I’ve watched Diego Maradona’s final World Cup match (a 2-1 victory over Nigeria played in Boston) at least ten times. Nigeria pushed Argentina back early with plundering counter-attacks, one of which led to the match’s first goal—a sumptuous chip that had more than a whiff of offside to it. Maradona was imperious that day though, Napoleonically strutting around the confetti-flaked pitch, drawing fouls, and making key passes for both of Argentina’s goals—free kicks finished by Claudio Canigga.
The first one was just outside the area. Maradona runs up as if to take the shot himself, only to back-heel the ball into the path of Gabriel Batistuta, who drives it low and to the right of the goalkeeper, who spills it at Canigga’s eager feet. The second was on the left-wing channel in Nigeria’s half, seemingly a safe distance from goal. Maradona plays an early pass to an unmarked Canigga who cuts into the box diagonally from the left, opens his body, and curls the ball in the upper right hand corner of the net. Less than a half hour had gone by but the game was effectively over. Argentina were on cruise control for most of the remainder of the match.
Make no mistake, it was Maradona’s savvy on both occasions that in an immediate sense undid Nigeria that afternoon. But I go back to the grainy VHS recording not to pay homage to Maradona but to remember the first time I saw Fernando Redondo play football. I was only 13 at the time but I intuitively understood that it was Argentina’s number five, and not Maradona, who undid Nigeria in a more general sense, by blunting a match which in its initial stages was fevered and disjointed—traits that favored the counter-attacking Nigerian side. The beautiful chaos spun by Maradona, Canigga, and Batistuta in the offensive third was complemented by the centralizing order rendered by Redondo’s tackling, distribution, and ball retention. In tactile terms, Redondo polished the game’s jagged edges.
Nigeria couldn’t get near Redondo that afternoon. His first touch (a skill ever so soccer-specific) moved the ball into nooks and vistas on the field where his opponents couldn’t find it—something antiseptically referred to by coaches as “touch direction.” When Redondo possessed the ball it became a game of hide and seek. He had an inimitable ability to hold off defenders and simultaneously run towards goal in a way that the term “riding challenges” doesn’t really describe. At any rate, Nigeria were spent and befuddled.
For those unlucky not to witness Redondo play, allow me a homily: His presence on the pitch can be best characterized by an unlikely adjective for any physical activity—glib. He appeared to play with indifference but he always had the ball, which he received like a stray pill of mercury returning to its base. He didn’t run so much as he sauntered and ghosted past defenders the way you might expect a rakish dandy to push past his scrubbier competition in a cocktail lounge. Elegant to the point of haughty, after being chopped down by defenders he would rise as if he had been knighted. Alex Ferguson (a real knight) bemusedly asked if Redondo had magnets in his boots after the Argentine flummoxed Manchester United’s midfield at Old Trafford.
A handful of blog articles (now a small chorus) exist which wax romantic about how unsung Redondo’s genius is in an age of football that places a premium on pace and power. The speedy smack-down that is the Premier League has put the “Prince” in tintype: the perfect midfielder for yesteryear. Not, “box-to-box” enough, etc. In truth, the supposed hegemony of the Premier League is and has been over-hyped and somewhat repudiated by the successes of continental teams in the past few years. One very astute Guardian football columnist recently argued that it is the Steven Gerrards of this world who are out of step with the times, while precision-based midfielders rule the roost. The rise and rise of Silva and the auspicious start to Mata’s career at Chelsea has made the Spanish number ten an object of recent fetishism. Every world-class team has to have one.
Phil Ball’s recent article about the Spanish interpretation of the creative “false nine” (media punta) is a lively account of what makes players like Silva, Mata, Cesc Fabregas, and even the Mikel Arteta so deadly in today’s game. Namely, they provoke panic and disorder in opposing teams because they artfully dart between the lines of defense and midfield, confusing defenders who have to step out of position to pursue their movement, leaving space behind their vacated areas for attackers to exploit. Theirs is a postmodern art of deconstruction and liminality.
Redondo was no media punta though. His was a modernist art of sleek order and functionality. He wasn’t a Makelele-type holding midfielder, either. In spite of his lithe elegance he was warhorse not a show pony. And yet, he didn’t simply destroy opposition attacks but rather coaxed them to irrelevance by channelling them into less dangerous areas because of his positioning.
