Stillness and Speed: My Story (27 page)

I don’t think so. Let’s look it up . . . OK . . . between 1968 and 1992 United were second . . . four times. And won some Cups. And got relegated one year. For a few years Leeds
were the giants. Then for 20 years Liverpool were the giants. And when you arrived, the reigning champions were Blackburn Rovers. Admittedly, United were on a roll. They became champions in
’93 then did the Double the next year. And in your first season they did the Double again. But the idea of them being this mega-club who won all the time was recent.

‘It’s strange because I had a different impression. When I first came here, it felt like it’s a big achievement to compete, not only with them but other teams as well. In my
first season we qualified for the UEFA Cup. Everyone was happy about that. And United had everything to be a successful team for many years. I didn’t feel that at Arsenal. We didn’t
feel we could compete for the championship. It wasn’t normal. In my first season it was like “UEFA Cup! Yay!!” And where did we finish? Fifth? But the steps we made afterwards . .
. In my opinion, in those years, those five, six, seven years, we were really equal to Man U and even in a few of those we were better. In the Invincibles season, definitely, and maybe one or two
seasons before and after that. Those were big steps, big steps.’

Can we take it back to penalties? It’s not fair to remember Villa Park when for years your penalties were rock solid. You hardly ever missed for Arsenal, Inter, Ajax or Holland. Your
technique was no frills and no risk, wasn’t it? Hard and straight into a corner after a no-nonsense run-up which was neither too long nor too short.

‘I didn’t make a song and dance out of it. I always approached penalties seriously, even when we were four-nil up. I just wanted to score every time. It was another goal for my
total. In particular I felt that at Ajax. Because I was top scorer and goals are your lifeblood.’

Did you ever consider a ‘Panenka’ or varying your run-up?

‘During training, just for the fun of it, but not too seriously. The Panenka was a stroke of genius, an amazing solution at that moment. Panenka knew his best chance was a lob down the
middle because Sepp Maier always went to a corner. But from then on the Panenka became a risky proposition. What if the keeper stays put? It’s like the Cruyff-Olsen penalty. When Cruyff
played the ball sideways [from the penalty spot] and [Jesper] Olsen ran into the box everyone stood and gaped. No one understood what was happening [Olsen drew the goalkeeper, then squared the ball
back to Cruyff to put into the net]. But nowadays your opponent would respond immediately. For a while it was fashionable to saunter in to provoke some movement from the keeper. I did that a few
times, but it didn’t feel comfortable. Because there’s hesitation in your run-up, you can start to doubt yourself. So I quickly went back to my tried and trusted method: a straight
run-up and straight shot, actually one continuous, highly energised action.’

Why did the Dutch national team have such a terrible problem with shootouts?

‘I played in five tournaments, and four of them we went out on penalties. It was so frustrating . . . and even more frustrating when you score your own penalty. You do what is expected,
but penalties are never in your hands.’

Watching from afar, something seemed very wrong. Was it that you were all so good technically that you didn’t see shootouts as a special discipline requiring a German-type approach?
Was it a wrong attitude? Did the Dutch not take penalties seriously enough?

‘How can you not take a penalty seriously?’

I don’t know. Why did Seedorf keep taking penalties and missing?

‘You think it’s a matter of practising more?’

Did you practise enough?

‘Enough is never enough. What is enough? You can never simulate the same pressure. You can practise and practise but it’s still different when you get to a real shootout. So, first
you have to be good enough to take penalties. Then you have to deal with the pressure. Of course it’s a mental thing. It’s not only Seedorf. Other players as well went up for the
penalty thinking: “I’m going to take it, and I’m going to do it in a certain way.” Maybe it’s a Dutch thing. Maybe an arrogant thing.’

Do you mean making it too complicated like Ronald de Boer against Brazil? His dummy ended in disaster.

‘That’s what you say.’

You said yourself: ‘It’s not the way I would have taken it.’

‘Well, you can try something. But you’re playing with it. You’re underestimating the pressure. It’s not that you’re not taking it seriously. He [De Boer] is. He
thinks: “This is the best way,” and maybe he’s done it in training. But when there’s pressure . . . I wouldn’t have done it that way because it’s not the best
option. But I think it’s very difficult to say: “You should have done this” or “You should have done that.” Of course you should have done better. You missed the
penalty. But I don’t see a difference in me aiming for the corner and it being saved or someone else kicking it over. You make a decision, and that decision is based on “This is my best
play”, but a near-miss is still a miss.’

