Tactically Naive: West Ham cure a crisis (but not theirs)

Hello, and welcome to another edition of Tactically Naive, SB Nation’s weekly soccer column. Today is Tactically Naive’s birthday! Hooray!

It was a thrilling evening at the London Stadium, London. The Premier League’s two most risible excuses for football teams went head to head in a no-holds-barred all-or-nothing deathmatch. But who would prove to be in the sorriest state? Well, it was a close run thing.

On the practical, actual side of things, Arsenal won, and that should make the internet a slightly calmer place for a little while. That caps their winless run in the league at seven, and stabilises their slide down the table at ninth, right in the middle of the Premier League’s extremely compressed upper mid-table.

(There’s only two points between Manchester United in fifth and Newcastle United in 11th. Two points! To use a technical term, that’s a mess.)

But Arsenal’s win came after a good solid hour of Arsenal losing, and losing in that abject, disjointed, have these people ever met before fashion that we all know and most of us enjoy laughing at it. Not surprising in itself: there’s a reason they sacked their manager and appointed their comfort blanket. But oh, they looked miserable.

Luckily, if you’re ever feeling bad about yourself, West Ham will soon be along to fall over in front of you and make things okay. Feeling down, Gabriel Martinelli? Here, have an untroubled jog into the penalty area. Worried about life, Nicolas Pépé? Why not cut inside on your left foot. There you go. Better? Lovely stuff.

And so after 90 minutes, the prize for the sorriest collection of footballers in the Premier League (this week) goes to West Ham. Christmas is a time of giving, and they truly are the gift.

* Well, his Manchester United side at least. The players did a fair bit too. Wasn’t Fred good?

** Two games of football. Or, at least another couple of months without stories about his imminent dismissal.

So, did you see that coming? Because Tactically Naive did not. We suspected — hell, we knew, for near-as-dammit certain — that Manchester United were going to get schooled not once but twice. First, at Old Trafford, Spurs would unstitch them on the break. Then three days later, at the Etihad, Manchester City would pummel their wobbly defence until it exploded into tiny humiliated pieces.

Neither of these things happened. Instead, Manchester United stood up, looked Narrative square in the eye, and said: “Not today”.

Or at least “Not today? Please?” You’d be lying if you said the City win was comfortable, after all.

But United got what they were after. Six points, a derby win, a big fat injection of good feelings right into the vein. Most importantly, Solskjaer now has some big chunky results and some admirably committed performances to point to. Proof of concept for the feel-good project.

In truth, United have done the world a big favour. For the last couple of months, there has been a serious and jarring contradiction mucking up the universe. We had a United team that looked comfortably mid-table, dropping points all over the place in most un-United fashion. And we had a United manager who was, by all serious accounts, entirely safe in his job.

These two states of affairs could not possibly co-exist, and yet there they were, both existing, in clear defiance of the laws of the universe. Taunting us. Flaunting the contradiction. No wonder it’s been impossible to watch United without developing a nasty headache.

Happily, this situation has now been resolved, and Solskjaer can get on with the business of trying to work out how to beat teams that don’t leave acres of space open at the back. Tactically Naive is, well, tactically naive, but this looks to us like a team desperate for an old-fashioned playmaker. And it’s nearly January. Once more to the Wesley Sneijder rumour, for old time’s sake?

That blip against Manchester United behind them, Tottenham got back to doing what all Jose Mourinho teams do: score loads of goals, have a great time, bring happiness and joy into the world.

Goals like this are glorious things: they build and surge, like a cresting wave. Nobody is thinking “goal” when Son picks the ball up; a few moments later, nobody is thinking anything at all. Everybody’s too busy shouting and whooping and yelling and generally losing the run of themselves.

Sure, there’s some ropey defending in there, and you wouldn’t blame Sean Dyche if he made eight or nine of his players walk home. But such goals is a crescendo from the inconceivable to incredible, from something you didn’t anticipate to something you can’t quite believe. And while the hope that such moments turn up isn’t the only reason to watch elite football, it’s certainly one of the most wholesome reasons.

Obviously Spurs’ resurgence under new management is, well, just the same as any other team’s. What was an underperforming squad is now an overperforming squad. Nothing works for ages, then suddenly everything works at once. But Tactically Naive is happy to accept these performances — this goal — as an apology from Jose Mourinho to the world, for all the tedious games and tedious press conferences he gave us last time around.