On September 22nd Manchester City and Arsenal played the most engrossing match of the Premier League season so far. The clash of the two likeliest title contenders produced a spectacular, long-range goal; a sending-off just before half-time; and a strike in the 98th minute to level the scores. But after the 2-2 draw, fans and pundits overlooked the drama. Instead they fulminated over Arsenal’s second-half tactics, accusing the London side of deliberately wasting time and interrupting the flow of the game. City’s players joined in: one called Arsenal’s behaviour “dirty”; another accused them of employing the “dark arts”.
Fans prefer an earthier term: “shithousery”. It denotes all manner of underhand tactics, from kicking the ball away after a stoppage in play, to making obvious fouls to slow an attack, to engaging in trash talk to knock them off their stride. Few aspects of the game provoke more ire. To many, this subtle sabotage denigrates hallowed principles of sportsmanship. Such critics are often ready to excuse their own team’s deviousness, perhaps applauding it as clever. But they are still keen for the other side to play by the rules rather than bend them. Their use of the dark arts is inherently devious, even immoral.
But sportspeople are not paid for piety. Their task is to win. Achieving that involves taking risks and pushing boundaries. Almost everybody does it, at least to some degree, and not just in football. Cricket has “sledging”, a form of trash talk; basketballers speak of drawing fouls; rugby players illegally use their hands in a ruck, hoping that the referee won’t notice. Even Manchester City’s seemingly high-minded footballers aren’t above some skulduggery. In Sunday’s match the referee showed Arsenal’s Leandro Trossard a second yellow card—and hence a red one—for kicking the ball away after he had been penalised for a foul. Fans were quick to point out that a City player had got away with the same offence earlier in the game.
Of course, limits exist. Tactical fouls can be needlessly aggressive. In their trash talk some athletes stoop to bigotry. Seeing a player fake an injury is frustrating for spectators. But as long as the rules of a game (and the bounds of decency) are not explicitly broken, the dark arts are a valid tool. Sport is full of ambiguity: referees cannot keep track of everything that transpires on the pitch. Athletes should use these blindspots to their advantage. Fans, meanwhile, decry such flaws at their own peril. Many feel the introduction of the video assistant referee (better known by its acronym, VAR), a system that uses camera footage to help officials, has ruined football as a spectacle. The chaotic, human drama of sport is what makes it exciting.
Moreover, gritty tactics often help that most noble of sporting entities: the underdog. Just ask Diego Simeone, the manager of Atlético Madrid. During nearly 13 years in the Spanish capital the Argentine coach has developed a combative style of play that relies on breaking up the opposing side’s rhythm and striking on the counter-attack. This might involve strong, sometimes late tackles; taking the maximum time permitted at goal kicks; and, yes, the occasional dive. This has not made Mr Simeone and his team popular with rival fans. But it has allowed them to claim two league titles in a country where football is dominated by Barcelona and Real Madrid.
In an era when a cabal of mega-clubs increasingly dominate European football, the feat should be celebrated. To take on richer rivals, teams have to use every weapon available. After all, football matches are not processions for the most skilful or best paid: players must master the psychology of competition to win, too. Manchester City have claimed the past four Premier League titles. It’s little surprise that Arsenal, who have narrowly come second for the past two seasons, should try and rattle them in order to go one better.
Those dabbling in the dark arts must be aware of the risks. When a team plays dirty and wins, they will be lauded, at least in some quarters, for their cunning. Yet if such a side loses (or, as in Arsenal’s case, concedes a late equaliser), onlookers will happily jeer. Mr Simeone’s experience is again a case in point. Every time Atlético suffer a heavy loss or a spell of poor form, as all sides do, commentators bemoan their bad temper and ill-discipline. Pundits go on to ponder if Mr Simeone’s reign at the club might finally be over. Yet he is still there, having outlasted nine coaches at Barcelona and six at Real Madrid. Football’s favourite villain is also one of its finest managers.
© 2024, The Economist Newspaper Limited. All rights reserved. From The Economist, published under licence. The original content can be found on www.economist.com
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