Larry Ryan: The perfect imperfection of the race for fourth
FADED AMBITION: Antonio Conte, Manager of Tottenham Hotspur, looks on during the Premier League match between Burnley and Tottenham Hotspur at Turf Moor (Photo by Alex Livesey/Getty Images)
Of course it’s nice to see people excited again by ‘the title race’. It’s wonderful to welcome back into our lives all those Liverpool fans you hadn’t heard from in a good while on WhatsApp.
And isn’t it lovely to see the world’s sportswriting cognoscenti entranced again by a six-nil battering? The kind of procession they might have decried, a few short weeks ago, as joyless, clinical and boring.
It’s just a pity the rest of us were told, so often this season, that the whole thing is a meaningless, corrupt sham. Now that we will be expected to have tears of admiration ready if it falls the right way in the end.
We’ll have to do our best to muster suitable appreciation if the time comes. But for now, it’s still all about the true magic of the race for the fourth-place trophy, the race we never abandoned.
It remains the glaring unticked box in the Premier League’s marketing masterplan: a physical trophy for this most coveted of prizes.
Around the time they were founding Rugby Country, at the start of this century, somebody had the brainwave of minting an actual Triple Crown, in case you didn’t win the whole thing, to go with the collection of cups and quaichs and shields ‘at stake’.
Yet there is still nothing for the winner of the greatest race of all — a golden bust of this magnificent contest’s patron, Arsene Wenger, would be the least they could put up.
For now, there’s nothing to lift but it lifts us all. And sinks us. With its swings and roundabouts. With its guaranteed melodrama and hysteria.
It’s football as it should be, with terms and conditions. The value of your emotional investment will rise and fall. Football played by teams who can be very good and very bad, often in the same half.
Still in the lead, despite everything, are Manchester United. And Bruno Fernandes. We don’t talk about Bruno enough.
If Roy Keane was once the symbol of Manchester United when they were good, Bruno is now the symbol of all that makes Manchester United good and bad at the same time.
There are shades of the old United too in the way Bruno is a good bet for a soft pen and often wears an invisibility cloak while leaving a foot in.
But Roy Keane’s punditry is as good a way as any to monitor Bruno’s influence on the modern United. One minute praise for ‘brilliant brilliant quality’, the next deploring how he ‘spent half the night crying’.
Much like Denis Irwin was the most sung unsung hero in football, Bruno is your man for the characteristically uncharacteristic off-night. Or yet another rare misplaced pass.
Yet crucially, there seems a fundamental lack of shame in his makeup that makes Bruno, no matter how the night is going for him, a good bet to produce what John Giles would call ‘a little bit of magic’. It is probably the only requirement he fulfils, on any Gilesy wishlist. Because Bruno is not necessarily your man for the bread and butter stuff, or taking anything on its merits.
But then Bruno’s imperfect magic might just be enough for United in this battle. Because this race is not about perfection.
That has been one of the chief concerns around Mikel Arteta, that he is a man too focused on perfection. A condition that has seen him fill the Arsenal naughty step with men who don’t meet his standards. And a certain control freakery on the touchline that makes his team, at times, look mechanical.
It doesn’t help that several of his players are the opposite of Bruno. They find new and imaginative ways of picking up yellow and red cards, can never be awarded a penalty, and are capable of looking quite industrious without threatening involvement in the scoring of a goal.
In a recent Denis Walsh interview for the , Jim Gavin reflected on his subdued persona on the line: “If I’m roaring and shouting at a player to get into position on the field, that’s a reflection of how poorly they’ve been trained.”
By that measure, Arsenal’s players mustn’t be trained at all, with Arteta constantly involved as a vocal conductor.
But perhaps Thursday’s dramatic win over Wolves will prove some kind of cathartic breakthrough. By the end, Arteta had gone full Wenger, throwing every attacker on, letting them work it out for themselves, and letting it all go himself when they pulled it off at the death.
It’s a mark of Arsenal’s faded grandeur that they are now embroiled in spats with the likes of Wolves over the appropriate way of celebrating this kind of win. But this race is not about grandeur.
That might be a mistake the likes of Wolves and West Ham are making, that deep down they fear they don’t belong in this ragged contest. Moyesy admitting he was ‘thrilled’ with a point at home to Newcastle wasn’t a good sign for the Hammers. Ditto Wolves wishing every second away on Thursday instead of trying to score the second goal that was there for them.
You can certainly fall over the line to win the fourth place race, but you should at least try to run towards it.
Which brings us to the traditional stumbles of Tottenham. Or the history of the Tottenham, as Giorgio Chiellini famously put it.
Perhaps nothing sums up this race, or Tottenham, better than Antonio Conte’s press conference performances this week. Buoyed by the heist of the Etihad, on Tuesday he was telling Harry Kane he could fulfil his ambitions at Spurs. After Wednesday night’s Burnley defeat he was essentially wondering what an ambitious man like himself was doing there.
Which suggests Antonio hadn’t closely studied the recent history of anyone involved in the fourth place battle, not least Tottenham. Because this race isn’t really about ambition.
