by Michael Cox
But the best example of a foreign import offering something completely new was the Dutchman Ruud Gullit. Unquestionably one of the greatest players of his generation, having won the Ballon d’Or in 1987 and captained the Netherlands to European Championships glory the following year, Gullit was only the second fully formed superstar to join the Premier League when he signed for Chelsea in 1995, after Jürgen Klinsmann’s year-long spell at Tottenham the previous season. Gullit was an incredibly versatile player, comfortable operating in defence, midfield or attack. While that’s not entirely unusual for a Dutchman, considering the Netherlands’ love of total football that redefined tactical responsibilities, few were truly masters of every position like Gullit.
During his early teenage years Gullit was fielded in defence for DWS, a small club in the west of Amsterdam. He was renowned for his unusual approach to playing as a sweeper, receiving the ball at the back and charging forward on solo runs to turn defence into attack swiftly, which contradicted the short-passing principles that dominated youth football across Amsterdam thanks to Ajax’s dominance. Indeed, Gullit was always something of an outsider, not merely because he was an Amsterdamer who never represented Ajax. A tall, dreadlocked figure of Surinamese descent, he endured racism throughout his career, and upon accepting his Ballon d’Or trophy dedicated the award to the imprisoned Nelson Mandela.
He turned professional at Haarlem in 1979 and initially played centre-back before moving up front in his second season, then moved to Feyenoord in 1982, where he was generally fielded on the right wing. Here he was briefly in the same team as the visionary Johan Cruyff, who was not officially manager but effectively decided the tactics and coached his teammates. On one away trip Gullit and Cruyff started talking about football in the lift up to their hotel rooms, then continued the discussion long into the night. Cruyff – whose niece Gullit later married – advised his pupil that when he inevitably left Feyenoord and moved to a bigger club he needed to dominate the side, ensuring that it was built around him in order to suit his incredible, unique talents. ‘He gave me a new insight into tactics through his coaching and his way of talking about football,’ Gullit said.
Upon joining PSV in 1985, Gullit therefore became something of a Cruyff figure. He personally persuaded the club to change their kit, saying their red shirts looked uninspiring alongside black shorts and red socks, insisting upon white shorts and white socks instead. When he realised right-back Eric Gerets and right-winger René van der Gijp had no relationship, he personally concentrated upon improving their combination play, away from the manager. But more than anything, Gullit felt his best position was as a rampaging, attack-minded sweeper, with experienced midfielder Willy van de Kerkhof dropping back to cover. ‘As a central defender I could move into midfield and would dash from there into an attacking position,’ he explained. PSV won the league in both seasons that Gullit was at the club, and while he sometimes switched to a more attack-minded position, 46 league goals in two seasons is an extraordinary tally for a player generally deployed at the back.
Gullit spent his peak years, between 25 and 33, playing in Serie A, chiefly with AC Milan, where he won three league titles and two European Cups. Arrigo Sacchi had created the greatest four-man defence of all-time: Mauro Tassotti, Franco Baresi, Alessandro Costacurta and Paolo Maldini, so there was no place in defence for Gullit, who instead became a world-renowned attacking midfielder or forward, playing the same role in the Dutch national side. But Gullit always wanted to return to his old sweeper position.
In 1995 Glenn Hoddle came calling. Hoddle had been Chelsea’s player-manager for the past two seasons, often deploying himself as a sweeper, but realised his playing career was over and wanted to focus on management. Hoddle was a progressive manager who looked outside England for innovations and, recalling Gullit’s performances at the back for PSV earlier in his career, convinced the Dutchman to join the Premier League to reprise his old role. To Gullit it was that prospect, as much as anything else, that convinced him to join Chelsea. ‘My skills come out better as a sweeper,’ Gullit said at his unveiling, which stunned English journalists, who had witnessed Gullit dominating European football from an attacking midfield position, and were accustomed to centre-backs being limited, straightforward destroyers. In the official Premier League sticker album that season, every other player in the division was listed as ‘goalkeeper’, ‘defender’, ‘midfielder’ or ‘forward’. Gullit, however, was classified as a ‘libero’. He was considered unique.