There’s been lots of work done by academics on penalties and shootouts. Game theorists have their theories. Number crunchers have data on the habits and patterns of goalkeepers and
penalty-takers.

‘OK, but in the nineties we kept on getting knocked out of tournaments on penalties. And we’re now twenty, almost twenty-five years later . . . There must have been plenty of
studies, but no one comes up with a result! I’ve still never heard: “This is why you didn’t win that penalty shootout.”’

Well, we know some things, like the coin toss is important because the team shooting first has a 60-40 advantage.

‘But can you influence a coin toss? I agree with the figure, but it’s still a gamble. Whatever you do, it’s still a gamble. You can practise enough, you can win the coin toss,
you can hold each other’s hands, you know, and be confident and whatever, but still it’s down to taking that penalty. And that pressure is something you can’t simulate in
training.’

But surely we know what a good penalty is? Some of Holland’s missed penalties were just awful. Jaap Stam against Italy: crazily high over the bar. Paul Bosvelt: weak and too near the
goalie. Ronald de Boer against Brazil . . . Seedorf against France . . . These weren’t good penalties. So what happened technically or psychologically? Is it panic? Everybody says, ‘Be
clear what you’re going to do’ and ‘Vary your patterns.’ All these kind of things . . .

‘Then you assume the Dutch never thought about that?’

Well, what was the thinking? Why did Van Basten miss in ’92?

‘You think Marco didn’t take Denmark seriously? Didn’t have enough holiday? Or that he’s arrogant because he’s Dutch?’

I don’t know. What do you think?

‘He missed the penalty.’

He leaned backwards.

‘Did he mean to do that, do you think? People most of the time, they want to have a reason why they missed. Oh, I leaned backwards, I must have taken about three million shots in my life,
and this one I leaned backwards, but why? Because it’s a penalty? Because it’s Schmeichel? Because I’m nervous? That’s very difficult to say. There’s an element of
chance as well. You don’t know. I think Marco took lots of penalties in Milan that season. He always had the same rhythm, he always took it the same way . . . it’s difficult. There are
a lot of studies. A lot of people have opinions about it. But you don’t know unless you’ve been there. And I’ll tell you, Marco did practise. He did ten penalties before the game.
What would you say? “Yeah, but ten is not enough, he should have taken fifty.” You know? What is enough? What’s good? What’s bad? I find it really difficult.’

But you can’t say, as the English have for years, that it’s ‘a lottery’.

‘And you can’t criticise people by saying: “You took a bad penalty, you should have done better.” Of course, I should have done better against Schmeichel as well. But are
people going to criticise me that I didn’t take it seriously? That I didn’t take Schmeichel seriously? That I didn’t practise before? Come on!’

No, but when Frank de Boer winks at Toldo then takes a terrible penalty, what’s the psychology? It’s a textbook example of how not to do it.

‘Now you’re judging? With all due respect, you’ve never been in that situation. And still you’re judging someone who has been there?’

Yes.

‘You’re telling him he took the penalty wrong?’

He did take the penalty wrong. It was terrible.

‘No, it was a miss.’

It was a terrible penalty.

‘He missed the penalty, therefore it’s not good. You can’t have a good penalty that is saved. I’ve tried to explain that . . .’

But surely a penalty missed because of a great save isn’t the same as a penalty skied almost out of the stadium?

‘I don’t see that.’

But the Dutch had to find a way to do better at shootouts somehow?

‘Of course.’

