Archive for category Manchester United
+/- : SLIVERS OF SENSE IN STUPID STATS
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Champions League, Manchester United, Premiership, Ronaldo, Statistics, Tevez on April 27th, 2009
Does Tevez Have the Best Plus-Minus in the Game?
Plus-minus differential has long functioned as one of hockey’s central statistics. Over the last two years, the stat has gathered momentum in the NBA to help measure an individual’s contribution to team performance beyond worn numbers like points and rebounds.
In soccer, the statistic is understandably ignored. Too many players working together on the field produce too few goals to statistically isolate one player’s contribution to team success. Except, that is, when you’re looking at Carlos Tevez.

Without the facts to back it up, I’m willing to bet that Tevez has the best plus-minus differential in the Premiership this season. Of course, playing for United automatically gives any player a good plus-minus, as United have the second best goal-differential in the league. But Tevez’ hand in that number, both as a starter and substitute, cannot be denied. If I had more time and better resources I would prove that, proportionally, he has contributed to it more than anyone.
Against Tottenham on Saturday, Sir Alex Ferguson made one change at halftime, down 2-0 at home. He brought on Tevez for Nani. United then scored five goals in 22 minutes. Although not always present in the highlight-clips of those goals, Tevez’ presence impacted almost all of them. His defensive pressure repeatedly forced Tottenham to turn the ball over. He sparked the counter-attacks that Rooney and Ronaldo finished.
His productivity is undeniable, and leaves me scrapping for a way to statistically prove it. Working with the most rudimentary stats available on soccernet.com, I came up with this: United is 15-2-2 in the Premiership this season when Tevez plays over 45 minutes (9-3-3 when he doesn’t). If you think such performance doesn’t deviate enough from how United performed without Tevez to mean much, then consider that those two losses both came to Liverpool, games in which Tevez still produced. Tevez scored the lone United goal in September’s 2-1 loss. And he set up United’s opening goal in the recent 4-1 loss (a score line that didn’t reflect the closeness of the match) with an incisive ball to Park Ji Sun that drew a penalty.
Given his goals-per-minute played (my intern is looking into this), and his stunning shot percentage, Tevez appears one of the most efficient players in the game – along with teammate Rooney, Messi, and a few strikers who see far less of the ball. Playing limited minutes, and openly frustrated by it, Tevez has still amassed 14 goals in all competitions this year. He scored these goals on 112 shots. Last season, he started 31 Premiership games and grabbed 14 goals and 7 assists on 92 shots. Compare these numbers to the 318 shots that Ronaldo has needed this year to get 31 goals, or the 324 that Ronaldo took in 2006/07 to bag 26. I’m not saying Tevez has been more productive than Ronaldo, as looking at shots vs. goals gives a limited and misguiding picture of a player’s productivity, but such numbers make you wonder what Tevez could do with more playing time, and more scoring opportunities.
His goals haven’t come in garbage games either. He has played a crucial role in United’s quest for the quintuple (now quadruple) this season. His four goals single-handedly crushed Blackburn in the Carling Cup. He scored two goals en route to a 4-0 win over Fulham in the FA Cup Quarterfinals. Among a few crucial Champions League goals, he scored a decisive goal in the first leg against Porto, immediately after coming off the bench.
Can plus-minus be a telling statistic in soccer? Haven’t people tried this, and where can I find it? Which other players have the best plus-minus scores in the game or on their team? Mascherano? Fabregas? Ferdinand?◊

RONALDO VS. FABREGAS AND THE FORCES OF CHANGE
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Arsenal, Fabregas, MLS, Managers, Manchester United, Premiership, Ronaldo, Style, World Cup on April 20th, 2009
Placing Ronaldo and Fabregas Within the Evolutionary Trajectory of Soccer
Cristiano Ronaldo, 24, and Cesc Fabregas, 21, are emblematic of modern soccer. Barely on the backside of puberty, the two have become indispensable players on two of the biggest clubs in the world. They share boyish good looks and European-underwear-model hairdos. Despite their similarities, however, these two wunderkinds have evolved in very different ways. Together, their examples will change the sport.

