Mercy, Beaucoup: Reaction To England v France

When the books of history are pulled from the shelf, dusted off and pawed over, the conclusion will be drawn that 2010 was not a year of fine vintage for either the English or French national sides. After eleven months of scandal and skeletons, not to mention a pair of World Cup campaigns so utterly and identically embarrassing that they almost deserved each other, the two sides met at a surprisingly robustly-turfed Wembley with their eyes determinedly fixed to the future.

All the pre-match amble surrounded the inclusion in the England squad (and, as it turned out, starting XI) of Andy Carroll, the Newcastle United good-time guy and occasional striker with a pony tail to make Carmela Soprano weak at the knees. Alongside fellow débutante Jordan Henderson was to be found a distinctly gloopy mix of familiar starters (Ferdinand, Gerrard, Barry) and bit-parters (Ben Foster, Joleon Lescott), while the visitors had simply started again from scratch, banishing the collapsed stars so bereft of spark and gumption (not to mention discipline) this summer, replacing them with eager, white hot novae like Samir Nasri and Yann M’Vila. On a night when 39 year-old Jari Litmanen found himself on the score sheet for Finland, it was encouraging to see a side embracing the new, and successfully too if their opening Euro 2012 qualifiers are anything to go by.

The first real action of the evening, however, was to be found on the touchline during the pre-game meet-n-greet. While French boss Laurent Blanc, looking not unlike a young Fabio Capello, stood classily bespectacled and calmly overcoated, the Italian himself, clearly feeling in uncharacteristically fruity mood, set about donning an England baseball cap. Not quite the dapper, elderly Euro-gent look we've become accustomed too. Perhaps he was hitting the tiles with Carroll afterwards.

Once the match got underway, it didn’t take long for the usual pattern to emerge. For the opening few minutes, England came out of the blocks at pace, getting in the visitor’s faces and trying to stop them settling into any kind of rhythm. The problem with playing this way, however, is that it can’t last for long against a team schooled in the fine art of ball-retention – certainly not for ninety minutes and, in this game’s case, barely for ten. France, instead of rushing, simply manoeuvred the ball with patience and care, shuffling players between the lines and causing the hosts to chase about like participants in a high class game of “piggy in the middle”. Before long, Karim Benzema and Florent Malouda orchestrated a deft one-two, resulting in the former driving the ball inside Foster’s near post. It was a fine strike, but also another blow for the Birmingham man’s confidence, so little of which he’s displayed on any level higher than the midsection of the Premier League table.

Five minutes after the opening goal a string of French passes lasting ninety seconds or more broke down and the ball dropped to the otherwise immensely impressive Gerrard, who immediately tried the 'Hollywood' sweep over the top towards Theo Walcott. Walcott, if you weren't aware, is quite quick. As a human pressure relief valve he's a dream come true; as a tool of balance and build-up, he might as well be wearing stilts. Needless to say, the ball was surrendered no sooner than it was won, the whole sorry episode summing up the difference between the two teams, both in terms of ability and mentality. Hope and thunder versus poise and control. Even the usually myopic Andy Townsend, summarising for ITV, saw it for what it was: “Here comes the forty-yarder”, he dead-panned, a voice weighed down with heavy-hearted resignation.

As with most international friendlies, half-time saw substitutions abound, with Micah Richards, Ashley Young and Adam Johnson introduced and the formation tweaked to a 4-5-1 in a bid to fend off France’s midfield dominance. But it was to no avail, and before the hour the visitors had doubled their lead with a classy, sweeping move finished off by the frankly excellent Mathieu Valbuena.

As the end approached and Gerrard trudged off with a knock and further domestic misery to look forward too, the Chap In The Cap brought on fan’s favourite Peter Crouch who, with his very first touch, converted a corner with a beautifully placed side-foot volley. Suddenly, with five minutes to go, England stirred and the game became frantic and open, as the hosts caught scent of the unlikeliest of equalisers. Several opportunities were so nearly brought to life, only to be choked at birth by a combination of inaccurate crossing and mislaid composure. The blunt truth of the matter is that anything other than a home defeat would have been a cover-up of epic proportions. In the end, class told. Same as it ever was.

So what conclusions can be gleamed from last night’s antics? On the positive side, Carroll looked like a natural, playing without fear and leading the line with determination and no little skill. You’d ideally like to see him closer to goal, but we can worry about that later – for now, he looked the part. Gerrard once again tried to be everything to everyone, and whilst such enthusiasm is always gratefully received, he still needs to be better directed, to have his energy and restlessness channelled into a system befitting of his undoubted qualities. For his own part, a little positional discipline wouldn’t go astray, but overall he led like the international leader that he perhaps should be. As far as negatives go, there are a million match reports I could plagiarise – Barry is no more an international holding player than you or I, while the dearth of quality depth, particularly in goal and at the back, remains a real concern.

But what the match really highlighted is a deeper-rooted malaise in the technical progression of the English game. As a one-off performance it can of course be forgiven, such were the number of injuries suffered by the hosts, coupled with a welcome desire to blood some of our younger guns. And yet as a neat summation of where England is as a footballing force, it was, at times, brutally accurate.  

~ Matt