Last Sunday, Fabian Hürzeler made a quadruple substitution an hour into Brighton’s Premier League game against Manchester City. Brighton had been scratchy, had struggled to create and were a goal down, but the changes transformed the game and they won 2-1. Hürzeler explained he had been guided by “a feeling that comes from inside … In some moments my body says something to me. Not just in football but generally in life you need to have the courage to take the decisions you want to.”
Hürzeler had spent most of his press conference trying to deflect or at least share out the praise. He talked of his players and how important their energy and belief had been, and he stressed that the substitutions had been a collective decision made with his coaching staff. Management these days is a world of data and analysis, of careful programming and meticulous plans. But ultimately what won the game was Hürzeler’s intuition.
There was something almost refreshingly old-fashioned about the revelation. That intuition, of course, does not come from nowhere, but is based on years of observation and experience. But that capacity to smell the game, not only to understand the technical detail but to ride and shape the shifting emotional dynamics of the occasion, often seems overlooked.
The best recent example of a manager intuiting the psychological elements of the game and reacting accordingly perhaps came in March 2019. Manchester United went to Paris Saint-Germain having lost the first leg of their Champions League last-16 tie 2-0. By half-time at the Parc des Princes, improbably, they led 2-1. Many would have attacked, seeking a third that would have brought an away-goals victory. But Ole Gunnar Solskjær instead had United sit off. PSG were quite happy with that: they led 3-2 on aggregate. Only in the last 15 minutes did United attack.
They did so with belief. Solskjær himself was the embodiment of the club’s historic capacity to score decisive late goals. PSG wilted, as they so often had before when the line came in sight. United got a penalty, Marcus Rashford converted and Solskjær’s side went through on away goals. Attack early in the second half, and PSG might have had time to score again; the late assault, though, played on ingrained anxieties.
Go back to the 80s or 90s and most of the discourse around English football centres on motivation and psychological tricks. Even 20 years ago, the conversation around the various failures of the England national team focused on their supposed absence of passion. Managers were seen as messianic figures, revered less for their tactical understanding than for their capacity to motivate.
Some sort of correction was probably necessary but it may be that the reaction has gone too far. In part, that’s probably because that’s just how things are; resets never finish in the perfect spot. In part it’s probably down to the data revolution: the production of statistics that would never even have been considered a decade or so ago can create the fallacy that the game is entirely explicable by numbers. And in part it’s probably a result of the profound influence of Pep Guardiola, a tactical genius whose mastery of shape and position is so great that he has never much had to concern himself with geeing players up or instilling confidence.
But, for most, football is not just about the deployment of resources and the best-laid plans. It’s also about recognising and seizing opportunity, the tide in the affairs of man which, taken at the flood, leads on to glory. Such questions are always bound up in hypotheticals, but it was hard to avoid the feeling last weekend that, an hour and a half after Brighton took their chance, Mikel Arteta let one slip through his fingers.
Liverpool were vulnerable. They had conceded two goals in each of their first three games of the season. They had a midfielder playing at right-back and a new left-back who has looked extremely uncertain. There are still adjusting to the new shape in midfield. Crystal Palace, Bournemouth and Newcastle had all made Liverpool look shaky by attacking them. What if Arsenal had done that? What if Arsenal had been aggressive from the off, had put Liverpool under pressure in the opening 20 minutes? Noni Madueke had the beating of Milos Kerkez; what if they had used him more? What if they had really tested Dominik Szoboszlai defensively?
It was a similar story at the Etihad the season before last when Arsenal, on top with 20 minutes to go, seemingly opted to take the draw and protect their lead at the top of table rather than seeking a win that would have given them clear water over Manchester City, a policy that left them vulnerable to the sort of run of wins City then embarked on coupled with their own slip-up against Aston Villa.
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It’s possible, of course, that they would have been picked off on the break at Anfield. And it’s true also that they were without Bukayo Saka and Kai Havertz, with Martin Ødegaard fit enough only for the bench and William Saliba forced off early. But equally, what does it say about Arteta’s faith in his squad and his new signings if his response to losing players is to retreat into negativity? Even without those four, Arsenal are still man-for-man a better side than Bournemouth or Palace, perhaps even than Newcastle.
By seeking control, Arsenal allowed Liverpool to stabilise. In the second half, Liverpool had two-thirds of the ball before they scored. It may have been a freakishly brilliant goal, but Arsenal created the environment in which that could occur; give a high-class team a lot of the ball and there is always the risk one of them does something exceptional.
For lesser sides that may still be the way of playing most likely to bring a desirable result, but potential title winners probably need the capacity to read the mood and know when to gamble. It may even be that, in a tight race, that edge is what defines a champion. That is not a way of thinking much enjoyed by modern football. It likes statistics and provables. But sometimes, football – life – is about feel, sensing the moment and seizing it.
