The one v one battle

In reading the earlier post on the Barcelona Youth Academy one little point struck me

"we want to be LESS aggressive, and still more skillful."

It got me thinking about our rewarding aggressive movements around the ball. It was interesting and surprising that the three best in the world this year were taught to be LESS aggressive , while we (here in this country) want more. (see my earlier post on how Barcelona grows talent). In many ways because they were taught under this philosophy they were allowed to flourish and thrive, and I am not the only coach who wonders if in our current system players like Xavi and Iniesta would ever have been given the chance to develop.

There is an old saying "never wrestle with a pig, you will only get dirty and the pig enjoys it."

A famous Brazilian coach once said that most of the rest of the world uses military analogies to describe tactics: flank, attack, destroy, defend, battle, shoot, Brazilian coaches favor more artistic and stylized analogies, create, imagine, rhythm, beauty.

The definition of technique under Brazilian methodology: "completing a task as fast as possible with as little effort as possible."

In soccer you want the kids to want the ball. Those kids that go for the loose ball, that dribble at the goal and take chances. You want them active. But coaches will often ask for and reward aggression encouraging a constant turnover game. In girls soccer especially this has become a huge tactic.

I was coaching the State Womens Select team. At tryouts a highly rated player could not directly beat anyone on one on one dribble challenges, but she was able to win them. She had no moves, she was rough with the ball, so she would take the ball uncomfortably up to the defending player and let them have it. When the defender tried to dribble past her she would counter with a ferocious tackle and come away with the ball easily moving forward. Her best play on the ball was to give it away and then go win it back. While this worked for her, it was really complicated and a lot of work. It was not simple. And it was indicative of the system she was brought up in. Where the ball is always loose, winning the ball back becomes important.

We are developing a generation of these types of players. Players that crash into each other, and if they are not the coaches and parents are calling for it!

Barcelona's attitude is more than just clean soccer, it is a way of life and teaching. Barcelona was able to develop players because of a singular belief in the philosophy of Cruyff and that it's important to stick with it long term. Cruyffian Ideas like the "most difficult thing is to play simple," becomes more than a silly saying, it becomes a call to action. Keep working on our technique! more, use technique, get it done simply. If you have the ball then, well, you don't have to fight for it.

When there are no fights the big kids don't always win. More kids are encouraged to develop.

When skillful teams can get drawn into these kinds of games, they spend all their effort fighting for the ball, meanwhile the other team, like the pig, is enjoying this, after all that's waht they do game after game.

Working out the problem of winning the 1 v 1?

1. Figure out what you believe and commit to it long term. What are they traits you want in a player? Creative, assertive, problem solvers. Start with the idea and dream it possible. Then get to work.

2. Encourage effort directed more clearly at solving the problem of winning the ball back. Battling through a one on one challenge is important at the college level, but while the kids are learning they should be taught other ways around the aggresive ball attack. Can they artfully skip away (taught in Brazil in technical train phase called 'Anticipation'), can they Get the job done cleanly and quickly, elegantly solutions to the right questions.

3. Build comfort on the ball as a part of keeping it. comfort dribbling on the attack, and clean and inventive ways to dispossess with as little effort as possible. Put them in situations where these skills are needed, tight spaces, low emotional pressure with encouragment to try things.


Repeat a million times!


So don't fight, but get the job done, keep it simple and never wrestle with a Pig.

TK

How Barcelona grows talent

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1265747/Inside-FC-Barcelonas-football-academy-churning-future-Messis--free.html#ixzz19Yu6xasW

A league of their own: inside FC Barcelona's football academy, churning out future Messis...for free

By Rob Draper

Last updated at 10:00 PM on 17th April 2010

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Chelsea, Manchester United and the other top English clubs have spent hundreds of millions of pounds on transfer fees for the world's best players in the hope of buying success. But the best team in the world rely on a set of homegrown players who cost nothing to buy. Rob Draper reports on Barcelona's youth academy, which is running rings around England's best teams

Xavi Hernandez, Lionel Messi and Andres Iniesta were shortlisted as amongst the best five players in the world. They were products of La Cantera, Barcelona's youth academy

It is a crisp, sunny, spring morning in Barcelona at the Joan Gamper training ground, where the football pitches are hemmed in by the foothills of the Pyrenees on three sides, and a less inspiring six-lane motorway on the other. Elegantly-dressed parents in Ray-Ban sunglasses have gathered to watch a seven-a-side match. They look totally engaged, while their toddlers play near the touchline and one boy's bored sister looks on.

'Va Adri!' ('Come on, Adri') shouts a mother in Catalan, as a waif of a boy, eight years old but looking a year younger, drops his shoulder, fools his considerably larger and taller opponent with an effortless trick, and glides past him, before coolly ending his elegant run with a delightful finish.

The goal is greeted by understated high-fives among his eight-year-old team-mates, most of whom are equally small. In fact it's the parents who are more excited, starting up a spirited rendition of Barcelona's official club anthem, while the boys simply jog back obediently to the centre circle. The restraint, the absence of conceit in those so young and potentially excitable, is positively Victorian.

But then this is what these boys are trained to do. They grace the pitch with almost balletic quality, constantly creating space to receive the ball, which is nursed, one to another, with unerring accuracy. The opposition, FC Viladecans, are little more than victims. They keep the score down to 4-1 but are barely permitted a touch of the ball in the second half.

Anyone who saw how FC Barcelona dismantled Manchester United in last year's Champions League final, or Arsenal earlier this month, by simply passing the ball around them, would be familiar with the style. As an amazed Theo Walcott put it, 'It was like someone was holding a PlayStation controller and moving the figures around.'

Cesc Fabregas playing for the Barcelona youth team against Athletico Bilbao in 2003

When the misery is over for FC Viladecans, the victorious boys dutifully shake hands before very sweetly, yet slight bizarrely, trooping over to the group of parents, acknowledging them at a distance by applauding them, arms above their heads, just as their adult counterparts do to the 90,000 fans who watch the first team at the Nou Camp stadium.