Gullit started his Chelsea career in that sweeper role, but his technically and tactically limited teammates struggled to comprehend his attacking instincts. He remembers challenging for an aerial ball inside his own box, bringing it down on his chest, then laying it sideways to Michael Duberry. He heard two noises: first a gasp of astonishment from the Chelsea fans, and then Duberry screaming ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ as he thumped the ball into the stands. In among all that mayhem Gullit was a revelation – head and shoulders above any other Premier League centre-back in possession, as one of the world’s outstanding technicians playing in a role previously played primarily by cloggers. Gullit would receive the ball at the back, bring it forward, play a one-two with a midfielder and then find himself between the lines, acting as a number 10. ‘It was like watching an 18-year-old play among 12-year-olds,’ Hoddle marvelled. Opponents simply weren’t accustomed to the idea of treating opposition defenders as attacking threats, and Gullit always had such time on the ball, with one of Chelsea’s midfielders, often Nigel Spackman, playing the ‘Van de Kerkhof role’ and dropping back.
Match reports from Gullit’s debut, a 0–0 home draw with Everton, demonstrate the extent to which he was a revelation. ‘Ruud Gullit brought skills taken for granted in Holland and Italy to the Premiership, where the radar-controlled pass has yet to see off the longbow,’ said David Lacey’s enthusiastic Guardian report. ‘There were moments when Gullit laid the ball off at angles his new teammates didn’t realise existed … he has come to English football as a sweeper, but this is plainly not what he is about.’
Frank McGhee’s Observer report explored Gullit’s position a little further. ‘He scotched forever the public’s image of a sweeper’s job,’ it read. ‘Too often in the English game, any seasoned defender who can tackle a bit and whack the ball hard gets the job. Gullit proved it demands the most accomplished player in a team.’
In truth, 1995/96 wasn’t particularly successful for Chelsea. They finished in 11th place, although they reached the FA Cup semi-finals. Gullit was restricted to 21 appearances in all competitions because of injury, and after three months was usually operating in a midfield role, partly because his teammates simply couldn’t understand his game. ‘I would take a difficult ball, control it, make space and play a good ball in front of the right back,’ Gullit later recalled. ‘Except that he didn’t want that pass. Eventually Glenn said to me, “Ruud, it would be better if you do these things in midfield.”’
Hoddle left Stamford Bridge to take the England job after Euro 96, and chairman Ken Bates decided his replacement should be Gullit, who became the Premier League’s only foreign manager for a couple of months until Arsène Wenger arrived, and followed in Hoddle’s footsteps by acting as player-manager. One of Gullit’s first signings was skilled French defender Frank Leboeuf, who had recently been crowned La Gazzetta dello Sport’s ‘Libero of the Year’ – a marvellously niche and brilliantly Italian award – to continue the emphasis upon building from the back. During Gullit’s 18-month spell in charge he led Chelsea to the FA Cup in 1997, becoming the first foreign manager and the first black manager to win a major trophy in England. Some of Gullit’s tactical acumen during that FA Cup run was highly impressive – in the fourth round, against Liverpool, Chelsea found themselves 2–0 down at the break. But Gullit introduced striker Mark Hughes for left-back Scott Minto at half-time, switched formation to a radical 3–3–1–3, and Chelsea won 4–2. Their tactics in the semi-final against Wimble
don were also impressive, with an extremely aggressive offside trap disrupting Wimbledon’s long-ball approach.
