Will Ferguson’s shackles prevent Rooney from being a great?

The downpour in Manchester on Saturday not only signalled in the fight for the title but also brought an end to Wayne Rooney’s marathon goal drought.

The United forward had not scored a league goal at Old Trafford since November. But then Rooney has never been devastatingly prolific. Since his impetuous emergence as an Everton youngster with a broad, bullish swagger, Rooney has specialised in the spectacular and the startling, but never the unerring constancy of a straight-up goalscorer. Rooney was always different. No one had an explanation for the new comer, no one quite knew what he meant; he was without a comparison or reference point. He was not a striker like Alan Shearer or a midfielder like Paul Gascoigne, but that is as close as we got – the guile of Gazza, the shot of Shearer, an intoxicating hybrid. And it is this confusion that set Rooney out for stardom; too good and too proud to be forcibly pigeonholed. He was of a rare ilk, one where the scope of potential contradicted positional cataloguing.

The same of course was said of Michael Owen in his formative years. To Glenn Hoddle he was not a goalscorer, and by that he meant he was much more, but ultimately when the stardust settled - after the whirlwind created by that solo goal against Argentina in ’98 - Owen was exactly that. Timely and finer finisher as he is, he could be categorised on his qualities and his limitations and easily assigned a role. And in the same rationale as Beckham, he is not a great. They are too conventional and easily understood.

The greats possess an enigmatic value: individualism in a team dynamic. Their careers are often marred at some stage by an uncertainty of purpose - confine them to a system and team objectives or set them free to the teams benefit. It is the no.10 conundrum - the shirt a symbol assigned to the teams top performer – Do you get the best from a team by getting the best from a particular individual, even if it is at odds with the team system? Can a player be so good that they are more important than the team?

Of course there is the added complication that they are good enough to play anywhere. On the continent they understand these players better but that did not stop Zidane playing wide on the left for a time at Madrid and Henry struggling to find himself in Catalonia. The list could continue to include the careers of Totti, Zola, Bergkamp etc. The desire of coaches is to designate them a role but the realisation is often to the win the trophies their genius cannot be shackled.

It is something that Christiano Ronaldo has thrived upon since he was handed the freedom of Old Trafford, but there can only be one in a team. Rooney had that potential but Ferguson has another purpose for him. Ferguson has picked his main man and Rooney is` the fall guy. Ferguson has sent him back to the kiln and recast him as a centre forward with set tasks of pressurising the oppositions back four, holding the ball for support, and being constant and visible in his positioning; the selfless and tireless role at the apex of the attack.

Of course with that responsibility comes the necessity for goals as he undergoes the transformation to the conventional striker in which Capello has a stake. Saturday’s game suggests Rooney finishing is taking heed of the new demands. But his new role as the straight-jacketed striker could well suffocate the menace and spontaneity that compliments his ability; diverting his, and our, aspirations of recognising Rooney as beyond convention, a true great.

Wake me up when September ends

It’s no use. Beckham did deserve his day - if not for
the ability, then for the journey – having played for
his country for the 100th time, but all the sports
writers and all the PR men can’t put the interest back
into England again.

Even David James did his best to jolt us from our
apathy by re-enacting his worst, but the episode was
more comical than concerning. Harsh or no the calamity
James narrative is so ingrained it is beyond
redemption. But it was not enough to put a semblance
of appeal into a friendly brought a new meaning to
meaningless friendlies, nothing was and nothing could
have been. Had England struck four, or conceded five,
the game would have remained bereft of significance.
It is of course because England don’t go to the Euros
this summer and the nation is suspended in a state of
indifference, and because even at the height of
expectation friendly matches are unproductively
amiable. In rugby they are not friendlies, they are
internationals and in cricket they are tests.

I doubt I am the only one utterly bored by the ‘golden
generation’ of Stevie G, JT, Cashley C, and Lamps and
Becks. I am going to take a sabbatical from supporting
England. Until the World Cup qualification start in
September, and even that seems nauseatingly soon,
hibernation from the England jamboree is the only
answer.

bolton

Ronaldo better than Best? Messi more than Maradonna?

Best or Ronaldo? Maradonna or Messi? Moore or Ferdinand? Platini or Zidane? There is always an awkwardness about comparing players across time; the consensus is that cannot be done, or rather that it should not be done. Sentimentality or the preservation of it often prevails, as we do not allow our childhood heroes to be subjected to the riggers of reality. But what is the fun in that?

Now I never saw George Best play football and so my take on the emerging debate as to who is the greatest United winger - instigated by Ronaldo’s record breaking scoring exploits - is somewhat flawed. The only images I own of Best are an aging man, who ravaged more human livers than Hannibal Lecter, and of course a faultless football genius. In that respect – like most people born post 1980 - I have never seen him shank a left footer high and wide, nor flounder in the face of defensive traffic; In fact courtesy of the best of Best archive loop by which he is remembered, as far as I know he was only tackled five times in his career. While Best has benefited from editing of the past, Ronaldo is thriving on the sum of the present as he proves himself the most exciting and most influential player in the Premiership at the moment; a rare duality.

Of course the game is different. Football has enjoyed and endured technological, physiological and tactical revolutions since Best’s days. Tactical the game has never remained static, but over the last ten years coaches have engineered more and more ways to suffocate and suppress the opposition. In general terms, gone are the days of four or five up top, four at the back and acres of space in midfield, as twentieth century rise of the defensive midfielder continues unabated. Physically players are far fitter, faster and stronger than they once were. All this means less space, less time, and more demands - players, in general, have to be better physically, tactically and quite possibly technically as well. All in all a tougher game and a higher standard, and so the school of logic follows that footballers are better than they have ever been, and such logic hails Zidane as the king of kings.

There are, though, counter points and interjections: the surfaces on which they play are smoother, the balls are lighter, the boots are more sympathetic, there diet and medical support is superior, and they receive greater protection from referees against serial hackers. It is hard to argue that great players are not destined to be great players irrespective of the era. So when it comes to pitting the legends against the legends, rather than judging the mere masses, we can indulge in a bit of imagination.

So is it Moore or Ferdinand (Moore); Maradonna or Messi (Maradonna); Platini or Zidane (Zidane); Best or Ronaldo -?