Yet they are not reunited with their parents yet. They return to their coaches for a post-match debrief and then there are the post-match interviews with a journalist. (There are two live commentaries on this game for the club's website and three television cameras present for what is just a routine match.)

Only after they have collected all the kit, returned to the dressing room and changed are they allowed to engage with their parents and siblings. Then the transformation is striking. Suddenly they are normal eight-year-old children again, darting around in uncontrollable fashion, playing their own games, making their own jokes.

In a decade two or three of these boys will be making more money in a year than most people can expect to make in a lifetime. They are a truly gilded elite.

These boys, all clad in the famous maroon and blue colours of FC Barcelona, are part of the world's most successful production line of world-class footballers.

This is the Sunday-morning match day at Barcelona's youth academy, which in Spanish goes by the poetic name of 'La Cantera', meaning the quarry.

To be invited to join La Cantera is to be given an extraordinary opportunity in life. When Fifa, the international body that governs football, recently shortlisted the best five players in the world, three of them were products of La Cantera: Andres Iniesta, Leo Messi and Xavi.

Cesc Fabregas, Arsenal's biggest star and among the Premier League's best players, was also nurtured here and plucked away by English scouts at the age of 16. Pepe Reina, Liverpool's highly rated goalkeeper, and Mikel Arteta, the Everton midfielder, are old boys; and Barcelona's club team manager, Pep Guardiola, one of the finest midfielders and now managers of his generation, also came through this academy, as did all his managerial assistants. This is a 'factory' for world-class footballers and it is currently at the peak of its powers.

But this academy aims to shape the boys' values as well as their football skills, a holistic approach reminiscent of the Jesuit maxim: 'Give me the boy and I will give you the man.'

Barcelona are indisputably the best football club in the world at present. Last year they won every trophy they competed for, six in all, including the Spanish League title and the World Club Cup, and the Champions League on a memorable night in Rome when a formidable Manchester United team were made to look like footballing infants.

Yet what was more remarkable was that seven of the team that started against Manchester United were products of La Cantera: goalkeeper Victor Valdes, defenders Carles Puyol and Gerard Pique, midfielders Sergio Busquets, Xavi, Iniesta and the forward Messi, who scored four goals in the recent game against Arsenal and is currently ranked the best in the world. Several will go on to represent Spain in this year's World Cup, a tournament they are favourites to win. Perhaps the nation's biggest obstacle in South Africa will be Messi, who is tipped by many to revive memories of Maradona at his best when he plays for Argentina this summer.

The FC Barcelona youth team in 1999, including Cesc Fabregas (bottom left) and Gerard Pique (top second left)

In the age of Ronaldo's £80 million transfer from Manchester to Madrid and the complex transcontinental trades of 16-year-olds, Barcelona have been a counter-cultural force in world football. While English Premier League football clubs spent much of the past decade splashing their borrowed cash to sign up millionaire star players, or poaching teenage boys, like Fabregas, from the youth academies of the clubs that did produce good young players, Barcelona were quietly growing their own team, the majority of whom cost not a euro in transfer fees.

A few miles from the training ground and overshadowed by the enormous Nou Camp stadium is a delightful 18th-century farmhouse. Built in 1702 and sitting rather incongruously among the constant noise and clamour of one of the busier districts of the city, it is known as La Masia.

FC Barcelona converted this ornate building into a boarding house in 1979 to accommodate the older boys on their youth programme. Outsiders are not usually permitted inside what is seen as a private place, where the future of the club is being nurtured and the football club is in loco parentis.

From the age of 13 or 14, boys who live outside the city are housed here, letting the club mould their futures more fully, and ensuring their training time is not interrupted by debilitating travel to and from the ground. Typically the 14 year-old boys will train for six hours a week and play a game of 90 minutes.

But crucially it allows the club to develop not just their football skills but their lifestyle and attitudes, preaching the virtues of healthy eating and early nights. The boys live, sleep and eat together at La Masia, housed in bunk-bed dormitories. They eat communally in a stylish refectory with period chandeliers. They do their homework in a spacious library and have a games room with table football, pool and PlayStations.

It resembles a rather charming youth hostel, but this type of education remains an alien concept to most Premier League clubs, none of which has a residential academy on the scale of La Masia.

The 90,000-seater Nou Camp stadium and (ringed) La Masia, home of Barcelona's 'La Cantera' academy

Each morning the boys are bussed in to the best local schools. The importance of finishing their education is constantly impressed on them by the club, though the lessons are all in Catalan, a language that will at first be unfamiliar to boys from outside the region. They return at 2pm for lunch and siesta, with training from 5pm to 6.30pm, then homework with private tutors on hand to help. After dinner there is a short period of down time before bed.

'We train the youngsters to be good people with a healthy lifestyle and help them to be happy with their way of life,' says Albert Capellas, the club's senior youth coordinator. 'It's very important for us that the boys have respect for others. They have to be good people, like gentlemen.'

It's no surprise that some, especially Barcelona's bitter rivals Real Madrid, sense a certain smugness about the club - even the football coaching here comes with a moral edge.

'When they play matches we impress on the boys three objectives,' says Capellas. 'Firstly, they must be the more sporting team, committing fewer fouls and being less aggressive. Then they must try to win by playing very well, more creatively than the opposition, with attacking football. And finally they need to win on the scoreboard. But we don't want to win without the first two aims being fulfilled.'

Liverpool goalkeeper Reina went to live in La Masia at the age of 13.

'They say that they don't just grow you as a footballer at La Masia but also as a person and it's true,' he says. 'You can learn to respect others and also to sharpen up your ideas. I grew up much more quickly there.'

