Philippe Coutinho and Dan James continue their redemptions as Jacob Ramsey announces himself - The Warm-Up
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Published 10/02/2022 at 08:26 GMT
There's narrative all over the place at Villa Park, as Leeds and Dan James turn up and ruin Philippe Coutinho's day. And Jacob Ramsey's day. And Steven Gerrard's day. Meanwhile, Wilf Zaha claims goal and miss of the season in the space of about five minutes, which is efficient work.
Philippe Coutinho of Aston Villa celebrates after scoring their first goal during the Premier League match between Aston Villa and Leeds United at Villa Park on February 09, 2022
Image credit: Getty Images
THURSDAY'S BIG STORIES
Heartwarming Narratives
Let's begin with Philippe Coutinho. Last night's game against Leeds was a showcase for Villa's new No 23: one goal, a beautiful hit from a player that only scores beautiful hits, but also two assists, from a player who is often accused, a little unfairly, of only scoring beautiful hits. The pass for Villa's second was a particular delight, a scudding, skating ball through a kinked Leeds defence that drew into Jacob Ramsey's path as if Villa Park were a bowling green.
Delight is the word, for Coutinho is fun. At least, he's fun when he's fit and he's playing well, a state of affairs we haven't seen for some time. It's early days at Villa, of course, and the fact that he managed to jar his knee while kicking the ball did cause concern. But as it stands, the delightfulness levels are holding steady. (Obviously Leeds rather took the gloss off this part. But we'll get to that.)
This is, of course, a well-trodden path: expensive move doesn't go too well; player drifts around for a couple of seasons; smaller club makes opportunistic pitch; everybody is delighted. There's a nice Disney-like arc to it, along with a fundamental truth about the game: it turns out it's much easier to play football when you're (a) happy and (b) playing football. (And Leeds don't keep popping up to ruin your evening.)
We're starting to wonder if there was something particularly unwelcoming about Barcelona — the old Barcelona, the one now being rebuilt. Spending money in vast amounts, and badly; picking up players for the splash of it, not the sense; the great distorting presence of the greatest player of all time. It looked a hard place to succeed. Neymar fled, Coutinho and Antoine Griezmann stuttered: if Ousmane Dembélé rocks up at Molineux next season and takes the place apart, we'll know we're onto something. (Unless Leeds rock up as well.)
But it wasn't only Coutinho's evening. (Or Leeds', for that matter.) It is, perhaps, a blessing and a curse that Jacob Ramsey has ended up under Steven Gerrard's management at this stage in his career. It might be quite useful for a young, exciting, dynamic, goalscoring midfielder to have Gerrard hanging around the place, ready to pass on a tip here and there. Try kicking it into the net from the edge of the box. Yep, that's right. But on the other hand, the "next Gerrard?" chat is going to be deafening and endless, endless and deafening. Even the Warm-Up is contributing here, albeit from one remove so we look cool and original.
Asked after the game if Ramsey was following in his footsteps, Gerrard was clear: "He's not following in anyone's footsteps. Jacob Ramsey is Jacob Ramsey." He also asked everybody to "be sensible" and "keep calm", then immediately and rather charmingly failed to take his own advice.
I know the level of the England players, I’ve been around it, and have enough experience to know it’s only a matter of time … I want him to make his own headlines with his football. He is a top talent, I’m loving every moment of working with him. He is getting stronger with each game because we’re giving him the platform to express himself. He is in a wonderful place … He will be a terrific player. It won't be long before the whole country is watching him I'm sure. He is right up there let me tell you.
More Heartwarming Narratives
And that would have been that, were it not for the fact that Leeds kept popping up, rudely insisting that this was a game with two teams, and turning what should have been a decent, sensible win for Aston Villa — a win that would have generated one or two interesting takes — into a complete mess.
A fun mess, let's be clear. Leeds have absolutely no right to be keeping on in such a manner: this weird injury-ravaged squad, this weird insistence on playing weird football in the way they know and trust in the way that has been working for them. The laws of the universe, or at least the laws of the Barclays, suggest that Marcelo Bielsa should have had his thank you and his handshake at some point over the last couple of seasons, on the grounds that this was all too odd to keep working. But it does. Just about. This point puts them four above Everton; this performance puts them miles above Everton.