Spain, spoilt for choice, also has their Redondo in Javi Martinez, whose performances for the U-21s in the European Championship this summer provided me more than a morsel of nostalgia. Despite starting with a chorus line of media puntas—Thiago Alcantara, Mata, Ander Herrara, and Iker Muniain—Martinez, to my eye, set the pace for the eventual champions. Spain was able to play with so many forward-minded midfielders precisely because Martinez could ably marshal the space behind them, in some cases dropping between the centerbacks to cover the full-backs’ forays up field as Busquets does for Barcelona. Martinez is more mobile than Busquets though, and like Redondo he is more comfortable carrying the ball forward. (Busquets seems slightly embarrassed whenever he dribbles for more than a touch or two.) Martinez is more laterally mobile than Busquests as well. He often bullies opposing players into moving sideways and backwards by bird-dogging them aggressively over the length and breadth of the pitch, which he did to devastating effect in the Euro final with Switzerland’s Xherdan Shaqiri, and more recently with the excellent Javier Pastore in Bilbao’s recent Europa League victory over Paris St. Germain. Yet, when order is restored and possession won, he bounds forward breezily and passes smartly. If Redondo was pure tango, Martinez is a waltz.
Indeed, while there are more than a few differences between Redondo and the still slightly green Martinez, there is something uncannily similar about the manner in which they impose themselves on a match: almost managerial or authoritarian without being brutal or grotesque in the way of a Nigel De Jong or Roy Keane. There is a kind of death-and-taxes inevitability about their centrality in the proceedings of any given match. By the final game of the Euros every time the hulking Martinez emerged from a midfield scrum with the ball I thought to myself: Of course. Martinez. Who else!? While Spain’s attacking midfielders played with postmodern panache, Martinez was a one-man dictatorial modernizer in the middle of the park, restoring, or better, demanding coherence. He was their Franco. Their Ataturk. Their generalissimo.
Finally, consider this a letter of recommendation of sorts. While I hasten to say that I hope he stays in Bilbao for at least a couple of seasons, not least of all because Marcelo Bielsa’s recent arrival has already yielded some eccentric and sometimes great performances from the Basques, Martinez is the kind of signing Arsenal must make to restore consistency and spatial logic when they don’t have the ball. The rush to sign Arteta to replace Fabregas wasn’t so much impulsive as it was second-order in terms of their requirements, the first of which ought to have been finding a replacement for Patrick Vieira, who by my count, has been gone for half a decade. While teams like Chelsea and Manchester City can afford to look for the “Perfect 10,” Arsenal must first find their “Perfect 5.”
Sam Fayyaz is a PhD student at UMASS, Amherst where he studies political science when he’s not anoraking about soccer.
Read More: Fernando Redondo, Javi Martinez
by Sam Fayyaz · November 22, 2011
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Excellent article.
I was always a big fan of Redondo and that too based on sporadic Real Madrid matches i saw from India, mostly in CL. I was really sad that he was not picked because of his hair in 2002 (how idiotic a manager can be) and then his career was blighted by injuries. One of my favorite players.
Brilliant post! Loved the tango/waltz analogy. I do actually consider Redondo’s passing to be similar to Makelele, at least in a metronomic sense, but Redondo’s positioning just may have been a shade better than the Frenchman’s.
As a fellow Argie, nothing gave me more joy growing up than seeing Redondo strutting around midfield. Apparently he is also very educated, which explains many of his decisions on and off the field.
@5alinas on and off the field decisions, that is.
Does it kill my credibility as a Barça fan to say that I did not, could not, hate Madrid while Redondo was there?
One could argue that we are starting to see the same style of play from Lucas at Liverpool. Not quite the finished product (what part of Liverpool is) but getting there.
Nice but……you’ve got to listen to this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YR12Z8f1Dh8 ……. Tell me when you’ve stopped
I remember that match well. Argentina looked terrific in their first two games and Redondo was just starting to emerge as one of the world’s top midfielders. The team’s complete collapse following Maradona’s ejection from the tournament revealed just what an effect Diego had on those around him. I’ve always been wary of midfield players who wear the number 5 shirt (commonly reserved for midfielders in South America). They have a tendency to float about and pop up unexpectedly in dangerous positions. Redondo was a class act in every sense. He refused to cut his hair for Passarella (a fan of the short-back-and-sides) and thus was not selected for Argentina’s 1998 World Cup squad. Later, while at Milan, he insisted on going “unsalaried” during a long spell dominated by an injury which ultimately caused his premature retirement.
I have one criticism: “Caniggia” is misspelled throughout the first part of this article.