It is not without its melodrama though. For 13-year-old boys prised from the bosom of their family, the induction can be traumatic yet bonding.

Everton midfielder Arteta was one of Reina's great friends at La Masia and had left behind his parents and five brothers in the Basque country to pursue the dream of making a career as a professional footballer at the age of 15.

'I missed my parents and brothers enormously and there were many nights when I cried myself to sleep because of homesickness,' he says.

Iniesta was fast-tracked to La Masia at the age of 12 because of his exceptional talent, moving from his village of Fuentealbilla in central Spain. Coaches still remember the trauma every Sunday when his parents, José Antonio and Maria, would go back home for the week having spent the weekend with their son.

'He was very close to his family and every goodbye each weekend would become a mini-drama,' remembers Albert Benaiges, the coach who would become like a godfather to the young Iniesta.

'Andres would be crying and he spent a lot of time at my house, and whenever my mother sees him smiling now she always makes a joke, because she remembers how much he suffered in those days.'

When it all became too much there was always a very visible reminder of why the sacrifices were being made.

'You would look out and there was the Nou Camp stadium opposite,' remembers Iniesta. 'It was always on your mind, that the goal was to play there.'

The intense experiences shared in youth create lifelong bonds. Among the teenage contemporaries of current manager Guardiola, who arrived at La Masia aged 13, were Tito Vilanova and Aureli Altamira, who are now his managerial assistants at the club.

Arsenal's Fabregas, who came here when he was 15 because travelling from his village in Arenys de Mar back and forth to training had become too much of a strain, agrees.

'It was the best year of my life and I made friends for life there,' he remembers.

Among them was a timid and tiny Argentinian boy who spent the first few days cowering in the corner, speaking to no one. His name? Leo Messi.

'La Masia is like a family,' says Capellas. 'We take a lot of care of our young players, as they are living without their parents. We make sure they celebrate all the festivals, like Christmas, and every boy's birthday, like a family.'

The late Sir Bobby Robson, Barcelona manager in the Nineties, sings carols at La Masia with players including the young Iniesta (second left) and Pepe Reina (next to Robson)

Messi, the world's best player, is the current star product of La Cantera. He arrived here from Argentina when he was 13 with his family in tow after no Argentinian club would pay for the drugs he needed to treat his growth deformity. It is no surprise that Barcelona took on Messi, despite the fact he was half a foot shorter than his peers. Unlike in England, where size, strength and the ability to throw your weight around is highly prized by many scouts, Barcelona apply different criteria.

'Size is not important,' says Capellas. 'Most important is that the player has talent, that they can play with the ball, not that they are the strongest or tallest.'

But what distinguishes Barcelona from almost all English clubs is that home-produced players make up the bulk of their team, a concept many English clubs have actively opposed. They prefer to trade teenagers from around the world than produce their own.

'The model of FC Barcelona is that 50 per cent of our team should be from La Cantera and then 35 per cent should be the best players from Spain or Europe and then 15 per cent from the top ten players in the world, players like Samuel Eto'o, Zlatan Ibrahimovic or Thierry Henry,' says Capellas, though La Cantera is now so successful it is also producing players who are among the top ten in the world.

With the honourable exceptions of Middlesbrough, who once fielded a Premier League squad with 15 of the 16 players raised by the club and born within 25 miles of the stadium, and West Ham, who have produced almost half of the current England national team, no Premier League club currently aspires to Barcelona's goal.

Manchester United were once standard bearers in this regard, and the team that won the 1999 Champions League had echoes of Barcelona's vision. Gary Neville, Ryan Giggs, Nicky Butt, Paul Scholes and David Beckham were all prodigies of their youth team, four of them from the Greater Manchester area, but since then United have directed their energy into recruiting youngsters from around the world, preferring to raid foreign youth academies. They took Gerard Pique from Barcelona at the age of 16, which, under EU and football rules, they can do legally while paying only tiny amounts of compensation to the club that coached them.

There are some mitigating circumstances as to why Barcelona can build a team so successfully and their English counterparts cannot. Premier League clubs are now bound by strict rules meaning they can only recruit boys whose journey to their training ground is 90 minutes or less.

Nevertheless, of the seven players from La Cantera who won the Champions League final in Rome, five were born in Catalonia and so would be eligible under Premier League rules. Other priorities differ markedly from the English way. At the age of eight, says Capellas, the coaching emphasis is both on mastering control of the ball and the need to understand tactics.

Youth players practice in the grounds of La Masia

'From the age of seven to the age of 15 everything is about working with the football,' says Capellas.

'With the very small boys, the most important thing is to control the ball very well, to have the ability to run with the ball and to think very quickly and execute their passes very well. We spend so much time on passing and on tactics, to understand our style of play, which is the same from the eight-year-olds to the first team.'

Over in England, talk of tactics is not introduced at such an early age. Also, while FA rules prevent Premier League clubs from having feeder teams in other domestic leagues, Barcelona run a reserve team, Barca Athletic, in the Spanish equivalent of the lower division. Many of the players remain at La Masia, which means the club can continue to develop young players between the ages of 18 and 21 in a controlled environment when they are most likely to be tempted by late nights and excess.

Periodically there are calls to reform our academy system. Over the years the emphasis has switched from the traditional physical strength of English football to the development of skills. David Beckham set up academies around the world that promised to teach youngsters, but five years on, those in London and Los Angeles are closing down.

Trevor Brooking, FA director of football development, wrote last year: 'We must all accept that for a country of some 60 million people, we are not producing the depth of players at the top level with the technical skills now required by the major clubs and international teams. If we want to increase the number of English players competing at the highest level, radical change is needed.'

But vested interests mean progress is slow. The Premier League will never allow the FA to coach youngsters they wish to control; the Football League clubs will not allow Premier League clubs to recruit players on their patch and potentially deny them a lucrative transfer fee for a talented youngster. It was this infighting, it is said, that dismayed England manager Fabio Capello when he was incorporated into the FA's youth development planning but attended just two meetings.

