Declan Rice - the machine, the myth, the aura gambler
PINNACLE OF HIS JOURNEY: Declan Rice of Arsenal arrives at Budapest Ferenc Liszt International Airport prior to the UEFA Champions League Final (Photo by Tullio Puglia - UEFA/UEFA via Getty Images)
Last year’s very funny film nominated three footballing enemies of Ireland — Thierry Henry, Salvatore Schillaci and Declan Rice. I can’t have been the only one to find that a bit harsh on the late Schillaci, who only scored against us.
But Henry and Rice made their beds. Mick McCarthy once recounted his reaction as Ireland manager when Rice finally rang him to say he’d chosen England, despite three senior caps in green. “I was very abrupt. There was no, ‘Oh, thanks for letting me know, good luck with that and I hope it goes well for you’. It was the opposite of that.”
So just as Rice has risen among England’s most cherished darlings, his career has often been judged churlishly from this neck of the woods. A ‘hope it stays fine for you’ kinda vibe.
It’s painfully obvious how right he was to make the call he did. It’s horribly evident how valuable he might have been in places like Prague, say, if you were 2-0 up and on the verge of a World Cup. But is he quite as good as the English make out? And can’t his main character energy, as the kids say, be a bit much?
But now that Declan Rice has become the eighth Republic of Ireland international to win a Premier League medal, and now that he stands today with a live shout of becoming the first to thrust himself into the Ballon d’Or picture, isn’t it time to be mature about things? Isn’t it time for an honest appraisal of Rice, the midfielder, the machine, the myth, the man? Green-eyed jealousy put aside.
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For starters, might we accept that Ricey’s non-celebration celebration, after scoring against Ireland at the Aviva, was the act of a decent, civilised man? Who just likes to keep as many on side as he can. And isn’t people pleasing the most Irish of traits?
No? Too soon?
It’s not only in Ireland that Rice is accused of being performative. It’s the most common jibe thrown at him by fans of other English clubs. With the implication that he is being fake. Certainly, he is highly visible in a way many distrust. He’s a meme machine. A clip-ready, TikTok titan. Heart worn exquisitely on sleeve. Various badges passionately kissed. At it again last weekend processing West Ham’s relegation. Delivering anguish or inspiration on cue, for the right camera, hair teased for triumph or tragedy. Hyper-aware everyone’s watching and judging. “Wear gloves in a match? People would hammer me.”
His three words defined Arsenal’s title run-in, delivered defiantly in the Etihad centre-circle in the seconds after a gut-wrenching defeat that suggested their race may have been run.
“It’s not done.”
Now it’s a motto, a t-shirt, a song. “He said it’s not done, he said it’s not done. Declan Rice, he said it’s not done.” These are now words to live by.
In a relaxed interview with David Frimpon on Arsenal’s socials this week, Rice revisited that moment and tackled the ‘performative’ accusation. “Oh he’s saying it for the cameras. There’s 100 cameras. How did I know I was being recorded?” And in the next breath he let slip the central contradiction that the modern twentysomething accepts you’re probably always being recorded. “You’ve got to aura gamble and it paid off.”
Some of us find aura gambling as baffling as crypto, but the modern footballer almost has to narrate his performance in real time, like David Attenborough in the wild. Every gesture is parsed. Bruno Fernandes, for instance, doesn’t seem to get this.
Talking about the signing of Rice, on the this week, Arteta said, “we are constantly sending messages, whether we want to or not. To the people in the organisation, to the supporters, to our opponents. And that was a strong message.”
Rice instinctively sends the messages people want to hear. At the time Arteta paid €110m for him he made a point of praising Rice’s body language. He’s fluent in it. Maybe it’s not all that different to Roy Keane’s means of showing you care by ‘smashing into somebody’. Or John Terry’s ‘leader legend’ habit of emerging after a game topless only for his captain’s armband.
Of course it also serves the bottom line. His barnet is now a L’Oréal ambassador. Arsenal commercial guru Maria Hasler explained how this stuff happens to 4castmg.co.uk. “When I joined Arsenal, Declan and his team had a clear ambition to break into the fashion and culture space. This didn’t happen over night; it was a strategic build. We gave him cultural currency via our retail collaborations. This partnership with L’Oréal truly is the pinnacle of that journey.”
It’s a world and a journey many of us don’t understand, and it's probably a journey that wouldn’t have taken the same course had he stayed in green. He may not have accumulated as much cultural, or any other, currency. But none of it has stopped Rice reaching the pinnacle of his other journey today.
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Is he overrated? It probably depends on what you think he’s supposed to be. As much as he has split national identities, Rice the footballer has multiple personas. An all-action midfield general. The next Beckham. A box to box powerhouse. Or just ‘a six’.