When Ronaldo entered the public eye he was the cock-sure, crybaby prince— Joaquin Phoenix in Gladiator—who we, at least at first, loved to hate. He came on the scene as if everybody—referees, players and fans—owed him something they weren’t giving. He would sell straw-legged flops with a pout and wet eyes. He bickered with veteran teammates about taking free kicks. He played with a reckless disregard for fundamental soccer and the benefit of his team to show off his twinkle-toed feet and You-Tube-ready tricks.
Seething in front of televisions, I used to count his turnovers in the defensive third, wanting to get on the field just so I could break his toothpick-sized legs. I predicted that United would dump him after two seasons of painfully inefficient football. I would have.
Thank god I’m not a manager. Sir Alex Ferguson showed consummate faith in the talent, and there has never been an athlete on this planet about whom I have more resolutely changed my opinion. Besides becoming arguably the best player in the world, Ronaldo has even begun to shed his abrasive, crybaby demeanor. Taking cues from Rooney, he chases on the defensive end, even tackling once in a while. He wins headers over center backs twice his girth. He makes smart and incisive passes. And despite all the harsh tackles aimed his way, he has established himself as a relentless and surprisingly durable force.
Now everybody does owe him something, and he plays as if he always knew it, a smile-cracked pout when a defender commits a foul to prevent him from skipping to goal. None of the other superstars on his team ask questions when he lines up for spot kicks, which he snaps toward net with some freakish combination of swerve and knuckle.
During the 1998 World Cup, Adidas ran an ad in which a tour guide led the way through a future fictional player’s back yard. The guide said something like: “And this is where he perfected his revolutionary kick, the double helix.” Maybe it’s the modern balls, but Ronaldo has proved that Impossible is, indeed, nothing. In a Champions League game against Sporting Portugal last season, he scored the clinching goal with a free kick that looked as if two separate magnetic forces guided the ball, which spiraled into bottom corner of the net.
Instead of turning his moves down to make them more manageable, Ronaldo has learned to use them effectively, absorbing them into a repertoire of technical brilliance. He has made routine what were once once eye-catching tricks like back-heel through balls, behind-the-leg crosses, and behind-the-leg direction changes. They are no longer disgusting or ineffective displays of pomp. They beguile. They slice defenses apart. And kids around the world try to emulate them.
Ronaldo, like no other player in the modern game, has raised the bar of possibility. Where as a player like Ronaldinho showcases skills that those with good touch, passion, and enough time can grasp, Ronaldo’s warp-speed moves come from a more supernatural realm, where time and space have different properties than we are used to. It’s as if he’s transferred all elements of personality, some of which might have even been endearing, to the shimmering gloss of his technical makeup. As vacuous as he may be, Ronaldo suggests that in the modern game personality only slows you down. Sports evolve by getting faster, and Ronaldo has upped the anti. A hummingbird that knows no stasis, he darts sideways and then back to the same spot in a blink, vibrating above the context of a game, irrespective of the rooted defenders and teammates surrounding him.
Ronaldo also possesses a quality crucial to both his own evolution and that of the game; he is hungry. Over the past few years his facial expression during games has changed from a wet-eyed adolescent looking for pity to a moist-eyed, near-adult who knows he doesn’t need it. Maybe it’s his long-necked complexion, which brings to mind a fledgling gawking for food, but Ronaldo looks famished compared to other superstars. He doesn’t simply want the ball; he needs it for his team to win. This hunger clashes with the complacency that other superstars like Ronaldinho have slipped into over the years. While Ronaldinho’s carefree attitude may add to his magical appeal, it also makes us believe that he could do more.
Maybe Ronaldo’s transformation came as much from circumstance as from within, from playing under Sir Alex Ferguson in the Premiership, a league that doesn’t forgive complacency. The league’s relentless expectations have forced him to constantly bring his best and to keep improving. The league’s physicality forced him to develop armor. And the league’s pace made him even faster. Also, Sir Alex Ferguson has provided Ronaldo the magic combination of guidance and freedom. Ferguson has prompted Ronaldo to be more intelligent and conservative in his own half. At the same time, Ronaldo gets more artistic license on the attack than anyone in the game. Good idea. He teleports around the field, free to exploit weak points in an opponent’s defense. As a result, he took the scoring title in Premiership last year, as a wing midfielder, by an absurd margin. This year he has more quietly topped the table again.
Messi serves as the most apt counterpart to Ronaldo in the modern game. Another mutant, Messi possesses similarly freakish speed. He plays a similar position. And compared to Ronaldo’s dives and flashy moves, Messi shrugs off challenges while using simple, efficient jukes, and an innate understanding of the game.
But Fabregas counters Ronaldo on a larger, more ecological, scale. The opposite of a freak, Fabregas has no stunning athletic abilities. He is one of the most unassuming players in the game. While Ronaldo conjures some pomp bird splaying blinding feathers, as Brian Phillips suggests in his portrait of the winger in The Run of Play, Fabregas might conjure a kind of spirit-organism instead of simply an animal. A mushroom, or the fruiting body of some highly intricate subterraneous mycelial network, Fabregas seems more essential to the life of his team than any higher-order animal. He recycles errant possessions, keeps attacks alive, and gives them the nutrients to bloom. Highly sensitive to the requirements of everyone around him, Fabregas binds every element of his team together: backs to strikers, wings to wings, past to future, nothing to life.
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Good central midfielders do this. But Fabregas plays with a sort of contradictory brilliance, somehow all the more brilliant for the way he deflects attention. Instead of soaking up the spotlight when he has the ball, he deflects it in a way that forces us to pull the spotlight back, to uncover light and a connectedness of movement and understanding that we didn’t see before. While appearing every bit the pretty boy as Ronaldo, while probably wreaking just as much of gelled hair and cologne up close, he plays with a modesty that makes irrelevant any highlight reals or snap shots of his game. The fluidity of his game makes it more significant than the the sum of its parts. He makes complex plays look easy, with a smoothness that makes them mundane, as natural to his being as blinking, or pumping blood. He links these plays together, one by one throughout the course of a game, until we see the larger picture and purpose of his work and his team. In this way, he connects Arsenal and their fans as one body, as one collective consciousness of their beautiful purpose.
To appreciate Fabregas, you also need to see the context in which he plays, how he reads and pushes the narrative of any game, how he controls the ebb and flow of all the players around him. The cornerstone of Wenger’s offense, he makes Arsenal’s gears hum with a cool, measured efficiency that he holds the levers to. He links quick passes to diffuse pressure. He uses a deft first touch to evade a defender and switch the field. He slips perfectly weighted balls behind a back line. His own game has a million predecessors. And as professor Wenger’s understudy, he will test the limits of its’ perfection.
Fabregas, like history itself, is all context – the opposite of Ronaldo, whose game functions as a sum of unrelated clips. Ronaldo is one sparkling pop single after another; Fabregas is an album that reinvents itself over time. In this way watching Fabregas is somehow so much more edifying than watching Ronaldo do the impossible. Fabregas helps us better understand the game – its’ roots and its’ future – the way its’ relentless simplicity belies its’ indecipherable complexity.
As with Ronaldo, Fabregas’ accelerated development could only have come in the Premiership. He has said so himself. If Fabregas chose to stay with the Barcelona youth team, where he trained alongside Messi in the midfield, he would have had to wait his turn behind a pecking order of talented central midfielders: Deco, Xavi, Iniesta, Motta. At Arsenal, Wenger threw Fabregas into the fire. As a result, at 18 Fabregas was a man-child, one of the most consistent players in the game.