The fact that Messi, Iniesta, Xavi and Fabregas all exhibit the same exquisite control of the ball and a style of passing that might have been cloned suggests that Barcelona have not simply been fortunate to inherit a golden generation of players, as some have suggested.

'It's not luck,' insists Capellas. 'It's work. It's our model, which has been honed over many years by lots of people providing specialist skills and all working in the same direction, with the same objective: to prepare players for the first team.'

Visit Barcelona at the end of September and you will find a city celebrating its patron saint, the Virgin de la Mercè. And at the Plaza Jaume, in the picturesque Gothic quarter, you will see an extraordinary spectacle: towers of men, women and children standing on each other's shoulders, reaching maybe 30ft off the ground. The foundation will be made up of a huddle of perhaps 20 people, while standing on their shoulders will be another 15, four of five layers stretching up to the top, where a single child completes what the Catalans call a human castle.

'This is very important for your article,' says Capellas as I leave. 'You need to mention this,' he adds with a demonstrative flourish.

'Our Catalan castles always have a strong base. You need to have everyone in the right position, and you can't get someone to the top of the castle without the correct foundations. But you must always have a strong base because without that you have nothing.'

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1265747/Inside-FC-Barcelonas-football-academy-churning-future-Messis--free.html#ixzz19YqPpgJ3

Grow Your Brain with Futsal: An Interview with Daniel Coyle

By Anna Edgerton

BERKELEY, Calif. (5-20-10) – The number one question for any coach is how to cultivate the best players possible without killing the love of the game. How do you design a practice that develops talent, simulates real game situations, and gets everyone involved? To find out I asked Daniel Coyle, author of The Talent Code, who argues that it is actually possible to “grow” talent. For those soccer coaches whose players were probably not kicking in the womb, this is excellent news.

(Daniel Coyle.)

For Coyle, Futsal is the “perfectly designed game” to develop soccer talent. Many of us Futsal aficionados could have told you that already, but in The Talent Code, Coyle presents both scientific and empirical research to confirm our enthusiasm for soccer’s smaller sister. In this book he explores the idea of “deep practice” and the effect that constant repetition has on the neurological development of an athlete or artist. Without getting too deep into the science side of the story, it turns out that through constant repetition one can actually grow a kind of insulation called myelin around connections in the brain to make them fire faster.

When I suggested to Coyle that repetition in practice also develops muscle memory, he claimed that physically there’s no such thing. “Muscles are actually really dumb,” he pointed out. “Muscles are like the wooden part of the puppet. The action is with the strings.” These “strings” are the connections in the brain, and the faster information travels through them, the better you perform. More of the right kind of practice means more myelin to transmit neurological signals even faster.

For a soccer coach, this is where Futsal comes in. According to Coyle, there are many qualities of Futsal that make it the perfect tool for deep practice—and developing that all-important myelin. Because it is played on a smaller scale, with fewer players and a ball that has 30% less bounce, it naturally provides players with “perfect feedback and lots of quality reps.” Although the fundamentals are the same, the significant differences between Futsal and outdoor soccer make it the ideal setting for maximum learning with minimal coaching.

To illustrate this point, Coyle cited the example of board sports—skateboarding, surfing, snowboarding—because there is no coach to explain how to get it right. People learn these sports by repetition, by figuring out what works and what doesn’t, so that “the sport teaches you what to do.” This makes the learning process much more meaningful, because every mistake becomes a teaching moment and every success builds “a pokerhand of possibilities” to use in the future. Add to this the intensity and competition of Futsal, and you have the perfect training tool for building a better soccer player.

For example, consider the depth of soccer talent and range of ball-handling creativity that comes out of Brazil. It’s no coincidence that almost all Brazilian youth play Futsal for years before they ever touch an outdoor ball. For one, there is less space required for a Futsal court than for a soccer field, and organizing a game is “cheaper, faster and easier.” According to Coyle, it’s “the perfect confluence of circumstance and culture” in Brazil that makes Futsal the norm for young players, resulting in some of the best professionals in the world. In the first chapter of his book Coyle says, “since the 1950s Brazilian players have trained in a particular way, with a particular tool that improves ball-handling skill faster than anywhere else in the world.” That tool is, of course, Futsal.

(Kids playing Futsal in Brazil.)

Although this sport is rapidly gaining popularity in its own right on an international scale, like all things soccer, it is slower to catch on in the United States where coaches are used to sculpting players with drills and conditioning. However, Coyle argues that “the sport sells itself.” After investigating the Brazilian scene, he brought a few Futsal balls back the United States and “just threw them into the high school pick up games. The kids loved it.” Because it’s basically condensed play, which is the best kind of deep practice, anyone who enjoys soccer will be a lot more enthusiastic about playing Futsal than running suicides down eternal lines of cones. Not to mention, Futsal will grow your brain. Talk about the perfect sport!

For more information on Futsal as “deep practice” and The Talent Code, see Daniel Coyle’s website at: thetalentcode.com

Predicting success in football and teaching: newyorker.com

Read this, then imagine running a club and cutting 11 year olds at tryouts...

Predicting success in football and teaching: newyorker.com

Get off your butt

Epigenetics and why you it's important that YOU get out and play. The Sins Of The Father . . . DAVID EPSTEIN, SI May 17, 2010

LISTEN UP, COUCH POTATOES: ACCORDING TO THE SCIENCE OF EPIGENETICS, HOW PARENTS ACT INFLUENCES THE BEHAVIOR OF THE GENES THEIR CHILDREN INHERIT

You had the talent to be a sports star, but you lacked the discipline. You couldn't bring yourself to go to bed early or pick up a barbell instead of an Oreo. On the bright side, your kid gets to start from square one: He or she inherits your talent but not the repercussions of your lackluster approach.