@James C. Taylor Great catch on the misspelling.
More than the absence of a haircut, Redondo neither shared Passarella’s vision of the game (similar to that of Carlos Bilardo) nor his political outlook, which was rightist and genuinely authoritarian. Redondo, ever the romantic, followed the more freewheeling vision of Menotti and Bielsa.
Simon Kuper & Tim Vickery (I think) discuss the Bilardo/Menotti divide in Argentinan football in several essays.
Thanks for the tip, Sam. Simon Kuper’s always an interesting read. I just learned that Redondo indeed turned down an international call-up from Bilardo prior to Italia ’90, probably for the reasons you cited.
Alex Ferguson’s comment about magnetized boots makes no sense since footballs aren’t made of metal.
Awesome article. I remember the ’94 WC well and I still return to my slowly fading in quality VHS tapes to relive the memories that were narrated by Andres Cantor at Univision. I still shiver at how freaking ballistic he went when Maradona scored against Greece. Twas a pity that he was booted. I would have loved to have seen him and Hagi on the same pitch. Hagi was my man of the tournament. If you could write an article about the “Maradona of the Carpathians” then I would be ecstatic.
Thanks for bringing Redondo’s memory back from the vaults. He was truly as fantastic as this article. Cheers.
I can’t speak to Redondo, because I don’t know that I’ve seen him play. I agree that Javi has more tools/skills, but Busi does his one thing really well. And he’s young, may be he can learn more?
I am also amused to know that others think the Guardian is rather obsessed with being contrarian/hipster or dare I say trolls?
Great post. I’ve been watching Bilbao this season a lot mainly cause of Bielsa’s system which I am a big fan of. I have to agree that Javi Martinez is the perfect Midfield general. I watched Napoli-Man Citeh yesterday and I noticed how lazy Nigel De Jong and Yaya Toure were the so called midfield destroyers lacked what Busquets and Javi do week on and out. Football is indeed changing.
I occasionally imagine United signing Martinez to give our midfield some structure (read: to give us a midfield) and I get a brief thrill of almost erotic transgressive pleasure, before I wearily consign the idea to my mind’s archive of the unrealistic.
@lobotics I’m not sure how unrealistic United signing Martinez is actually. I think what I wrote about Arsenal can also be said of Manchester United, whose flaccid pursuit of Wesley Sneijder this summer suggests that Ferguson understood that it is the kind of midfield generaliship provided by Roy Keane, Owen Hargreaves, and a fit Darren Fletcher most missed at Old Trafford instead of a lack of creativity, which is provided ably by Rooney when he operates in the hole. Furthermore, I read on one of the rumor blogs that one of Ferguson’s key scouts is very impressed with Martinez.
@Sam Fayyaz it’s not just a question of willingness (although spending 18m on another winger was incredibly frustrating), I don’t feel like Ferguson has much money to spend. Despite Gill’s constant assurances, the Glazer debt definitely affects the transfer budget. As for Sneijder, I have no idea why so many United fans keep going on about him (and indeed, why the club actually tried/are trying to sign him) – there is no way he’d fit into the team with Rooney playing off a striker and Nani and Young drifting around that area too. He’s not a midfielder, he’s not what United need.
Having said all that, I’ll keep the little Martinez-hope burning somewhere in my heart, but not with much expectation. Though I would also like to see Bielsa get a good run with this Bilbao team without losing Martinez, Llorente, Muniain etc too soon.
Oh dear, in an article referring to Franco, invoking his role on Spanish society and football, you refer to Athletic as “Bilbao”? Unforgettable faux pas in a such an otherwise excellent piece.
Nice article. However, right now Martinez is a step below Busquets in that modern (or postmodern, if you prefer) Spanish DM role. The fact that Javi spends more time dribbling the ball than Sergio is precisely one of the reasons why he has not yet fully learned his role. It’s not that Sergio is “embarrassed” it’s that he knows he’s far more effective when he keeps the ball circulating with one touch passes to the “mediapuntas” up ahead (something that Toure never learned at Barça). Also, the idea that Busquets isn’t as good in lateral movement is a surprising statement as well, I still remember how he made Ozil and Snjieder disappear in the WC with his lateral movements.
Still, now that Bielsa has instilled a passing game at Athletic (wow, talk about a cultural revolution), I suspect Martinez will improve in the areas that Busquets excels at.