Unlike Ronaldo, Fabregas doesn’t get embroiled in clashes with opponents, referees, or fans. He doesn’t show a self-conscious awareness of the dozens of television cameras idolizing his every step. For Ronaldo, like many other players, maybe the fracases with referees and the winks toward cameras serve as evidence of caring too much. But Fabregas’ isolation from these external distractions reaffirms his Zen-like focus on himself and his place within a larger schema. When he scored the 25-yard clincher against A.C. Milan at the San Siro last year he didn’t taunt the fans or dance around the pitch. He ran over to hug his coach.
While Ronaldo might represent the game’s biggest evolutionary jump, providing new laws that require time to test properly, Fabregas reminds us all how the game can and will remain tied to the past, how it depends on the same beautiful laws it always has to move forward. If only we could crossbreed the two. Or maybe we already have, and we call him Messi…◊
CHELSEA, WILTING PANSIES
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Chelsea, Manchester United, Premiership on January 12th, 2009
Chelsea got spanked by Manchester United over the weekend, 3-0. This morning, the soccer media took predictable shots at them.
Chelsea are done. Toast. Dried up. Scolari is a failure, and a hack. They’ll be lucky to finish third.
“The Blues’ era of prominence has passed,” declared Jorge Moran, of FoxSoccer.com.
Maybe it has. But how can so many professional analysts write off a team of this caliber? In no other league besides the Premiership does the media collect such fickle judgments and try to pass them off as certainty. Like stink clouds clinging to bathroom air, the consistency of these judgments will dissipate and guilty analysts will pretend they never made them.