Or maybe not. Research in the growing science of epigenetics—which, among other things, looks at how genes can be switched on and off—suggests that your actions could have genetics-related consequences for your child. Better think twice before pounding down that next cookie.

At the turn of the 19th century, French naturalist Jean-Baptiste Lamarck proposed a theory of evolution that said animals quickly adapt to their environment and pass the adaptations along to their progeny; for example, giraffes acquired long necks because their ancestors stretched to reach leaves high on trees. But Lamarckian evolution was eclipsed in 1859 when Charles Darwin published his theory of evolution by natural selection, which says traits are acquired over millions of years as random genetic changes that happen to be beneficial are passed on. Today, however, the idea at the heart of Lamarck's theory—that our choices can affect our children's genes—is making a comeback.

Your behavior will not change the sequence of your child's DNA, but it might change the action of certain molecules—called epigenetic marks—that attach to DNA and signal genes to turn on and off. Consider a study, published in 2008, of adults in the Netherlands whose mothers had suffered through a German-imposed food embargo in the winter of 1944--45. Six decades later, those whose mothers were in the early stages of pregnancy during the Dutch Hunger Winter had fewer "turn off" signaling methyl molecules attached to their IGF2 genes than did their siblings. The IGF2 gene is a key component in growth and development, and the study may help explain why children of mothers who experience famine during pregnancy have a higher risk of developing obesity, schizophrenia and diabetes later in life.

Studies now under way should further illuminate the epigenetic link to sports prowess. In one study published last year, rats that exercised regularly and rats that didn't were twice thrown into beakers of water. On the first go-round, all the rats struggled vigorously to swim and attempt to escape the beaker. A day later, when they were again put into the water, the regularly exercised rats displayed better stress-coping mechanisms: Instead of clawing at a glass wall they could not climb, these rats, having learned from the previous day's experience, conserved energy by floating. When their brains were examined afterward, researchers found that the exercised rats had altered epigenetic marks that in turn affected gene expression in a part of the brain that helps form memories. "Exercise has a great impact on the brain, not just the muscles," says Johannes Reul, one of the researchers and a neuroscientist at the University of Bristol, England.

Perhaps one day a similar epigenetic explanation of memory will help us understand why great cornerbacks don't get beat the same way twice.

Read more: http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1169443/index.htm#ixzz17lbSbpWO

From 4-4-2, The Talent Myth

This article appeared in the December 2010 issue of FourFourTwo magazine.

THINK the world's best footballers are born rather than made? Matthew Syed, three-time Commonwealth table-tennis champion and author of an acclaimed book on talent, Bounce, begs to differ.

You only have to compare a Sunday league game with a Champions League tussle at the Nou Camp or Old Trafford to see the importance of natural ability in football. At the local park, you see players trying awfully hard, chasing around the pitch and even nailing the occasional long pass, but you see little of thrilling quality.

In the top European leagues – particularly among the best clubs – you see something quite different: touch, feel, finesse, vision, the ability to hit an inch-perfect pass across the field into the path of an team-mate. These are the things that elevate football, to those of us who love the sport, into something approaching an art form, like chess played at speed.

Talent is the word we use to rationalise this schism between the best and the rest: the idea that sporting stars are born with greatness encoded in their DNA. How else to explain how Lionel Messi can perform with such creativity? How else to explain the sublime consistency of Paul Scholes? How else to understand the sheer accuracy of David Beckham’s free-kicks?

It boils down to the idea that sporting excellence is reserved for a select group of individuals – winners in a genetic lottery that passed the rest of us by.

But what if this seductive idea is all wrong? What if our deepest assumptions about success in football – indeed, in life itself – are entirely misconceived? What if talent itself is not just a meaningless concept, but a corrosive one, robbing ourselves and our children of the incentive to work hard and excel?

"It is practice, not talent that is driving patterns of success and failure"

I first started asking these questions when examining my own journey in table tennis. It was a journey that took me from suburban Reading to the top of the podium at three Commonwealth Championships. Like most high achievers I put it down to god-given talent; to things like speed, guile, adaptability, agility and reflexes. Sometimes I would marvel that I had these skills in such abundance that they were capable of elevating me beyond hundreds of thousands of others aspiring to that precious top spot.

But could it be that my success was not about talent at all, but simply about hard work and opportunity? Could it be that expertise in football and table tennis, or indeed anything else in life or sport, is a consequence not of innate skill but of thousands of hours of practice? Could it be that all of us have the potential to stride the path to excellence?

After all, what is talent? We all think we know it when we see it. As a coach at a leading football academy told me: “Any decent coach can spot a talented player. It is something about the way they move, the way they cushion the ball, the way they see the opportunities around them. When they have all that, you just know in your guts that they have the potential to make it to a professional level.”

But how does the coach know that this player, who looks so gifted, hasn’t had many hours of special training behind the scenes? How does he know that the initial differences in ability between this youngster and the rest will persist over years of practice? In fact, he doesn’t, as several studies have demonstrated.

A ground-breaking investigation of British musicians, for example, found that the top performers had learned no faster than those who reached lower levels of attainment: hour after hour, the various groups had improved at almost identical rates. The difference was simply that top performers had practised for more hours. Further research has shown that when top performers seem to possess an early gift for music, it is often because they have been given extra tuition at home by their parents.

Not convinced? Then consider the remarkable bias in the birth dates among top players
in various sports, something discussed by Malcolm Gladwell, the American author.
At one point in the Premier League in the 1990s, for example, there were 288 players born between September and November, but only 136 between June and August.

Why is this? If success in football is all about having the right genes, are we to infer that individuals born towards the start of the year are more talented than those born in the latter half of the calendar? Or, could this bias be caused by something quite different?