@Sam Fayyaz
Wesley is not really a midfield general though (Martinez either), he’s more of a trequartista, kind of like Rooney. And I think Rooney is better than he is, so that move never made sense to me. What United need is a player like Silva, although Javi Martinez certainly wouldn’t hurt.
I don’t understand what’s “postmodern” about Spanish football, or any football that involves looking for space to play into. This sort of football idealises all that’s aesthetically pleasing about the game . Surely, then, it’s idealistic, maybe even nostalgic – but not “postmodern”.
Unless Spain win ironically; or maybe their abysmal results in prestige friendlies are their own ironic subversion of the aesthetically pleasing football ideal – which is, of course, hollow and meaningless.
If I had to pick a “postmodern” national team I’d probably go with France. The perfectly-orchestrated victories of old adding a historical weight to the humour of their recent catastrophies; looking at Thierry Henry and co on the touchline, conspiring like comic-book villains against Domenech in 2010, one has the sense of time as disconnected moments, of the futility of history, of…
Oh, what nonsense.
Leaving behind all that, I have to disagree on the article’s conclusion. Whilst Fabregas is a better player than Arteta, the switch seems to have benefited Arsenal a lot more than a lot of people realise. Arteta brings a steadiness and decisiveness in possession that Fabregas took from the team – whilst Arteta can’t run a match like Cesc can, you can trust Arteta to shoot or cross and not dally about. Equally, he fights more. The result is a greater balance in Arsenal’s midfield, which in turn frees up the team psychologically.
If a Premier League club needs Javi Martinez, it’s Manchester United, not Arsenal.
@hai I flinched when I saw ‘his’ name, too…
@emily Yeah, so admittedly the Franco analogy was awkward and insensitive. More than that, the analogy actually doesn’t work to the extent that I argue that Redondo and Martinez use their superior positioning, timing, and ball control to create order on the pitch, rather than resort to rough or “brutal” tactics.
Again, I’m sorry if I offended with the Alan Pardew-esque (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx94jwmMxPs) analogy. My intention wasn’t to trivialize the brutality of autocrats.
Very insightful article, a joy to read.
I have also been a fan of Javi Martinez for years. His play for Athletic and Spain’s U21s has been very satisfying. I am torn between my desire to see him build the Basques into a coherent attacking team under Bielsa, and my curiosity to see him playing at the top of the game. I also think Manchester need him as much or more than Arsenal. It is a shame there aren’t two (or three) of him.
@njwv Took the words out of my mouth. I too could not muster any dislike for Real, eventhough as a Dutchman i was raised on Cruyffs dreamteam, for Madrid. That movie they made about Zidane, where they just follow him for a full match…i would have loved to seen one of those done with Redondo, what a treat that would have been
Marouane Fellaini is another good modern example of the Redondo-type.
@Sam Fayyaz it worked for me
Nice article…although every time I see the word “soccer”, a bit of me dies inside. It’s “football”! Even the Spanish say “fútbol”!!
A bit interesting that, a year out from this article, Arteta IS the “pivote” for Arsenal, and not a playmaker. And it’s often the case that he’s the most important player on the field for them.
After reading this article, I have just watched the last match of Diego Maradona on YouTube where Argentina got a 2-1 victory over Nigeria on 25 June 1994. Claudio CANIGGIA scored both 2 goals (21′ & 28′). It feels really good to see Maradona to play.
You have reminded me this game of Argentina vs. Nigeria which was played in 1994 where Argentina won the match by scoring 2-1 goals. As I am a BIG fan of Diego Maradona, so I’m now going to watch the match highlights again on YouTube. As you might already know that Diego Maradona will support his Argentina very much in this season’s fifa world cup. And, Like Maradon I will also support Argentina this time. Check out the 2014 fifa world cup fixtures.
Fernando Redondo was one of my favorite player. I loved his beautiful long hair. It looked really great to see his hair strands when he run to shot a kick and head. But I didn’t still get the point of, why he was not picked for his hair? What was wrong with his hair? Was it just refusing to cut-off his hair?
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This is a great piece. One thing: Martinez has proved to be a very capable midfielder, but I think ultimately you picked the wrong Spaniard. You correctly pointed out some differences between Redondo and Busquets, but I think in the end the traits they share are more important than what seperates them. From what I’ve seen they’re the two prime candidates for the title “most intelligent defensive midfielder ever”. Two absolute super-brains re-defining their position. Martinez is far from the stereotypical half-man-half-axe defensive midfielder, but neither does he reach Redondo’s or Busquets’ level of sheer genius.