Gullit was dismissed the following February in somewhat confusing circumstances, supposedly due to a personality clash with Bates rather than for on-field failings; Chelsea were second in the league, and making progress in the League Cup and Cup Winners’ Cup. They would eventually win both under Gullit’s successor as player-manager – Vialli, the man who later named that first all-foreign starting XI. Vialli was one of three crucial Italian signings by Gullit, who inevitably boasted tremendous knowledge of Serie A. The other two were Gianfranco Zola, the most important player in Chelsea’s development into a technical side, and Roberto Di Matteo, who not only netted in the FA Cup Final victories of 1997 and 2000, but like Vialli would later manage Chelsea, leading them to win the FA Cup and the Champions League in 2012.
As a manager Gullit reacted more quickly than anyone to the lifting of quotas on foreign imports. Just two of Gullit’s 14 Chelsea signings were British, and in a subsequent unhappy stint in charge of Newcastle just five of his 23 signings were British. He was strongly criticised in some quarters for his dependence upon foreigners but he tackled the critics head-on, almost introducing a new definition for the term. ‘I see that England is still not thinking in a European way,’ he complained. ‘Because someone from France is not a foreigner any more. You have to get used to that on this island.’ It was a brave statement. Indeed, it was Gullit, as much as Vialli, who contributed to Chelsea playing that all-foreign XI. Gullit recruited six of the 11 players, while Petrescu was a survivor from the Hoddle era. Only four were Vialli signings.
But amid the growing internationalism at Chelsea, Gullit – much like Wenger – was an Anglophile. He loved the variety in the Premier League, preaching the importance of passing football while also marvelling at Wimbledon’s effective long-ball game, which he considered typically English. ‘What the English must not do is play the European way,’ he said. ‘But I can feel something is changing at Chelsea and in the whole English game.’
Gullit particularly admired captain Dennis Wise, the throwback to the old days who, after a period of uncertainty, embraced Gullit’s regime while emphasising the need for an ‘English’ mentality. Wise handed a book of cockney rhyming slang to the new recruits upon their arrival. ‘There was still very much an English feeling in the dressing room and that was mainly down to Dennis, who was as English as you can get,’ Di Matteo later said. ‘He was very much the leader of the team and he let the others know what it meant to play in the Premier League.’ But during this period the dressing rooms at Chelsea’s training ground were peculiar: separate rooms, big enough for six players each. There was an English dressing room, an Italian dressing room, a French dressing room and a ‘rest of the world’ dressing room – the players later agreed it was terrible for team spirit.
It’s interesting that both Gullit and Wenger – the first two foreign managers to win silverware in England, and the managers who did the most to introduce foreign players to the Premier League – later became more sceptical about the increasing internationalism. ‘Only the really major players were ever transferred to foreign countries [pre-Bosman],’ Gullit said. ‘Since then, anyone can go anywhere, with a real over-abundance of average players as a result … but you can’t roll back the Bosman case – and even if you could, you would have to totally rewrite European legislation.’
Wenger – who, shortly before joining in 1996, had asked Arsenal’s board whether the supporters would accept two foreigners in the same side – felt similarly. In 2001 he surprisingly signed Everton striker Francis Jeffers and Ipswich goalkeeper Richard Wright alongside the earth-shattering capture of Sol Campbell from Tottenham. While Campbell was among Europe’s best centre-backs, neither Jeffers nor Wright had demonstrated the requisite quality, and started just 16 Arsenal league games between them. Why did the master of unearthing talented youngsters from obscure European leagues target substandard players? In Wenger’s words, it was to ‘re-Anglicise’ Arsenal, ‘so that English would remain the first, and only, language spoken in the dressing room’. Even foreign managers worried the Premier League was losing its English identity.
9
Big Sam & Long Balls
‘I remembered watching Wimbledon on television during the 1980s, so I can’t say I was surprised by this style of football. I knew there would be a lot of long balls in England.’
Rafael Benítez
In the decade immediately preceding the Premier League, English football specialised in direct football. While the most successful side of the 1980s, Liverpool, developed a passing game admired across Europe, English football gradually eschewed this philosophy and concentrated on route one football. Goalkeepers and defenders would thump the ball downfield towards a big centre-forward who specialised in aerial battles, while his strike partner and the midfielders would hunt for scraps, attempting to win the ‘second ball’. Patient build-up play was considered a waste of time.