If Chelsea had won this past weekend, everyone would be talking about United’s demise.
With 17 league games to play, none of the top three juggernauts is out of the race. Any of the three teams could run the table for the rest of the year. And any of them could lose more than a few games given the increased parity of the league this year, with Aston Villa, Everton, and, of course, Arsenal, still knocking on the Top Four door.
Chelsea still possess the best goal differential in the league. This stat doesn’t automatically translate to league titles, but it has for the last five league campaigns.
Maybe Chelsea’s scoring is drying up, as many Chelsea fans feared. Anelka couldn’t possibly maintain his streaky start. And Chelsea’s reliance on two one-dimensional strikers has been exposed of late.

But the Blues have too many explosive weapons to bend over. Drogba hasn’t even gotten started yet this season. And many of their attackers have underperformed (Deco, Mallouda, Ballack, and Kalou).
Chelsea’s dismal performance against United is definitely cause for concern. They have problems. But they haven’t failed yet.
What’s Wrong?
I think my girlfriend might have said it best: “Chelsea’s problem is that they’re all pansies … They don’t try hard enough.”
She’s right. Only United seemed capable of reaching a higher gear. They dug deeper. They wore their grit on their uniforms and their faces. While Drogba whined to the Referee after he lost the ball, Rooney would turn and give chase all the way back to his own box. While Deco hid in the shadows and threw up his hands when he didn’t receive a ball, Giggs and Fletcher slid in front of passes and runs to win the ball. Even Ronaldo, the Pretty Boy’s Poster Boy, dug in, won 50/50 balls, and tracked back.
Compared to Chelsea, United have grittier players. Evra, Vidic, Fletcher, Giggs, Park, Evans, and Rooney, (and Ferdinand and Scholes, when playing) all appear to bleed their colors. This is a testament to the type of passion that Sir Alex inculcates at his club. Somehow you don’t feel the same exuberance from the Chelsea players. Only a few fit into this category.
In the last few years, Chelsea’s superstars have developed a languid spirit that gets exposed in big games. Against lesser teams, this spirit can masquerade as style. Ballack and Deco glide around the pitch, never taxing themselves too much, or risking injury on tackles.