A Gerrard comparison lurks. England forever craves a midfield superhero. A Bryan Robson stirred with Bobby Charlton, with a dash of Roy of the Rovers. Winning tackles, scoring goals, driving the team on, oozing inspiration and sweating blood. It’s what they wanted from Jude Bellingham, who also seems a bit confused about what he is. Those two free-kicks v Madrid drove England wild. Now they constantly want Ricey ‘unleashed’.
Rice has some questions to answer on all his identities. If he’s an elite midfield pivot, why does he need Martin Zubimendi beside him, and previously Thomas Partey? Is it just to hold his coat? Or to handle the build-up work he can’t quite manage? If he’s an unstoppable attacking force of nature, why doesn’t he score a few more goals?
The definitive judge of midfield players, John Giles, was happy to brand Rice the best all-round midfielder in the Premier League when he was still at West Ham and heaped praise on “a beautifully balanced lad for his size”. But Gilesy also conceded that Rice can’t quite control a game and shows no signs of ever being able to, like John’s select band of favourites. “He’s not a Modric or one of the great midfield players that control the midfield.”
The other preoccupation of the modern footballer is stats. A profile of Rice claimed Arsenal’s set-piece maven Nicolas Jover — another lad who knows where the cameras are — had difficulty selling the idea of taking corners until Rice realised “this was an avenue to provide assists in an increasingly statistics-obsessed sport”.
What do Rice’s other stats say about the type of player he is? Among the Premier League’s central midfielders, he essentially ranks high for everything to do with running — distance covered, sprint distance, high-speed distance, accelerations, decelerations.
For Arsenal, at last count in April, he led the way in assists, passes, carries, distance carried, interceptions, possession won. He was second for tackles and blocks.
His physical output is elite. His sprint and high-speed metrics are unusually high for a central player. He covers wide defensive spaces, recovers during transitions, supports the press, arrives in attack, and screens the defence.
Few midfielders top so many categories simultaneously. Rice does enough creating, destroying and carrying to be structurally indispensable to Mikel Arteta, without being individually spectacular in any category.
But he can’t quite dictate rhythm like Rodri. The gurus would rank his 'progressive passing' a bit short of maestros like the one he'll face tonight, Vitinha. They'd mark him just short of the elite on 'final third entries' and 'line-breaking', though that could partly be Arteta making him knock it sideways. In previous seasons when Arsenal were robustly tested at the business end of European competition, receiving the ball under pressure was a shortcoming.
But he eats up space like a machine, wins duels consistently. He sustains intensity and rarely disappears from matches.
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“He said that you have goalscoring capabilities and capabilities to make assists and make things happen,” Rice recalled, of his early discussions with Arteta, in a profile for the . “But obviously he knew my biggest strength was probably playing No 6.”
And where did Rice mostly end up during Arsenal’s run-in? Back at six. Holding the fort. Preventing the roof caving in. When things became most fraught, Arsenal leaned into Rice’s most obvious strengths. He became less about dramatic attacking surges and more about covering space. It wasn’t TikTok football, or Roy of the Rovers football. But the hard labour of sprinting, recovering, sustaining pressure and winning tackles and headers.
Accordingly, by making Rice the load-bearing pillar, Arsenal could afford more creativity around him. The tiring Zubimendi was sacrificed and Martin Odegaard could add a little oil to the machine. Myles Lewis-Skelly, who can receive the ball in an occupied phone box, was unleashed.
Arsenal became a bit looser and freer with the ball but at the same time a bit tighter and calmer without it, more difficult to transition against. Rice might not have controlled matches but he stabilised them, dominating physically and making a nervous team feel just about secure enough to function.
Maybe Arsenal eventually succeeded by simplifying this complicated character. Arteta removed uncertainty about his role. And you could make the case that Rice’s emotional visibility was part of his value. Arteta has called him Arsenal’s lighthouse and they sure needed to be guided home.
For a team wilting on its long journey, Rice’s enthusiasm for facing the cameras, for continually articulating his unbelievable belief, for continually taking responsibility — even if self-consciously — all arguably played a part.
Arsenal got it done.
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We cannot forget that when Ryan Tubridy had Arsene Wenger on the Late Late a few years ago, of the many interesting gambits available to him, he chose to ask him about Henry's handball. So Ricey will know this enemy of the state stuff can run and run.
But the seventh Ireland international to win a Premier League medal is not a churlish man. Speaking to John Fallon over at Brentford’s training round last week, Caoimhín Kelleher proved an example to us all.
“I was in quite a few camps with Declan and know him quite well. He was then a centre-back ahead of me and you could see at an early age how good he was.
“It’s nice to see him get his rewards. He made his decision, it’s gone well for him and I wish him all the best.”
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