In fact, the answer is quite simple. The eligibility cut-off for youth football in England is September 1. This means that a player who turns, say, 11 on September 2 could be playing alongside a player who is almost 12 months younger. This represents a big difference in physical maturity at such a young age. Coaches respond by picking the older boy for the first team, not because he is a more skilful player, but because he is a little older.

But this means that the older boy gets access to more and better training sessions, he plays in more matches, he works with better coaches. Within a few years, a large gap in skill has opened up between the two players – not because the older boy is “more talented”, but because he has had more training because of an arbitrary cut off date for age-eligibility. To put it another way, it is practice, not talent, that is driving patterns of success and failure.

In international football, where the cut-off date used to be August 1, one recent junior world championship boasted 135 players who were born in the three months born after August 1 and just 22 born in May, June and July. Today the cut-off date for international junior soccer is January 1. In the Czech national junior football team of 2007, an astonishing 19 of the 21 players were born between January and June. None were born in the last three months of the year.

Of course, adherents to the talent myth will dismiss these statistics. They will point to child prodigies – boys and girls who reach world-class levels of performance in their teens – as proof of the importance of talent. Surely these youthful performers have been blessed with amazing skills; skills that have enabled them to take a shortcut to eminence? Or have they? A closer inspection reveals a very different story.

“Success is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice and love of what you are doing”

Tiger Woods was considered a miracle golfer when he became the youngest winner of the US Masters in 1997. “The most talented player of all time,” was the assessment of one pundit. But now consider that Woods was given a golf club five days before his first birthday; that by the age of two he played his first round of golf; that by five he had accumulated more hours
of practice than most of us achieve in a lifetime. Far from being a golfer zapped with special powers that enabled him to circumvent practice, Woods is someone who embodies the rigours of practice.

Precisely the insight that applies to Messi, Beckham and all the other top footballers who seem to have got to the top in double-quick time, as a quick glance at their autobiographies demonstrate. Beckham, for example, would take a football to a park in East London as a young child and kick it from precisely the same spot for hour upon hour. “His dedication was breathtaking,” his father has said. “Sometimes it seemed that he lived on the local field.”

Beckham’s dedication has never wavered. Describing his work ethic in 1994, two years after his Manchester United debut, Sir Alex Ferguson was almost breathless in admiration: “He watches the senior players, practises all the time, his quality in the use of the ball is fabulous, and he works all the time on his technique.’ Similar eulogies have been made by team-mates at Real Madrid, AC Milan and LA Galaxy.

Take any top footballer and the same story just keeps repeating itself. Here is Messi: “With hard work, anything is possible. I can assure you that you can dream and that dream can
be achieved.” Here is Pele: “Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice and most of all, love of what you are doing or learning to do.”

Cristiano Ronaldo, another of the world’s top players, completes the picture. When Jose Mourinho joined Real Madrid he was astounded by the work ethic of the winger. “He has an amazing way of working,” Mourinho said. “After seeing it up close, it is impressive for a player with the status he has that no-one works harder than him. Because of the way he works, it is easy to demand from others what I want in regard to the dedication to work.” And so it goes on.

The illusion of talent arises because we only see a tiny proportion of the work that goes into the construction of virtuosity. If we were to examine the incalculable hours of practice, the many years ingraining excellence, the thousands of baby steps taken by world-class performers to get to the top, the skills would not seem quite so mystical, or so inborn.

“The idea that skill hinges on practice rather than talent makes a mockery of the way coaches think about success”

Extensive research has shown that there is not a single top performer in any complex task who has bypassed the 10 years of hard work necessary to reach the top. As Beckham put it: “My secret is practice. I’ve always believed that if you want to achieve anything special in life you have to work, work and then work some more.”

Of course, none of this is to deny that some kids start out better than others; it is merely to suggest that the starting point we all have in life is not particularly relevant. Why? Because over time, with the right kind of practice, we change so dramatically.

It’s not just the body that changes, but the anatomy of the brain. The region of the brain governing spatial navigation in taxi drivers is substantially larger than for non-taxi drivers, but it did not start out like this. Rather, it developed over time with years on the job. Similar results will doubtless be found when brain imaging tests are carried out on professional footballers.

It is not just the brute quantity of practice that matters, of course, but also the quality. A key question for coaches, then, is how to create drills that push performers beyond their existing limitations and thus unleash the forces of personal transformation. One way that has been tried and tested in football is futsal (short for ‘futebol de salao’).

Futsal is a bit like football, except it is compressed, compacted and distilled into a concentrated form. The ball is smaller and heavier, the theatre of space is shrunken relative to the wide open expanses of a conventional pitch. It is as if all the complex dynamics, competitive intensity and ferocious interaction of football have been packed into a nutshell.

What this means is that in futsal you touch the ball around six times more per minute than in normal football, and the smaller ball demands more precise handling. It rewards improvisation, creativity and technique; you can’t get out of a tight spot by just booting the ball downfield. As Dr Emilio Miranda, Professor of Soccer at the University of Sao Paolo, says: “No time plus no space equals better skills. Futsal is our national laboratory of improvisation.”

Almost all of the most revered Brazilian players were schooled in futsal. “Futsal was important in helping to develop my ball control, quick thinking and passing,” says Pele. “I played only futsal as a youngster,” says Zico, who scored 52 goals in 72 international matches for Brazil. “It’s the best start for kids.”

Ronaldo, the highest goal scorer in the history of the World Cup and one of only two men to have won FIFA World Player of the Year three times, says: “Futsal is how I really got started. This is my love, the thing that I enjoyed the most.” And Ronaldinho, one of the most creative players of his generation and twice World Player of the Year, agrees, saying: “When you come to play normal soccer, it’s easy if you’ve come from futsal.”

