecdote about the United squad’s reception at Manchester Town Hall shortly after their first title victory. The rest of the squad wore smart black suits, but Sharpe arrived in an olive-green silk outfit with a green tie. This inevitably prompted Ferguson to come over and admonish him, at which point Cantona strolled into the room with a suit, no tie – and red Nike trainers. Ferguson let out a cry of frustration and simply stormed off. A similar incident occurred when Ferguson was about to criticise Sharpe for getting a skinhead haircut on a pre-season tour, only to suddenly notice Cantona had the same, forcing him to bite his tongue. ‘There were times when the different treatment Eric got was laughable,’ Sharpe complained. ‘It was one set of rules for him, and another for the likes of me.’ After Cantona’s infamous kung-fu kick at Selhurst Park, Ferguson’s first instinct in the dressing room afterwards was to complain about sloppy defending for Crystal Palace’s equaliser.

  In general, footballers accept a star teammate being indulged, and on the pitch Cantona was effectively handed a free role with licence to roam wherever he pleased. He contributed little in defensive situations, as Roy Keane later recalled. ‘Often we’d give him a bollocking for not tracking back. We certainly did more than our share of running for him. Then, just when exasperation was being felt, and expressed, Eric would produce a bit of magic to turn the game our way.’ English football was learning that players in Cantona’s mould were worth embracing, worth freeing from defen
sive responsibilities, and a footballing culture that valued hard work and commitment above everything else was forced to reconsider its principles. United’s youth coach Eric Harrison, upon first seeing Cantona in training, said he ‘wanted to kidnap him and spend a week talking to him about football’.

  Tactically, opponents simply weren’t structured for stopping Cantona. Ordinarily, centre-backs were fighting against centre-forwards, and central midfielders were involved in running battles with their opposite numbers. Players like Cantona, who interpreted the game differently and dropped into the space between opposition defenders and midfielders, were able to enjoy plenty of time on the ball. ‘Eric, no matter the tempo or the maelstrom of Premier League football,’ Ferguson said, ‘has that ability to put his foot on the ball and to make his passes. That in itself is almost a miracle.’ So much of this, however, was simply about Cantona’s initial positioning, combined with his ability to hold off defenders when they approached. Previously, United had focused on attacking down the flanks, or hitting longer passes to centre-forward Hughes, who was superb at bringing down high balls and feeding teammates. But Cantona orchestrated United’s attacking play wonderfully, and like the very best number 10s – particularly Maradona, but also, in Premier League terms, Dennis Bergkamp and Gianfranco Zola – was a selfless footballer who recognised that his individual freedom should be used for the collective good.