-A pretty entertaining and interesting article from
soccernet.com. I love the descriptions and the comments made by the columnist.
Sharing the Burden
by Phil Ball
Whilst the Athletic Bilbao v Real Madrid match last Saturday night produced a predictable result (Athletic won), the game threw up some interesting statistics.
Urzaiz: An ariete who has been showing signs of being a buitre (JohnWalton/Empics) Santi Esquerro, the forward whose powerful header won the game for the Basques, was celebrating his first goal for the club in seven months of honest toil, and Raúl, a rather better-known forward, scored his first in the league for six months - the last time he hit the net having been in Bilbao last March, curiously enough.
The other goal was scored by Ismael Urzaiz, a burly centre-forward of the old school, a player who looks like he's stepped out of some flickering sepia film from the pre-television days - all beef and brawn and nothing fancy.
Urzaiz actually scored the goal with his foot when Raúl Bravo, allegedly a defender for Madrid, completely missed the flight of a cross from the left intended for big Ismael. It never looks quite right when this sort of player scores with his feet (it was his second such effort in five days), and it set me thinking about the whole concept of the goalscorer, and how the Spanish both view and define the phenomenon.
The Spanish have three terms for a goalscorer. The most neutral is
delantero centro which simply means 'centre-forward'. The term tells you nothing about the style of the player, but merely indicates that his general function is to hang around up front. He's probably big, but not necessarily. The term which implies physical size is ariete, which translates as 'striker', or 'target-man'.
The other type of goalscorer is the
buitre - literally a vulture, but which translates fairly comfortably into English as 'poacher', the six-yard man whose instincts always permit him to be in the right place at the right time. Urzaiz is an
ariete, as is Madrid's Morientes, Osasuna's Aloisi, Real Sociedad's Kovacevic, Salva at Atlético Madrid, Deportivo's Pandiani and so on.
The
buitres are a rarer breed, personified in the past by Butragueño and Hugo Sánchez, but in the current league perhaps only represented by Henrik Larsson and Michael Owen, both recent imports. The
'delantero centro' is a rather more complex model, and forms the focus for this week's Spanish chit-chat.
This is because the more ambiguous the role of the forward, the more successful the team seems to be, at least in Spain these days.
A good example of this is Real Sociedad. They're the side I get to watch the most of in La Liga, since they play in my home from home, San Sebastián.
For three of the last four seasons the team has flirted with relegation, with a mysterious but wonderful runners-up year slotted in-between. They're bottom of the pile again, having lost to Sevilla at the weekend. The local paper, for whom I occasionally write, publish agonised articles on a daily basis from journalists attempting to get to the bottom of the matter.
The theories point the finger at the usual suspects - poor defence, lack of bite in midfield, general lack of aggression and concentration in some of the players...and so on and so forth. The journalists also bemoan a lack of clinical finishing, a feature classically associated with struggling sides.
Successful sides always build from the back, but when it comes to failure, most analysts look at the blanks being fired by the forward line. Sociedad have a big ariete called Darko Kovacevic who has scored over 80 league goals in six seasons for the club - not a bad tally. The little Turk Nihat plays in the hole behind him, and between them they're supposed to carry the goalscoring weight. But they've dried up.
Kovacevic, particularly, appears weekly in the newspaper telling some local journalist that 'It's just a matter of time' and that he's not over-concerned with the drought. What's more important is his general contribution to the team's play - which is what strikers always say when they're not scoring.
And yet no-one in the city seems to be aware of the real problem, which is that Sociedad's whole strategy is to get the ball down the flanks and haul it across to Kovacevic, in the vague hope that he'll connect. But he rarely does, because the crosses are often poor and the opposing defenders soon learn how to cut off the lines of communication.
So Kovacevic himself drops back into the hole, stumbles about doing things he doesn't really know how to do, whilst the managers shrug their shoulders and collect their severance pay. There's no Plan B. The team knows it has a recognised goalscorer, and so the only way to win is to supply him.
He's a local hero who cannot be dropped. The guy who plays behind him in the hole depends on rebounds and errors from the opposing defenders, rather than the build-up strategy of the midfielders behind him - if, that is - the team is only looking for the big man.