And in Dan James — bear with us here — they have their own Coutinho-style redemption story going on. Okay, so he never quite made it to superstar, and Manchester United didn't pay nine figures for him. But you know what we were saying about there being some big clubs that it's basically impossible to move to? Yeah, that. Off James went to the big club, and there he sparked and stumbled and looked thoroughly out of place… only to get out of the place and suggest, with his performances, that the place might have been the problem. If only Ole Gunnar Solskjær had thought to stick him up front, to win big headers up against big central defenders. It could all have been so different.
Frankly Confusing Narratives
There are times, watching this silly game of ours, where we start to wonder if it is all just stuff happening. We look for shapes, patterns, stories; we hope that one thing speaks to the next thing. We try and make sense out of it all, get it into some kind of order. And then, every time: stuff just happens.
Consider Wilf Zaha. Last night, against Norwich, he planted his left foot, drew back his right, and send the ball screaming from the corner of the box into the far side of the net. Angus Gunn had no chance. If he'd had Bryan in nets with him as well, they'd have both been beaten. If they'd been joined by film director James Gunn, Treasure Island maroonee Ben Gunn, and 42,000lb World War One howitzer Big Bertha — a very large gun indeed — it would still have been a goal. Also Norwich would probably have been in trouble with the FA.
And then, mere moments later, Zaha planted his left foot, drew back his right, and sent a penalty dribbling off past the post and into ignominy. The same player. A much easier task. Stuff just happens, you know? Sometimes the left foot stays where it's supposed to and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes the ball goes where it's told, sometimes it goes where it wants. You can't hope to understand it. You just have to make the best of it.
Anyway, that penalty miss meant a point for Norwich, which puts them within two points of Everton. Which means it's time to call it: Frank Lampard's new team is properly in the relegation fight. They may have points and games on the teams below them, but the form is with Norwich and Newcastle, and both teams are a lot further on with their midseason rebuild. Whatever Lampard is going to do, he needs to get doing it. Quickly. Or the stuff that will happen won't be pretty.
IN OTHER NEWS
All nutmegs are cheeky. It is in their nature. But some transcend that cheekiness and become specific and particular acts of humiliation, moments in which the entire stadium falls silent and time slows right down and a single spotlight comes from the sky and the defender, the poor defender, is left utterly alone and exposed. They are cruel, they are beautiful in their cruelty. One of them happened yesterday.
RETRO CORNER
Can you have a Retro Corner featuring a player that's still playing? We're saying yes, for two reasons. One, time moves through football in strange and unpredictable ways. The fact that birthday boy Radamel Falcao is still going, having been into his slump and out again, only makes those happy long-haired days with Atlético Madrid feel farther away. Conjunction heightens contrast.
The second reason? It's that we're in charge here. And if we want to watch ten minutes of Falcao, then we will.
HAT TIP
Enjoyed this from Ian King over on Football365: thinking about the present status of the Club World Cup by looking through its past, and then wondering about its future. A happier footballing calendar might have time and space for the competition, which is a pretty cute idea, to work properly, with complete buy-in from everybody. Alas, alack, and so on.
But the difference in resources between European and South American clubs has never been starker. South American sides won the World Club Championship in 2000 and the first two Club World Cups in 2004 and 2005, but the Corinthians win in 2012 has been the only one since and no South American team from anywhere apart from Brazil has ever won it. The absolute dominance of European teams over the decade since leads to the obvious conclusion that there might not even be any need for a world club champion to be determined, but would there be another way of determining it that could catch hold in Europe?
COMING UP
This week's chosen crisis club Leicester City go to Anfield, which honestly seems like a terrible idea. Wolves host Arsenal, which is going to be a 1-0 that feels like a 0-0. And there's cup action in Spain, Italy and France.
Also: Olympics! All over discovery+.
Stuff keeps happening, and so does Andi Thomas, who will be here tomorrow. That sounded a bit like a threat, didn't it? It was.
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