England, initially without Wayne Rooney, made a truly wretched start to the
group qualifiers at the 2006 World Cup, labouring to beat first Paraguay and
then the remarkable Trinidad and Tobago team, whose band of largely obscure
players, reinforced by an astonishing veteran keeper in Shaka Hislop who
wasn’t expected to play at all and the ex-Aston Villa striker Dwight Yorke,
bewildered the Swedes in their first game.
Opening against Paraguay in Frankfurt, England had the encouragement of a
third-minute goal when Paraguay’s experienced centre-back and skipper,
Carlos Gamarra, headed Beckham’s free kick – England’s solitary reliable
weapon – into his own goal. Sven Goran-Eriksson blamed the intense heat for
his team’s subsequent deficiencies. Far from going on to sweep Paraguay
aside, even when they had to replace their injured keeper, England, with a
dreary proliferation of long balls towards the towering Peter Crouch, who
ended absurdly as a one-man strike force, England were lucky not to concede
an equaliser when Paul Robinson, all too typically, pawed at a cross but
Carlos Paredes shot too high.
An evidently worried Eriksson now, controversially if not irresponsibly,
picked Wayne Rooney for the next game, in Nuremberg, against Trinidad. It
had been assumed, not least by Alex Ferguson, that if Rooney were to play at
all, it would not be before the second stage of the competition when his
metatarsal injury – which Michael Owen too had suffered – might have
sufficiently healed.
Long balls to Crouch were again a depressing feature of England’s play. He
missed an easy chance and when he did head a late goal it should arguably
have been annulled since he’d helped himself upwards by grasping Brent
Sancho’s dreadlocks. Gerrard, effective but obliged to play too deep, scored
a still later second, a strong shot with his lesser left foot. Rooney, onfor
the last half hour, looked understandably short of fitness. But things had
improved when the dynamic Spurs right winger Aaron Lennon arrived, David
Beckham dropping diplomatically to right back, whence it was his cross which
gave Crouch his goal.
Sweden in Cologne were the third opponents. The game started badly when poor
Owen, after just four minutes, took a heavy fall and caused such damage to
his knee that he would be out not only of the World Cup but from football
itself for the forseeable future. He was replaced by Crouch, which again
meant dependence on the long ball. With Rooney showing sporadic flashes of
his terrific talents, Joe Cole put England ahead with a superbly executed
goal, chesting a clearance from a corner, to volley a superb topspun
right-foot shot which curled and dipped past the goalkeeper, Andreas
Isaksson.
Laborious in open play, Sweden were all too dangerous as the game went on from
any kind of corner, free kick or throw in especially from the left – the
kind of balls which English defences from time immemorial were expected to
deal with. Not now. Robinson, in goal, looked as vulnerable as the usually
solid John Terry, Sol Campbell and Ashley Cole. You could hardly blame
Eriksson for that.
It was, embarrassingly, a Swedish bombardment. A corner from the left by
Tobias Linderoth was met not by an English head but that of the striker
Marcus Allback, eluding both Robinson, no dominator of his area, and on the
far post, Ashley Cole. The aerial assault continued, Sweden twice striking
the bar, from Henrik Larsson’s header and a shot by the centre back, Olof
Mellberg.
Rooney came off after 69 largely frustrated minutes, Steven Gerrard made a
belated appearance, and it was his shot five minutes from time which
somewhat flatteringly restored England’s lead. They could not keep it, nor
did they deserve to. The game was in its final minute when another long
throw from the left was culpably allowed to bounce in the box, and Larsson
made just sufficient contact to score. So Sweden remained unbeaten by
England since 1968.
Still, one way or another, England had limped into the second, knock-out,
round. Meanwhile no one was enjoying himself, or herself, more than the
raucous so-called Wags, the wives and girlfriends of the England players,
unwisely allowed to stay in a hotel not far from the team’s headquarters.
Eliciting Groucho Marx’s old adage, ‘better nouveau than never’, they spent
their days shopping, their evenings and nights in noisy conviviality, though
it was reported that Relatively Posh Spice kept her distance.