Maybe this is the way these gifted athletes play the game. They play with professional calmness and finesse, naturally making difficult movements look easy. But against a team as passionate as United, their fluidity appears more listless by comparison.
United’s passion won them the game. They were first to balls in both boxes. Park Ji Sun’s hustle on the left flank opened up Chelsea’s defense and produced valuable free kicks. On the attacking end, Chelsea’s front men stopped moving. They didn’t stand a chance of cracking United’s defense.
Blaming effort sounds like a childish and oversimplified diagnosis of Chelsea’s failure. It’s the type of criticism that youth and high school coaches heap on their teams because they don’t know any better. This is true. But when teams of world-class talent lock horns, sometimes passion is the only thing that separates them. To me, it seems the only real obstacle that Chelsea has to winning the title.
Are Chelsea really not trying hard enough? Is this absurd? Can Chelsea still win the league?
FACT OR FAITH: CONSIDERING THE IMPACT OF STATISTICS ON THE BEAUTIFUL GAME
Posted by Cyrus Philbrick in Arsenal, BLOGADINHO, Managers, Manchester United, Premiership, Statistics on October 27th, 2008
*Originally published in April, 2008
Soccer has long had less capacity for statistical analysis than any other major sport. This is primarily because of the nature of the game, free-flowing and low scoring and simple to its core. It doesn’t offer the many frames for measurement that so many American sports rely on. Baseball, basketball, and football offer a slew of averages, splits, percentages and ratios that keep Phd-level mathematicians employed.
Soccer’s insulation from data and numbers is part of what has kept it romantic and hard for so many Americans, addicted to statistics-saturated fantasy sports leagues, to stomach. It is truly all about feeling—for players, managers and fans alike. Every sport runs on illogical passions and beer-fueled arguments, but none more than soccer. It is innately subjective. This preserves the ignorance and bias of all who analyze games and players, but it also preserves the game’s lyrical nature, the color and light of perspective and narrative. It protects soccer from the type of statistics-drooling fans that infest baseball—the kind that give you regrettably well-researched evidence of a player’s rating as based on fielding metrics technology even though they don’t know how a shortstop should straddle second base when making a tag out. In soccer, by contrast, maintaining an informed opinion about a game or a player has always required two things: you need to have a deep understanding of the sport, and you need to watch games unfold.
In the last ten years, however, the hot probes of science have been busy giving soccer a lobotomy. Software companies like ProZone, which give computerized video and statistical analysis of games, claim to provide an objective picture of both a player and team’s performance. ProZone, which doesn’t come cheep for the pro and amateur clubs that use it (yearly subscriptions cost around £130,000), can cut through some crucial aspects of soccer’s obscurity. Managers use it as a tool to improve team tactics and player technique. But how deep an impact can these programs have on a game so rooted to subjectivity?
Although they will have a permanent and valuable place in the game, computerized analysis programs will probably never replace the good old empirical one, a keen set of eyes. And although such programs make some aspects of soccer more transparent, they are also adding a new language to the surface of the game that tangles us in new arguments and new questions. They compound the game’s subjective mystique at the same time they erase it.

Some managers claim that ProZone proves most valuable when evaluating player performance. ProZone’s biggest champion, Arsene Wenger, praises the program’s ability to reveal the quality and speed of a player’s decisions on the ball.
“Technical superiority is measurable,” Wenger stated in a recent and often-quoted interview conducted by Total Youth Football Magazine. “In the past it was just about feelings, opinions. So I thought, ‘that’s not good enough,’ and I wanted to know a little bit more. I am always in the situation where I have to judge people, and the more concrete objective numbers you have the better you can achieve that.”
ProZone, which uses eight cameras to track infinitesimal movements of every player on the pitch, doesn’t only measure completed passes. It can gauge the circumstances of these passes, where they went, and the other options available. So a player can no longer blame a poor performance on his teammates’ lack of movement, or a lack of options, without this excuse getting scrutinized.
Getting such visual and statistical data gives perspective on a player’s performance, but it seems to prove more valuable as a coaching tool than as a way to rate player value. Reviewing a player’s decisions with the ball, seeing where they maintained possession and where they lost it, could help a player make more positive decisions or movements in a game. But breaking a player’s success down to statistics has flaws and gray areas. Unlike baseball, in which numbers reveal truth over time, soccer relies too heavily on intangible and immeasurable elements, like team chemistry and deception and creativity, for statistics to conclusively quantify an individual’s value. For this reason soccer will never see an equivalent to a book like Moneyball, which showed how certain stats (batting average and stolen bases) had long been overvalued at the expense of others (like walks). No matter how much we try to break soccer down, minute frame by minute frame, it can never have the same statistical framework as baseball.
In a 2005 article on ProZone published in The Independent, former Derby County Manager Phil Brown puts it succinctly: “You wouldn’t pick a team on it but it can back up your gut instinct.”
Relying purely on data to judge or scout players would skew pictures of player value and potential. For example, I am convinced that Cristiano Ronaldo, arguably the best player in the world, would have been rated as one of the most unproductive and inefficient players in the Premiership had he been gauged on ProZone software back in 2003-04. Maybe someone at Manchester United with access to these archives could prove me wrong, but I believe that only observing a budding Ronaldo in the flesh, bearing witness to his supernatural quickness and touch, could have suggested that he would become such a dynamo. The same can be said about great athletes in other sports. But in other sports statistics are more closely linked with ability.
ProZone’s programs can, however, undoubtedly improve a team’s tactical sense and precision. In a 2005 interview with The Independent, Alan Pardew talked about how ProZone helped him see passing patterns in an opposing team’s offense that his team (then Reading) worked to cut out.
“For scouting the opposition and analyzing your team it gives you a wealth of information you cannot get with the naked eye,” Pardew said. “It is a supplement to your judgment.”
ProZone can make defenses more aware, so that they know where they break down and which spaces they need to better cover. And it can make offenses more aware of how they can link passes and find gaps in an opposing team’s defense.

