La Pelota: Antifútbol

What I do not intend on doing is going into depth on previous seasons or games or trainings, but I do want to speak a about that first season with my Classic team, the u16 boys specifically, because that season proved crucial in my development as a coach, a student, and the core principles that make up the identity of my teams.

At the start of the season I quickly noticed that there wasn’t much to this group. They lacked skill, talent and conception. There was no desire or grit. It seemed as if they had only been playing for a few years. I had no doubt that this was either a test from Eduardo to see how I do with a team in utter disarray, or simply a burden trickled down from one rejecting coach to the next, before ultimately reaching me. Regardless of how things came to be, I knew that work needed to be done.

I had one true defender, a center-half, and turned a midfielder into another; four fullbacks and one winger; two strikers, four more midfielders, two goalkeepers, and the remaining two were needing identity.

At just my second session we were to scrimmage against none other than Eduardo’s u17s, defending State Cup champions—a cruel mismatch on his part. We played a 5–3–2, an incredibly defensive line-up, with my true defender, Derek, as the libero, accompanied by Guerra and Winstead, my midfielder-turned-defender and one highly aggressive fullback, respectively. We played with wingbacks comprising of one defensive-minded fullback and one attack-minded winger as our pair on the flanks, a compact holding midfield, and Holiday, our striker, our quickest and most agile, up top alongside Boggess, our other striker, not as quick nor agile, but a decent finisher.

It ended 5–0 after only thirteen minutes. A humiliating disaster. My boys walked off silently with their heads down while Eduardo’s team smiled and laughed and shared high-fives.

That night I turned to Eddie, my Assistant Coach, and said, “El Antifútbol.”

When the English first thought of the Beautiful Game, its purpose, and how they envisioned it being played, I am sure that we were the complete opposite of it. That night perfectly depicted the duality of football. While they were structured and elegant with their movement, we were unorganized and frantic. While they were synchronized and could nearly play with their eyes closed, we ran into each other and consistently got in each other’s way. Our back line was a mess, our three center-halves were positionally confused and totally lost, our wingbacks couldn’t cope with so much responsibility, the ball never reached Holiday for him to have an impact, let alone Boggess, and our midfield was stretched out and pulled apart. We never strung three passes together. The majority of the time we even touched the ball was to clear it away from our goal. I knew that work was required, but this was beyond that. No one had a clue what they were doing.

Ahead of our first game of the season, I decided to abandon the 5–3–2 after a few rough training sessions and switched to a classic flat 4–4–2, switching from man-marking to zonal marking, giving the center-halves more space and having more help in wide areas by playing with fullbacks and wingers down both flanks. Like Arrigo Sacchi’s Milan, we played with a high defensive line and looked to recover the ball in the opposition’s half rather than sit back and counterattack. Trying not to depend on passing and buildup, but instead on getting the ball into the box and hoping. A game of high risk–high reward as we miraculously scraped out on top 3–2. Holiday slotted home a last-minute winner following a defensive error.

The switch proved to be an improvement, but still, I was far from happy. I wanted us to play better, to have the ball more and some control over our outcomes. We continued with the 4–4–2 while training passing and build up, because despite our increased success with the high press, we got killed with balls in behind and often took goal kicks, facing similar high pressing and struggling to get out due to ineffectiveness with our long ball (improper impact when striking) and our poor short game. This rendered us sitting ducks. The same way we scored was the same way we conceded. All that was needed to beat us was keeping the ball in our half, and as the season progressed, we were beat time and time again.

Until next time,

For love and glory.