Zonal Marking. Michael Cox

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СКАЧАТЬ with the new stadium, which wasn’t simply a football ground, but a multipurpose arena also used for concerts. Grass didn’t grow properly, which hampered Ajax’s passing football, and to many supporters it just didn’t feel like home. Louis van Gaal initially intended to leave in 1996, but stuck around one more year for personal reasons. Cruyff, meanwhile, left Barcelona in 1996 and would never coach again, while Holland were hugely disappointing at Euro 96, thrashed 4–1 in the group stage by England, and exiting after a quarter-final penalty shoot-out defeat to France. Holland’s customary tournament arguments seemed particularly serious, too, with various suggestions of a divide between black and white players.

      With Dutch football’s reputation taking a battering, then, Italy became the centre of European football. Serie A had been Europe’s strongest league throughout the 1990s, evidenced by their clubs’ dominance of the European competitions, but only now, with the sexier, more forward-thinking Ajax out of the picture, was its superiority unquestionable.

Whereas Ajax focused on youth development, Italian clubs depended on financial clout. The country’s major clubs were owned by absurdly wealthy businessmen – at least in theory, as many later found themselves financially ruined – who competed to sign the world’s greatest talents. The so-called ‘seven sisters’ of Italian football had emerged: Juventus, Milan, Inter, Roma, Lazio, Parma and Fiorentina all boasted world-class players, and all seven started each season with a genuine chance of glory. In terms of overall strength and competitiveness, there has probably never been a better league than Serie A during the mid- to late-1990s.

      Stylistically, Serie A was in a peculiar place. Italian football had always been considered defensive, with its infamous catenaccio of the 1960s still influencing tactical thought. While the attack-minded Milan boss Arrigo Sacchi had revolutionised football in the late 1980s by overhauling catenaccio and introducing the pressing game, he’d been inspired by Ajax’s Total Football, and his approach was atypical for an Italian coach.

      During this period Italian football’s major tactical themes were essentially debates between coaches who were pro-Sacchi and those who were Italian traditionalists. Sacchi promoted a proactive style of football in an inflexible 4–4–2 system, which featured no trequartista (the number 10) or libero (the sweeper). But, by nature, Italian coaches adapted their system to the opposition’s approach, most loved their trequartisti and many still insisted on a libero. Italian football during this era was not about following Sacchi’s Dutch-centric ideals, but about returning Serie A to the old Italian way.

Part Two

4

       Flexibility

      In the closing stages of Juventus’s 1996 Champions League Final victory over Ajax, there was an unusual incident that summed up so much about Juventus, and so much about Italian football.

      Ajax, in keeping with their customary approach, constantly switched play in the first half between right-winger Finidi George and left-winger Kiki Musampa. Juve’s aggressive 4–3–3 system, featuring three outright forwards in Alessandro Del Piero, Gianluca Vialli and Fabrizio Ravanelli, meant that neither of Juventus’s most impressive performers on the night, the unheralded full-back pairing of Gianluca Pessotto and Moreno Torricelli, were afforded protection against Ajax’s wingers, but both defenders were magnificent, sticking tight and refusing to let the Ajax wingers turn. Pessotto completely nullified Finidi, while Torricelli intercepted passes and launched quick counter-attacks. Louis van Gaal evidently decided that Ajax weren’t likely to get the better of Torricelli, and at half-time he removed Musampa. Ronald de Boer, who had started in central midfield, moved to the left.

Late in the game, however, Torricelli started to struggle with cramp, so for extra-time Van Gaal introduced Nordin Wooter, another speedy winger, to attack Torricelli, testing the right-back’s mobility. Juventus boss Marcello Lippi had already used his three substitutes, and therefore devised a novel solution: he switched his full-backs. Pessotto had played 90 minutes at left-back, but played extra-time at right-back, and stopped Wooter. Torricelli made the reverse switch, and was less troubled by the fatigued Finidi.

      It was, on paper, a simple solution, but it’s difficult to imagine other full-back pairings of this era doing likewise. You wouldn’t have witnessed Brazil switching Cafu and Roberto Carlos, or Barcelona moving Albert Ferrer to the left and Sergi Barjuán to the right; it would have been unthinkable and fundamentally compromised their natural game. Italian sides, though, weren’t about playing their natural game; they were about stopping opponents from playing theirs. They were – and still are – defensive-minded, reactive and tactically intelligent. Torricelli and Pessotto weren’t playing out of position, they were in another position they could play.

      For all Juventus’s superstars during the mid- to late-1990s, it’s those underrated, jack-of-all-trades, versatile squad players who best exemplify the nature of Italian football. Lippi could depend on four players who would struggle to identify their best position, something that would be considered a sign of weakness elsewhere but was very much a virtue in Serie A. Torricelli, Pessotto, Angelo Di Livio and Alessandro Birindelli could play as full-back, wing-back or wide midfielder, they could play on the left or the right and sometimes through the centre. These were the club’s leaders. ‘Every year we sold our best players, but the backbone of the squad stayed,’ remembered Lippi. ‘And when new players would arrive and wouldn’t work as hard, players like Di Livio or Torricelli would put an arm around them and say, “Here, we never stop, come on!,” and the message would come from these players who had won the league and the Champions League, and on the pitch they worked their arses off. They were exceptional examples.’

This quartet of players were workers rather than geniuses, with a single year of Serie A experience between them upon their arrival at Juventus. Torricelli was plucked straight from amateur football at a cost of just £20,000; Pessotto had played five of his six full campaigns in the lower leagues; Di Livio had played eight seasons without any Serie A experience; and Birindelli had played more in Serie C than Serie B, never mind in Serie A. ‘It’s not just the real quality players like Zinedine Zidane or Del Piero that captured everyone’s attention,’ observed Roy Keane, whose Manchester United side regularly faced Juventus in the Champions League during this era. ‘But tough, wily defenders, guys nobody’s ever heard of, who closed space down, timed their tackles to perfection, were instinctively in the right cover positions and read the game superbly.’

      That described Torricelli, Pessotto and Birindelli perfectly; they were probably defenders who could play in midfield, while Di Livio was the reverse. He was nicknamed Il soldatino by Roberto Baggio, who observed that he continually sprinted up and down the touchline like a little soldier. It didn’t matter which touchline, and while Di Livio was right-footed, he occasionally took corners with his left. Usually the mark of a technically outstanding player, the workmanlike Di Livio hardly falls into that category. In his case, it was a sign of a flexible player who had worked hard to improve his weaknesses and could adapt to any situation.

The rest of Juventus’s backbone were similarly versatile. Ciro Ferrara and Mark Iuliano were centre-backs, but when Juventus defeated Ajax again the following season, this time in the semi-finals, both were deployed in the full-back positions and performed excellently, while Alessio Tacchinardi, usually a holding midfielder, filled in at centre-back. Meanwhile, Antonio Conte was the epitome of the Italian midfielder: a dependable general capable of performing equally well in the centre or out wide. These players could seemingly be deployed anywhere within the defensive section of the side, which allowed their manager, Lippi, to become Europe’s most revered tactician, changing formations regularly, between games and within games. ‘If you have smart players who understand tactics and are comfortable in big systems, then making frequent changes can be a big plus,’ Lippi believed. So did his compatriots.

      Lippi was the most celebrated graduate from Coverciano, the Italian СКАЧАТЬ