Of course, the idea that skill hinges on specialised practice rather than talent makes a mockery of the way most coaches think about success. The very idea that most boys can attain excellence is totally at odds with the assumption held by the establishment. It is a bit like the situation in the US where Billy Beane, general manager of the Oakland Athletics, overturned conventional wisdom in baseball by shifting the scouting of players onto their stats for on-base and slugging percentage rather than the usual indicators of speed and contact.

If you are still unconvinced by the power of practice, consider again my journey in table tennis. To many enthusiasts my skills seemed nothing less than a miracle. But was it?

When I hit the top of the England rankings, most of the other top players in the nation were not merely from the same town as me, but the very same street: Silverdale Road in Reading. Had some ping-pong virus spread through the area without touching the surrounding roads and villages? Of course not: the success was about the coming together of factors of a similar kind to those that have, from time to time, elevated other tiny places into the sporting ascendancy (Spartak, an impoverished Moscow tennis club, created more top 20 women players between 2005-2007 than the whole of the US).

In particular we all had access to a top coach (who happened to be a teacher at the local primary school) and to the only 24-hour-a-day club in the county. We started out as ordinary table tennis players but through a peculiar set of circumstances we were transformed into extraordinary players. The evidence is overwhelming: excellence in sport is not explained by talent, but by hard work, will and opportunity.

---

Person, player, team.

Kids come first, players come next. Player development is a fragile, careful, process of love and hope.

Early in his career, before he was established and just one of many trying to make it, I remember Thomas Rongen, the then US Men's U20 coach, saying "Dempsey would be good if I could just get him to stop trying to nutmeg Coby Jones." Even then, even as he tried out for the US Men's National Team, he just played while others competed.






From SI.Com,

Posted: Wednesday June 9, 2010

NACOGDOCHES, Texas -- Soccer makes Victor Rivera sick, and this is a man who once made sure that every minute he wasn't selling tacos he was coaching soccer, and when he wasn't coaching soccer he was watching it, and when he wasn't watching it he was playing it -- that is when his bones, lungs and middle-aged body would allow. But not now. These days there's only one condition when the sport doesn't hurt so much: when the boy he once affectionately called one of his bolillos (his white ones) takes the field -- something Clint Dempsey will do when the U.S. plays England on Saturday in the World Cup.

Dempsey bounced into Rivera's life and started raiding his fridge in 1995, not long after Rivera's teenage sons, Victor Jr. and Franky, moved 140 miles north of Houston from Chicago, where they had been living with their mom. "Are you going to make some chicken quesadillas, Pa," 12-year-old Clint would sometimes ask, peeking around the refrigerator door as Rivera returned home from a day's work at the family's taqueria. Clint had found a second home here, next to the expanse of grass where the boys dropped shoes and t-shirts as makeshift goals and played hours and hours of the beautiful game. So what if three tree stumps were in the middle of their field? They'd make them defenders.

While Clint dominated with his footwork, Victor Jr. countered with his speed. When Franky once slipped by Clint's little brother, Lance, for a game-winning goal, Clint turned around, pushed his brother and yelled, "Why did you let him score?" Rivera couldn't help but peek in on these games. Intense? Yes. Even with flip-flops on the grass as goal posts. But was it enough? He didn't think so. He'd grown up playing rough-and-tumble in his hometown of Zamora, Mexico, and knew that getting better meant getting beat -- and not just by each other. Thus began the remarkable journey in which a a kid from Naco-nowhere (the name some use to deride the East Texas town) would one day land on the game's biggest and grandest stage.

Dempsey grew up in a town in which the Hispanic immigrant kids would tell stories of men with fantastic names, like El Magico from El Salvador and Argentina's Maradona. When the East Texas sun beat the boys down on the pitch, they'd retreat to their friends' trailers to grab popsicles and wolf down Salvadoran pupusas. There they'd watch as their friends' fathers and uncles gathered 'round, beers in hands, screaming at a soccer game on the Spanish channel.

Dempsey's big brother, Ryan (five years his elder), pestered a family friend into letting him play on a team in a nearby Mexican League, and where Ryan went, Clint followed. He watched Ryan head in goals against men twice his age through the thick of smoke from the grills cooking fajitas. Fans lined the field, merchants, too, selling paletas from their hand-pushed carts with bells on them and horchata. "When you'd go to Mexican League it's not like you're just going to a game. It's like a party," Clint would later recall.

Organizers looking to build an offshoot of the Mexican League in Nacogdoches told Rivera, no. Absolutely not. Though they were looking for teams, he didn't need to bring a group of 14- and 15-year-old kids to play with the grown-ups. "Do you want to get them killed?" one organizer asked.

"Trust me," Rivera told them. "I know the kids and I know how they play. You're the ones who are going to get hurt."

He eventually recruited enough adults to please the organizers but was intent on getting Victor Jr. and Dempsey into games. They played at fields -- more like dirt plains interrupted by the thickets of grass -- with names like Under the Bridge, because of the South St. overpass in the distance, and Las Joyas (the Jewels), because the field had stadium lights that shined like diamonds in the Saturday night sky.

Victor Jr. and Dempsey had just started high school, and while they were skilled, they were going against men twice their age and some double their size. A handful had played in the Mexican professional ranks with teams like the Pumas in the Primera Division before injuries or economics sent them northbound, looking for work. They didn't know what to make of these boys and tip-toed around them that first game, even if the 6-0 drubbing that Victor Sr. recalls didn't reflect it.

The boys left the field downtrodden, discouraged. "You're learning, right?" Victor Sr. told his crew. "Remember that you're faster than them." Dempsey, unafraid, undaunted, ran the field, setting up plays he knew Victor Jr. would finish. Their team drew closer in the second game and lost the third by just one goal. It won the next game, and the next, and suddenly the opposition that once tiptoed around the boys pushed, elbowed and kicked them like they would've any other opponent. Except Dempsey. He had it worse.

