La Pelota: Catenaccio

The night before our final tournament of the season,  I sat outside with my board and magnets pondering over how to set up the team. Tournaments are tricky. They are really short and usually consist of eight teams split into two groups of four. Because a tournament happens over a weekend, each team plays their three rivals in the group and the team that manages the most points qualifies for the final against the winner of the other group—contradictory to the traditional top-two qualifying format. A win is awarded with three points, a draw a point a piece, and a loss being zero points—standard in that sense.

With only the top team qualifying, it essentially turns each group match into a final, each team desperate for the three points, unaccepting of a draw, and horrified of a loss. A bad first match could be devastating, a draw symbolizing a foot out of the door.

In our prior two tournaments we did not manage to get out of the group stage, gathering only one point in the first and four points in the second. We finished sixth in our league and only recently started finding some rhythm. I did not want to crash out of our final tournament of the season. I wanted to give the boys something to show the progress we made that season, something for them to feel proud of, and that night before the tournament, I felt nervous, nervous that I had failed them and failed as a coach, nervous that I had failed Eduardo’s test.

What concerned me the most was our defending. That was our key. The way I saw it was, if we could limit the amount of chances given to the other teams, we’d concede less goals, therefore lowering our chances of losing. However, I did not want to play for a draw or hope for a fortuitous counterattack to win 1-0. I wanted to play attractive football and control our outcomes. That meant ditching the high line with aggressive pressing and switching to a mid block or the more defensive low block. Knowing my players, I knew we wouldn’t survive with either, at least not in the 4–3–3. We wouldn’t have the patience required of the mid block and would leak from holes left all over the pitch, while finding ourselves trapped in the low block, especially now since we played with only one striker providing an outlet. Which raised the next questions: do I play Holiday or Bogess? Or do I revert back to the 4–4–2 and play them both, sacrificing the three-man midfield?

The flat 4–4–2 would work in both the mid block and low block, but would dampen our attack. Also, I think going back to the flat 4–4–2 would have felt like a regression in our play, a setback in our development. I escaped that trap and had no intention of going back.

A 4–4–2 diamond, however, did cross my mind, with our wingers tucking in for central support, and our fullbacks having free terrain to move up and down the flanks, but that would leave our fullbacks with too much responsibility and not much coverage behind them. We still feared the gaps left behind. I did like the idea of two extremely wide players with free terrain, like two trains always in operation, moving vertically to help both attack and defense.

Then I moved one magnet down the board and everything clicked. I wrote it all down on the back of an envelope and called Eddie right away, which at the time was eleven p.m., to explained the idea. We spoke for an hour and fifteen minutes. He loved it and believed it would work, despite not having trained it, and helped me hash out all the fine details. That night I didn’t sleep due to nerves, excitement, and most of all, anticipation.

We did revert back to something. Not the 4–4–2 flat, diamond, or otherwise, but once again to the 5–3–2, the disastrous formation we used when we first scrimmaged Eduardo’s team, the formation I thought we’d never try again. Only now I believed the boys were ready for it. With improvements made on technical and physical aspects, along with our overall chemistry with each other and our positions, I had complete faith in the system.

Plus, it allowed me to keep everything I wanted and everything the team needed. A strong, sturdy defense consisting of two center-halves, a libero, and two wide freight trains as our wingbacks, a three-man midfield, and Boggess and Holiday up top with Boggess occasionally dropping into the midfield as a 10, creating either a diamond or a box, and a suffocating numerical advantage in the center of the pitch, enabling overloads and consistently liberating one of the trains or a central defender. Door-bolt defending with an elegant, fluid attack. Antifútbol and the philosophy. Catenaccio y La Pelota. Together in perfect harmony.

We played our best football that weekend. Even though we didn’t win the whole thing, we did achieve what we seeked the entire season. The boys got the sending off they deserved, with the feeling of accomplishment amongst themselves and their peers through recognition of spectators, rivals and even referees. I was finally able to make sense of everything given to me, growing tremendously as a coach, and ultimately passing Eduardo’s test a few days later in a final scrimmage against his State Cup side where we got the better of them 3–2.

I tried so much to avoid a style of play instead of harnessing it. It wasn’t until I embraced Antifútbol did I find success. And not only were we successful, but we engineered a blueprint that would be used for all our teams moving forward.

Until next time,

For love and glory.