Jude Bellingham and the Midfield Numbers Game
Coming into the Euro’s, the expectation on Jude Bellingham was huge. A Champions League winner, shortlisted for the Ballon D’or. The pervading narrative now seems to be that he has underperformed, despite a handful of stand-out moments, most notably his stunning overhead kick against Slovakia, it’s probably fair to say his performances haven’t quite scaled the heights we hoped for. This happens. In just about every tournament, a big player falls short of expectations and it’s probably futile to try and dissect the reasons why this happens.
But dissect it we do, in Tv studios, from our armchairs, our phones and laptops.
In dissecting Bellingham’s performances, much of he focus has been centred around where he is best utilised. More specifically, around whether he is ‘a 10 or an 8’.
There are many examples of the lexicon of modern football dominating coverage and analysis of the game. There is no greater example of this than the way in which midfielders are now divided up into three principle positions, all of which are summed up by the application of a single digit.
This doesn’t just go for TV punditry or cooler-than-though football hipster websites, these terms have become so deeply ingrained within how we talk about the game, that the atomisation of whether a midfield player is a 6, an 8 or a 10 seeps into the most casual of pub or workplace chats.
An opening salvo of “see we’ve signed that midfielder we were after” as two pints are placed on the table would once probably have been followed up with little more than
“Oh yeah? He any good?”
“Yeah, he’s alright I think.”
At which point that particular line of conversation would most likely peter out.
Now, even the more casual fan is more likely to follow up with
“Oh yeah? What is he, a 6?”
“Probably more of an 8, really.”
“Not a 10, then?”
“No, not technical enough to be a 10.”
“A free 8, maybe?”
“Hmmm, I’d prefer him box-to-box.”
“Right. Probably don’t see him playing in a double pivot then?”
“Nah mate. Doesn’t receive it on the half turn well enough for me.”
There’s nothing wrong with this terminology; if nothing else it serves as a quick conversational or analytical shorthand with which to sum up the type of players someone is. It also helps us sound like we know what we’re talking about. Moss and Roy in the famous episode of ‘The I.T. Crowd’ would have benefitted greatly when trying to impress the blokes in the pub. But the overreliance on these terms often clouds a much simpler truth where certain players, and certain positions, are concerned.
There is a seemingly defunct term which used to be commonplace when describing the position of footballers who did their work primarily in the central third of the pitch. We called them central midfielders. Or, if you really wanted to sound like some fancy-pants modernista, you might get away with describing them as a ‘centre mid’, with just a sideways look from yer Da by way of recrimination.
These players would simply do a bit of everything. They were expected to cover the same amount of turf as a ‘box-to-box’ player, to play the same killer passes as a ‘10’, and break up as many opposition attacks as a ‘6’.
In an age where most teams in most leagues played some form of 4-4-2, the need for central midfielders to be so good in so many areas of the pitch was at least partially system-driven, but there are plenty of this type of midfielder knocking about now.
Not least Jude Bellingham.
Employed largely in the 10 role so far in the tournament, either alone or with Phil Foden, the debate around whether this is the position to which he is best suited, or is more of an 8 surrounds him as much as opposing defenders. Well, it’s clear to me that he’s neither. He’s just another example of the kind of centre mid who is capable of doing just about every part of the midfield role to a very high standard, a standard which is elevated further by a drive which makes him, in the word of Toni Kroos, a ‘mentality monster’.
As well as being an example of the over-analysis of the game, the 6/8/10 issue is another example of how some coaches and systems over-coach players, training them over and over to perform one specific role, or operate only within a specific area of the pitch, micro-coaching them to such an extent that they are stripped of any ability to play with freedom or instinct.
Far be it from me to criticise Pep Guardiola, but look at the downturn in Jack Grealish’s from since his move to Manchester City. At Villa, while still having certain obligations, he was free to express himself on the pitch, to do what he felt was right in the moment. Within City’s more rigid system, he has often struggled to show his best form, eventually losing his place in the England squad.
Carlo Ancelotti has spoken often in recent years about exactly this increasing tendency to over-coach players within a system. While far from hands-off, his preference has always been to encourage players to find the solutions in any given moment, trusting their ability, instincts and intelligence.
“I think the mistake that new generation coaches make is that they give too much information about the system on the ball,” he said last year. “I think old school coaches like me prefer not to give too much information and allow freedom for creativity. if Vinícius or Rodrygo feels creative on the ball, I’m not going to tell him what to do. It’s an interpretation of how to play on the ball and I don’t want to remove anybody’s creativity.”
There’s nothing wrong with a player actually naturally being especially adept in any of these roles, but the obsession with them risks robbing some players of their innate creativity. It’s hard to imagine Don Carlo allowing himself to be drawn into shoehorning players into roles that are beginning to feel increasingly reductive. If you asked him the same question everyone is asking about Jude, you’d probably be greeted with a trademark arching of the eyebrow. For this reason, Bellingham, as well as the other exciting young attacking talent surrounding him at Real Madrid, may well have the perfect coach.
The number 10 currently adorning the back of his shirt should simply be an indication of his importance to the team, not a defining characteristic.