The Dutch have tried a change of policy, but Dennis is not convinced by the approach. After the Italy fiasco, the KNVB instituted a new rule: to improve the nation’s penalty skills, all
junior matches would henceforth end with a penalty shootout. Dennis: ‘But you can’t
only
train the lower youth teams to take penalties! If the KNVB wants to make a change,
that’s good, but implement it across the board, with all ages and persevere. Look at Germany. They panicked after Euro 2000, too, because they finished bottom of their group. The DFB (German
Football Association) was already talking about reforming their academies after the 1998 World Cup. Then after Euro 2000 they made really radical changes. They switched the emphasis from training
power and athletic ability to technique, more like the Dutch way. Now you see the results. Germany now has the kind of footballers you wouldn’t have seen fifteen years ago: Mario Götze,
Marko Reus, Thomas Müller, Toni Kroos . . . wonderful players, and attractive football played by Dortmund, Bayern and the national team. They worked systematically to change things across the
board, and it has produced incredible results. In Holland, the lowest youth team still practise taking penalties . . . but nothing else has changed! You know, we won on penalties once [against
Sweden in the quarter-final of Euro 2004] so no one was really bothered any more. But that’s not how it works. Once you identify a problem you have to start working on solving it at the
bottom of your organisation. But you mustn’t stop there. You have to work all the way through, right up to the top. If you’re convinced, as KNVB, that you have to teach Dutch
footballers how to take penalties, then you have to really do it seriously. And that’s what we’re trying to do at Ajax now. I’m not just talking about penalties. I’m talking
about everything. The Germans looked at the Dutch and learned. And now we’re looking at them, and trying to do exactly the same thing: working in a systematic and concentrated way to
implement changes and train our talents differently. And we will succeed.’

18

I
AN
W
RIGHT
: ‘T
HE
touch! The turn! They should slow that goal down
with some classical music and put it in a museum. Yeah! And make people see that it’s a real bit of poetry in motion.’

Thierry Henry: ‘You’re talking about a great goal, but talking won’t do it justice, so just
watch
it.’

The two most prolific strikers in Arsenal’s history are talking about the goal voted by fans as the club’s best-ever, the one scored in a league match at Newcastle in March 2002. To
recall the essentials: receiving a low, driven pass with his back to goal, Dennis Bergkamp conjures a never-previously-imagined turn to beat defender Nikos Dabizas, flicking the ball right,
spinning himself left and meeting the ball goal-side before calmly opening his body to side-foot past the advancing goalkeeper, Shay Given. Arsenal officials hoped to immortalise the moment in
bronze when they commissioned a statue of Dennis for the Emirates Stadium. Sadly, this proved technically impossible. As film-maker Paul Tickell observes: ‘It would need Boccioni back from
the dead to sculpt that goal.’

‘That goal at Newcastle is a genius moment, so people have to cast doubt on it,’ says Ian Wright. ‘But I’ve seen Dennis do stuff like that in training so when people ask:
“Did he mean it?” I say: “Of course he fucking meant it!” He’s an architect of space, so I reckon he’s done the drawings, measured everything and built it all in
a split-second. And if someone says: “But he couldn’t have done that flick on purpose,” I say it makes no difference ’cos the speed of thought was such that he was able to
readjust and finish with
aplomb
.’

Thierry Henry rebukes doubters in a slightly different fashion. ‘When people ask me about that goal I just go: “Dennis Bergkamp.” And they say: ‘Yeah, but did he mean it
. . .? Do you think . . .?” So I say it again: “Dennis Bergkamp.” That’s my answer. I didn’t play in that game. I was watching at home and my first thought was
“What!?”
But you have players like that in history. Like Cantona was Cantona and Zizou was Zizou and Maradona was Maradona. You don’t have to comment on everything.
Sometimes you just have to witness. Only Dennis can tell you what happened and I will believe him. Most of his goals he thought about before he received the ball. That’s Dennis
Bergkamp.’

* * *

B
UT HOW DID
Dennis do it? And why do people still wonder if he ‘meant’ his masterpiece?

Dennis: ‘The whole question is strange. What do they mean by
what did I mean
? Which part do they think I didn’t mean? Do I see it all in advance? Do I think:
“I’ll put it there, turn this way, then push?” Of course not. The situation creates the move. A few years ago I asked myself: “How can you describe a good footballer?”
and my answer was: “The best players are the players who adjust to the situation they’re given in the best way.” The question is always: “how do you adjust?” I want
the pass from Pires to my feet, but it comes behind me. It’s not what I expect, so I think: “I need another idea here.” It’s like when Messi sets off on a run. The first
defender moves that way, so he goes this way. Did he “mean” it before? Did he plan it? No, he’s responding, inventing. “There’s a defender here, so I go there. Oh,
there’s another one there, so I drop my shoulder . . .” If people ask: “Did you mean the goal?” I say: “No, when I got on the coach to Newcastle I didn’t mean to
score a goal like that.” The ball came in a certain way, so I turned and twisted and did this and that.’