Practice Reporting Season 2010/2011
Since a lot of things and statements have always been made in very general terms, so that the reader is only ever asked where and when he heard these phrases, how these phrases are used or whether there is anything at all congruent with his own experience, a few concrete, overheard comments, assessments or interviews, whatever, are to be recorded here. Of course, no claim is made to completeness, nor is it possible to achieve complete authenticity in the sense of quotations in all cases. Nevertheless, the tendency is more than clear. In cases where the tone of voice has a meaning, this will not always be perfectly recognisable in the written word, so there may be a separate reference to it. How “acoustic” it becomes of this, let one judge for oneself.
1) Bild interview with Magath, after three Schalke defeats in the league + CL defeat in Lyon.
2) Bild interview with Magath, after three Schalke defeats in the league + CL defeat in Lyon.
“Oh, in the middle, Ibisevic completely free…. That’s too awkward, that’s just bad.” (picked up at Hoffenheim against Schalke, 3, matchday 1. BL 2010/2011, end 2:0). A very typical commentary sequence. First, the reporter recognises that a player is standing free. This is indeed a rarity in today’s top football, but has by no means become less desirable. The fact is that in the past it was more common to find such a player, plus there was occasionally the accompanying realisation that “the player was wonderfully played free.” This is a downright art, since defensive thinking has taken hold everywhere and the tactical requirements almost never allow a superior number to arise in attacking situations. But if it does happen once, it is the case that the (neutral) spectator would like to see. There is nothing to object to yet, but woe betide if….
The fact that he is supposedly “completely free” – of course it’s only a hundredth of a second, but nevertheless the gap was there – already sounds like a defensive failure, so the error analysis is already initiated, you can already hear it coming, if the attack should result in a goal, when he, patting himself on the back afterwards, says at the replay: “Look, here he is completely blank. No, what’s wrong with the defence? Everybody was asleep.” However, the ball did not reach him. Whatever he might have dreamed of – in the event that that happens, the verdict is already in and the sleepy defence is to blame – did not happen. The attacker did not play the ball directly into the gap that was free for a thousandth of a second – it is even questionable whether there was one – but stopped the ball briefly and looked for a better way, a feasible way, the defence was on the spot – of course the whole scenario is no exception, because what attack ever brings a goal? –, no goal came of it. Now he has an equally good opportunity to find someone stupid, someone to blame, who is picked on mercilessly: “It’s too awkward, it’s just bad.”
At first, a brief classification is made by picking out the awkwardness (there is an extra chapter on the nonsense of the prefix “too”), but actually it is no longer worth differentiating. Bad is just bad. Simply bad. That’s how the attack was.
How one feels as a speaker afterwards is clear. “I’m the greatest, because I know how things stand.” It certainly doesn’t do justice to the player, it doesn’t do justice to football, and it doesn’t do justice to the game situation in which you’d like to see him do it 10,000 times in a row yourself, and he wouldn’t get the ball there once the way he apparently dreamed of. But what he does to the TV viewer at that moment, to whom he wants to credibly assure on the one hand that there is “just bad” play here, but that you absolutely have to watch these chains of mistakes, is surely the last thing he thinks about. “Bad is bad. And if it is, it has to be said.” Well, in his case one could perhaps simply blame a lack of understanding, which in itself is nothing to reproach him for. But who is making him say this nonsense?
“They don’t have him on the clock”. An attacker moves into the penalty area, actually gets to the precise cross and sinks it. Yes, the only thing remarkable about this scene is this: “They don’t have it on the clock”. Is that supposed to be funny? Because of the clock? A comparison that doesn’t evoke any associations? The flippancy of the statement, I suppose that’s what makes the joke? “Not on the clock” Yes, really funny, the boy, you only notice when you let it melt on your tongue again and again. That’s exactly how it was. There’s nothing to cheer about here. So that you, dear viewer, don’t get out of your chair.
“Matip doesn’t look so good again, but the whole defence is asleep.” (In the game against Schalke, HSV scores the 2-1 in the 83rd minute, for example; a great goal, in which Ze Roberto breaks through on the outside left, plays the ball well-considered and cool to van Niestelrooy, who indicates with a short run-up and reaches one step in front of the defender, puts it in the goal with perfect technique). Yes, if that’s all the “analysis” that’s left after a goal like that, then I wish the announcer had his own channel where he could make his arguments for the deaf and dumb. This is so unbelievably sad, bad, stupid, wrong, inappropriate that one really has no words for it. “Stupidity needs a boost.” Apparently there was a brief effort to “explain” the goal via individual criticism, but that was deemed too strenuous, so they just pulled out the mace and simply made it “the whole defence is bumbling”. Yes, that’s how it was. Perfect analysis, perfect conveyance of tension and drama.
By the way, it’s important to remember that it starts with “Matip doesn’t look so good again. After all, Schalke lost.
“They do that quite well at times, how they hold the ball in the opponent’s half for a while. ManU then retreat, let them do a bit, but as soon as the return pass comes, they are attacked again, of course.” Picked up in the match Manchester United – West Ham United, English Premier League, Matchday 3, 2010/2011 on 28.8.2010 at the 37th minute with the score 1:0 for ManU).
What is he trying to tell us now? The “in phases” is so bland and nonsensical, because it is supposed to be a generalisation, a game plan or whatever it would be, but this happens in the 37th minute, at a time when there is absolutely no room for such a thing. West Ham are behind and of course somehow try to get something forward. Are they never allowed to have the ball because the opponent is ManU? Well, when you have the ball, first of all, it’s an art to hold on to it. The other is to gain space in the process. In modern football, practically all teams retreat as soon as the opponent has possession of the ball. When you are in the lead, this means will certainly not be less prevalent. When you gradually gain space, then the third, decisive art comes into play: how do you score a goal? In a game like this, it wouldn’t be a sensation if West Ham succeeded, but they have somewhere around a 50% chance of scoring a single goal at all. So it would be quite a surprise that this would happen in the attack just “commented” on.
The scene went like this: West Ham made some progress in terms of forward movement, actually holding the ball for a certain period of time – well, you test how long it would take you to recite that sentence – but got no further forward, so one player decided to back-pass into his own half – incidentally, this sort of thing is also far from unusual these days; possession takes precedence over frantic action with vague chances of success — which, incidentally, can even be effective when the spaces get tighter. For please bear in mind that when you bring the ball forward slowly before, you actually push more and more opposing players backwards, so that the player who is lagging far behind might then find a lot of space. It so happened, by the way, that this attack, of all things, became quite a good scoring opportunity due to the very patient delivery and skill of the executors. The commentator’s talk, which tried in generalities to explain an attack in progress, is as inane as a balloon. It is not designed to be exciting, that anyway. Basically, it is “blablablabla” followed by “yawn”. But this “yawn” is made by the audience. You feel so clearly that a man here has no idea whatsoever about football. But that he has to spread his boredom about such a dull event?