England’s love of direct football was summarised by the beliefs of Charles Hughes, the FA’s director of coaching for much of the 1980s. Hughes also worked with Charles Reep, a former RAF wing commander who was famously among football’s first statistical analysts. Reep attempted to prove – with figures that were generally misleading, sometimes illogical and occasionally entirely selective – that the optimum attacking approach was about direct play and hitting long balls. Hughes’s most famous coaching manual, The Winning Formula, was dismissive of possession football, stating that 85 per cent of goals were scored from moves of five or fewer passes, and he advocated launching the ball into the ‘positions of maximum opportunity’ (POMO) immediately.
Few managers associate themselves with Hughes and many more are determined to distance themselves from him. But throughout the 1980s long-ball football was common across England and various underdogs enjoyed incredible success with direct play. Wimbledon and Watford both rose from the fourth tier to the top flight in the space of five seasons, with Wimbledon winning the FA Cup and Watford finishing as runners-up in both league and FA Cup. Both were renowned as straightforward, uncompromising long-ball sides. Watford’s manager, Graham Taylor, would later be appointed England manager and was in charge at the formation of the Premier League.
The Premier League’s early years, however, witnessed a notable decline in the popularity of route one football. Rule changes made passing football more viable – the back-pass revision was an obvious factor, while rules governing tackling became much stricter, with the challenge from behind now completely outlawed, ensuring forwards could receive passes into feet without being instantly clattered. A significant improvement in the quality of pitches shouldn’t be underestimated, either; it’s difficult to pass the ball across a mud bath, much easier on a bowling green.
The route one poster boys during the 1990s were still Wimbledon. The ‘Crazy Gang’, renowned for their macho behaviour and somewhat amateurish approach, punched above their weight under the no-nonsense Joe Kinnear, courtesy of incessant long balls. They continued that philosophy by appointing Egil Olsen, who had taken Norway to second in the FIFA World Rankings with a particularly direct style of football. Olsen had also become close friends with Reep, who offered to act as Olsen’s statistical analyst at Wimbledon despite being 95 years old – this was not modern, progressive football. Wimbledon’s relegation in 2001 – coincidentally the same year as Watford’s, during Taylor’s second spell at the club – seemingly marked the death of direct football at the highest level. But then along came Sam Allardyce’s Bolton Wanderers.
Upon their arrival in the Premier League Bolton were almost ignored. They’d been promoted alongside two rather more exciting clubs: former Premier League champions Blackburn, who returned after two seasons away, and the intriguing proposition of Fulham, whose chairman Mohamed Al-Fayed was investing big money and promising to build ‘the Manchester United of the south’. Bolton, meanwhile, had suffered immediate rel
egation from their previous two Premier League experiences and were favourites to finish bottom. But this trio would create history, the first time in the Premier League era that all three promoted teams avoided relegation, with Bolton making the greatest immediate impact.
Bolton’s first game of 2001/02 was a trip to Leicester City, where they started sensationally and raced into a 4–0 lead by half-time, eventually winning 5–0. They followed that shock victory with two more wins, against Middlesbrough and Liverpool, and three games into the season found themselves top of the top flight for the first time since 1891. They were unsurprisingly unable to sustain such outstanding form, but over the next six seasons Bolton would establish themselves as the Premier League’s most impressive small club, challenging for the Champions League places, routinely upsetting bigger sides and demonstrating that direct football could still succeed in the Premier League.
Among the increasingly studious foreign managers in the Premier League, Allardyce was a distinctly old-school character. As a player he’d risen through the ranks at Bolton, spending nine years at the club as a physical, one-footed centre-back. Playing until the age of 39, Allardyce featured in all four divisions and was renowned for his aerial dominance. His continual heading of the ball for two decades meant he was taking two pre-match aspirins during his twilight years, and he has suffered from neck problems since his retirement.