Big Sam Allardyce - a big fan of using statistics to gauge player performance
But coaching by placing too much weight on data threatens to make teams one-dimensional. It can force teams into using too many pre-determined movements, stiffening a game that depends on the magic of creativity and improvisation. A few managers, for example, have used statistics to produce brutally predictable styles. As Matt Dickinson points out in a recent article for The Times Online: “You cannot mention [Aidy] Boothroyd and [Sam] Allardyce in the same sentence without someone saying that all statistics produce is robotic football.” Dickinson highlights the importance Allardyce places on getting measurable production out of each position, such as a “quota of crosses” from his outside wingers. And some pub teams play with more fluidity that Boothroyd’s Watford.
Despite the boring nature of these two manager’s styles, however, they have both enjoyed success. And then, as a crushing counterpoint to the assumption that statistics-based coaching produces stiff soccer, there is Wenger’s Arsenal, a team that wins while playing one of the most fluid, incisive, and enthralling passing styles in the game.

Statistical analysis suggests that efficiency can take many forms. If anything, the meaning of the word efficiency has become increasingly blurred in the sport. Does it mean producing a certain amount of crosses? Does it mean linking the most passes in the least amount of time while going forward? Does it mean producing the highest levels of measurable technical superiority on ProZone? Although statistical programs can offer managers some logical conclusions about strategy and player performance, they also breed more questions. Because managers still need to interpret the heaps of data that ProZone gives them—deciphering a radar-like language of arrows, dots, and numbers—many interpretations exist. Different managers will have different opinions about how they can tweak their shape, strategy, and player roles to improve their team. Better information requires more refined and complex strategies, and also vastly different ones.
An overflow of statistics also poses another hang-up for managers. It can cause managers to focus on the minutia of the sport instead of taking a more comprehensive perspective. In striving for certain levels of efficiency, stat-obsessed managers might forget the root purpose of the game: putting the ball in the back of the net. Although we can attribute Arsenal’s drop in the league table to a number of factors, it might suggest that obsessing over efficiency can sacrifice results. Maybe Wenger will have the last laugh when his test-tube babies come of age in the next few years. But this season’s tables might suggest that while Wenger was busy grooming players to rate highly on ProZone, Chelsea and Manchester United followed the tried and true formula of stockpiling proven players that produce goals and win games. Call me crazy, but I think the most “efficient” team is usually the one with the best goal differential at the end of the season.
Maybe in the future, when every club employs PHD-level statisticians and when ProZone-inspired technologies will be available in real time for the masses watching games from home, we will have a more refined statistical language that will come closer to revealing what efficiency truly means. We will throw around stats like “Attacking Third Productivity Rating” or “Forward Passing Success Rate” that could highlight underrated players and show which teams have been more effective advancing the ball. When this occurs I might eat some of my words. But I predict that even using this sort of statistical language will only produce more arguments about player value and playing style. We will more firmly pit statistical fact against observation and gut feeling.

More "Wenger" than evil?
Maybe scientific managers like Wenger have set the stage for a war of Lost-like proportions within the game. Soccer is the island, a mysterious, untamable, and beautiful beast. Wenger is (maybe a little unfairly) the character Ben, leader of the “Others,” a master of manipulation, bent on scientific methods of deconstruction. His tinkering has bred tensions between future and past, brain and heart, fact and faith, design and free will
These tensions are not new in the sport, or any other sport. But as with Lost, in soccer it has never been more difficult than now to pull these forces apart from each other, to know which one is at work and which one to believe in. To dismiss ProZone and new forms of statistical analysis would be ignorant, but believing in them unconditionally might be more dangerous. Fans that do so will miss the true picture and beauty of the game. And managers that do so won’t survive.



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