The second round saw another meagre England victory, this time 1–0 against
Ecuador. Lennon, who had not even been used in the previous match, this time
would get a measly last three minutes, substituting Beckham who had been in
no physical condition to play, having been taken ill before the game. But
yet another of his deceptive free kicks won it against an Ecuador team which
had begun the tournament brightly, but fallen apart in their final group
game against Germany. Eriksson’s fear of the counterattack led to his using
the defensive Michael Carrick in midfield in another of his 4–1–4–1
formations while, though Rooney was once again obliged to play alone up
front, he not only lasted the full 90 minutes but was at his electrifying
best in the latter stages. Indeed, when he skilfully got to the left byline
and pulled the ball back to Lampard, the Chelsea man, in dismal form
throughout the tournament, should surely have scored rather than hoof the
ball high.
Beckham’s decisive goal came on the hour, the ball so skilfully placed as to
fall tantalisingly just inside the left-hand post. Even the Ecuador coach,
Luis Suarez, called it, "Perfect … a great free kick". But
by and large England’s wheels had failed yet again to turn; indeed, only a
glorious last-ditch interception by Ashley Cole prevented a disastrous early
goal. Terry ineptly headed the ball backwards, sending Carlos Tenorio clean
through, but just as he shot, Cole, who had heroically made up the ground,
stretched out a foot to deflect the ball against the top of the bar and out.
And so, as one had rather surmised, England one way or another had reached the
quarter-final which was fated to be their regular nemesis under Eriksson.
The opponents, just as in the last European Championship, would be Portugal,
under "Big Phil" Scolari, and it would go to penalties again. In
Gelsenkirchen, England, now deploying a 4–5–1 formation, were as pedestrian,
Lampard as ineffectual, as ever. The revelation was the previously
much-disparaged Owen Hargreaves, butt of the England fans, who gave a
sterling and commanding performance in midfield.
Perhaps it was all too forseeable that Rooney, so manifestly exploited, should
ultimately explode. This he did around the hour, stamping on the groin of
the Portuguese centre back Ricardo Carvalho, who’d fouled him. It hardly
needed the antics of Rooney’s Manchester United team-mate, Cristiano
Ronaldo, to have him sent off. There was no moral justification for Rooney's
violence, yet in context his frustration was all too understandable. There
was every reason to believe that he had been sacrificed by Eriksson in a
desperate attempt to save his own strategic skin.
Beckham, laborious and outpaced, went off, replaced by Lennon early in the
second half. Twice, with typical bursts of pace, skill and courage, the
Spurs youngster made palpable chances to score, once again leaving one to
wonder what he might have accomplished had Eriksson not continued his
Beckham fixation, however hard he might insist that it was no kind of a "marriage".
Gift horses, and all that. Owen himself would later decry Eriksson’s
policies, yet in the none too distant past he had been a supporter. Easy and
understandable enough to be wise after the event, but by and large
international footballers support the managers who pick them.
Goalless at full time, the match remained tense and disjointed through the
extra period, both sides seemingly and inexorably settling for penalties.
With their dismal record it was a mystery that England saw their salvation
in the Russian roulette of the shoot-out. This time, having apparently
practised for this in training, they contrived to miss three of their four
spot kicks. The era of Eriksson and Beckham was over.
© Brian Glanville 2007 Extracted from England Managers, the
Toughest Job in Football, by Brian Glanville, published by Headline at
£18.99. It is available for £17.09 including postage from The Times
BooksFirst on 0870 165 8585 or buy the book here.
Just another boring account of the ever popular Eriksson / Beckham bashing instigated by the British press..but bearing no substance, considering that these are actually two of the most successful characters in English football.
No doubt already proved by recent events, that these two (and the rest of the England team at the time) actually made for and inspired a very talented, entertaining and profesional team, the likes of which had not been seen since the early 1990's and the Gazza/ Linekar years.
The tide is turning ...one day it will be fashionable to give them the due credit they have always deserved.
JudyB, Crewe, Cheshire