Land of Giants
Yesterday’s Premier League title tilt looked less like the beautiful game and more like the land of giants. By my very unofficial count, there were at least eight players who at some point in their career had spent time as a centre-half, and all were present on the pitch at once. Add to that the stature of many others easily eclipsing the six foot two mark, and we were presented with a spectacle of towering frames and brute force.
Enter the Dead Ball Era
What we are watching, I fear, is football sliding into its own Dead Ball Era, where size, set pieces, and risk-avoidance trump artistry.
To steal from the ice hockey world of the early 1990s (I am Canadian after all), that sport went through an era of clutching, grabbing, and generally slowing the play down to a standstill, like a Danish passback in the European Cup. This time became known as The Dead Puck Era. And now our Guardiola-trained mentee at Arsenal, and his aforementioned Godfather who still resides on the blue half of Manchester, are guiding football into something eerily similar.
Proof on the Pitch
Take Newcastle for example. The travelling Toon Army were wowed by the sight of their six foot five German striker pressing alone, up to just the other side of his own half for most of the game, while Bournemouth, The Cherries, hardly frightening in name but effective in shape, tried to break down a well-drilled machine. Three clean sheets from Eddie Howe’s men on their road travels, three tactical draws, and three vital points. Pragmatic to the core.
Elsewhere, “Super Sunday” brought us four goals and three draws, capped with a similarly stale 1–1 where two errors in Sunderland were the only source of drama. The tension, we were told, was incredible. Actually, it wasn’t.
Even my beloved Liverpool’s scrape the week prior against Burnley told the same story: huff and puff, twenty-seven shots, a last-minute penalty winner, and pundits insisting Burnley deserved more. Statistically, they could have played 100 matches and never scored. Brave graft, maybe. Beautiful? Hardly.
Article Anfield Index. https://www.thisisanfield.com/2025/09/micah-richards-makes-baffling-claim-on-liverpool-win-and-roy-keane-disagrees/
The New Model
This is the model now. Enormous central defenders played as fullbacks. Solid, imposing midfielders to screen and strangle. Pragmatism having a field day as long throws and set pieces make their return. A throwback to a bygone English game, except the players are bigger, faster, more powerful, and still technical. The cracks are harder and harder to find.
Game changers who do not fit the weight category are considered luxuries, tolerated only if they can sprint. Speed on the wings is the concession, and when the chips are down maybe rolling the dice to sneak a playmaker inside, as Arteta did in the second half against City.
Guardiola’s Shift
And Guardiola? Ever the innovator, ever focused on results, he now parks the bus with centre-halves wherever he can fit them. This version of City is a far cry from his 2011 Barcelona team, which revolutionized modern football with intelligence and swagger.
Reduce the drama. Reduce the risk.
The supporters want three points, or at least one.
They will never leave.
Maybe that is right. Managers are not paid to fill the stands. Yet I still believe they should understand their role in the club and their part in the community’s identity. The counterargument is simple: the job is to win football matches, not fill seats.
Playing Not to Lose
But what do we make of not wanting to lose? Of playing for a draw? Of capitalizing only on the odd moment or mistake?
Every weekend, more and more matches play out in this way, dreary affairs bereft of artistry. Coaches beam as set-piece specialists choreograph corners like military drills. Every minute measured, every movement tracked. The joy etched on the set-piece coach and analysts’ faces: look at me, I’m important.
Where Are the Artists?
But the players? The supporters? I am not sure they are as thrilled. Protagonists are being pushed aside, literally and figuratively, as the chance of mistakes dwindles. Would the artists of days gone by even be permitted in today’s so-called best league in the world?
Clutching and grabbing on dead balls. Diving at the slightest touch. Giants wherever possible and occupying as many positions as possible.
Fighting for the Soul
The Dead Ball Era is here. And from where I sit, it may be time to look elsewhere for football that connects with supporters and the joy of the game.
If you like results, then enjoy. But just know I will be waiting for you behind the parked bus, on a field with players ready to fight for the soul of the game.
The beautiful game.
Thanks for reading as always,
Will
Live to play.
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Each week I write to support fans of the beautiful game to see beyond simply tactics and into the whole human experience that the game evokes. This is The Art of Football.
Past articles you might like:
The Examined Game: Bielsa In Bilbao
Socrates: The Corinthians Democracy
He Told Me to F##k Off… So I Gave Him the Captain’s Armband
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One particular depressing development is the 'kick for touch' from the kick-off. Seriously, top clubs are taking lessons from Rugby??? Grim.
At least Slot's Liverpool are bucking the trend by recruiting small attacking fullbacks & an actual playmaker as part of their Plan A. I just worry they bought Wirtz at the wrong time/era & he'll be smothered by these lanky streaks of piss who pass as footballers these days.
Let's just say that if Dembelé is the "best player in the world", then I don't want to live in that world.