"People went out to hurt him," says Alex Romero, an El Salvador player many around the league feel could have played on his country's national team if life had dealt him a different hand. Victor Jr. also flustered his opponents but scored with the straight speed. He may have scored on opponents but Dempsey embarrassed them, sometimes with a mean stepover and other moves he'd collected all those years watching Spanish-language soccer broadcasts with Ryan. Dempsey would score a goal and run around the perimeter of the field, looking at the fans, yelling "Whaaaaaaaaaat's uuuuuuuuuuup?"

His mother, Debbie, sat on the sidelines as he ran around in celebration, wishing under her breath, "Please, come back. Don't be doing that. You're going to be killed."

The more Dempsey dominated, the harder his opponents fouled him. Debbie, a nurse in Nacogdoches, had been called in to surgery occasionally when men with strips of cardboard tucked into their socks for shin guards ambled into the hospital with broken ankles and legs caused in the relentless league.

Over the years, she and her husband, Aubrey, a railroad worker, had scrimped to raise the thousands of dollars Clint needed to play in select soccer leagues 200 miles away in Dallas. They eventually bought a 16-foot-camper to nix the hotel bills they would have had to ring up staying in Dallas and all the other outposts where the select teams played. Debbie visited her loan officer so many times to squeeze out just a little ... bit ... more for Clint's uniforms and travel money that he began lecturing her on how to manage her money.

And after playing in Dallas all day in a traditional American select soccer system, Clint would dash off in the evening to play Mexican League, where opponents side tackled him -- cleats up -- and on at least one occasion spit in his face. "Why do you have to do all these fancy tricks," the man who spit asked Clint in Spanish. And if any player jumped up to fight Clint, Victor Jr., like always, was there to help.

Once Clint and Victor Jr. led Zamora to the Nacogdoches Mexican League's first championship, Debbie and Aubrey pulled the plug. "The next year they weren't going to let those 16-year-old boys win," Aubrey said. Besides, all the money and miles the Dempsey poured into showcasing Clint in the select leagues was starting to pay off. Letters from schools like Notre Dame, SMU and scores of others started crowding the mailbox. Did Clint really want to risk injury in a Mexican League game?

The boys had already steeled themselves the way Victor Sr. hoped. Now it was Clint recruiting Victor Jr. to play on his team in Dallas. Making the cutthroat club was no problem for Victor Jr., but making the payments was. Even a scholarship to defray the $2,000 or so in club fees wasn't enough to bridge the budget gap between what single-parent Victor Sr. wanted to do and was able to do. After just one year of club soccer -- the place where all the college coaches could see you -- Victor Jr. left the team.

"That killed my brother," Franky says. Victor Jr. made the best of it and joined an elite club in Nacogdoches, but college recruiters didn't travel that way. While Clint waded through offers from top Division I programs before deciding on Furman University, where the U.S.'s Under-20 player Ricardo Clark played, Victor, Jr., Nacogdoches High's leading scorer, was all talent and few offers. It looked like Division II Ouachita Baptist in Arkansas was his only way.

Clint would always tell his family that success is largely about being in the right place at the right time. Sometimes the inverse of that is true, too -- that tragedy is sometimes all about the wrong time, wrong place.

A U.S. National Team coach checking up on Clark at a Furman game couldn't help but notice the creative, innovative play of Dempsey. Shortly thereafter, Clint received a call-up to the U.S. National Team's U-20 team while Victor Jr. received a call of his own. Back to Nacogdoches. His girlfriend was pregnant. Clint then began running the baselines for the country while Victor Jr. left school to work the factory lines at Nibco, a Nacogdoches manufacturer. Clint embraced his possibilities. Victor Jr. tended to his responsibilities.

Victor Jr. still held out hope, attending what he thought was an MLS tryout in Houston. It was more like a scam preying on Latin American hopefuls willing to scrap together $100 for a chance to live their ultimate dream as a professional soccer player. Franky says Clint told him he would try to get Victor Jr. a tryout with the New England Revolution, the MLS team that picked him with the eighth pick in the 2004 draft.

For Victor Jr., though, bills needed paying, diapers needed changing. He went to the police academy, figuring he would chase bad guys as a cop rather than brilliant passes from Clint. He had to play the pass life gave him.

On Sept. 5, 2005, the U.S. men's national team was fresh off a 2-0 win over Mexico and had just punched its ticket to Germany for the 2006 World Cup. Later that day, then-national team coach Bruce Arena would publicly name Clint to the national team roster playing in Guatemala two days later. Back in Nacogdoches, Victor Jr. took a group of visiting cousins target shooting. "What happened" was as about as improbable as a kid from Naco-nowhere taking two touches in the final minutes of a Europa League round of 16 game last March, against Italy's Juventus, with his back against the goal, angling to the sideline, before chipping the ball 20 yards away into the Juventus goal in what would be described as the biggest goal by an American in Europe. Just as physics determined the shot, speed, and trajectory of Clint's goal, so too did those same principles determine how and when -- at least as the police believe -- Victor Jr.'s ear plug fell out. And as he reached down to grab it, the gun went off. The bullet hit him the head, police say.

***

Eighty-two cars followed Victor Jr.'s hearse to the cemetery. Victor Sr. buried his son. Franky buried his brother. Both buried their sport. Watching, hearing, even thinking of soccer hurt too much.

All of Victor Jr.'s trophies -- including the one 1998 Mexican League Championship -- line a set of shelves in the Rivera's garage. There's a soccer tournament held in Victor Jr.'s name every year. Seven years after the accident, Franky still can't bring himself to play. However, on June 12, the Riveras will tune in and watch Clint play. "Clint keeps soccer alive for us," Franky, now 25, says. In some ways, Victor Sr. says he doesn't even need to really watch when Clint plays. "I know where the ball's going to go, where Clint's gonna pass it. I just imagine where Victor would have gone and there it goes.