Former Nigeria coach and captain Stephen Keshi dead at 54
Stephen Keshi is one of only two men to have won the Africa Cup of Nations as a player and coach.
The African football fraternity is mourning the death of former
Nigeria captain and coach Stephen Keshi from a cardiac arrest at the age
of 54.
Keshi died suddenly in the early hours of Wednesday morning in Benin
City in southern Nigeria. He was planning to return to his base in the
United States later that day.
His friends say that Keshi was in good health and had no previous heart problems.
After winning 64 Nigeria caps as a central defender between 1981-95,
Keshi had three stints in charge of Togo before taking over as Nigeria
coach in 2011 until last year. He also coached Mali between 2008-10.
He led Nigeria to the 2013 Africa Cup of Nations title, defeating
Burkina Faso in the final in South Africa before guiding them to the
second round of the 2014 World Cup in Brazil.
Former Nigeria Captain and Coach, Stephen Keshi,
is dead. Reports say the legend died in the early hours of Wednesday,
RIP Big Boss.
Along with Egypt's Mahmoud El-Gohary, Keshi is one of only two men to
have won the Africa Cup of Nations as both a player and coach.
His 20-year playing career included stints in Belgium, France, the United States and finally in Malaysia, with Perlis FA.
Keshi lost his wife, Kate, last December after a three-year battle with cancer and is survived by their four children.
Nicknamed the "Big Boss" for his leadership skills, Keshi was part of
the Super Eagles team that made the second round of USA '94 before
losing to eventual finalists, Italy in the Round of 16.
50 Years of Hurt: Why England haven't won a major tournament since 1966
The ESPN FC crew weigh in on England's narrow 1-0 victory over a 10-man Portugal side.
Fifty years of hurt. To narrow half a century down to just one
emotion -- hope, dejection, despair, indifference or indignation, to
suggest a few -- would have been a tricky task for whoever decided to
start counting the years of underachievement. In picking apart the
anatomy of England's consistent failures since 1966, the year they won
the World Cup, there are several recurring themes: penalty shootouts,
qualification crises, refereeing injustice, agonising misses and England
simply being outclassed.
Managers have come and gone, often cruelly. Generations of players
have failed to deliver on their much-vaunted promises, but one man has
borne witness to all of them. With two dozen major tournaments under his
belt, with England and without, commentator Barry Davies is well placed
to reflect on the hows, whys and oh-god-not-agains.
A tragic trajectory: England and penalty shootouts
Stadio delle Alpi, Turin. World Cup. July 4, 1990. 10.33 p.m. local time.
Already ashen and clearly wishing to be anywhere else than a World
Cup semifinal shootout, Chris Waddle cuts the figure of a man who just
wants it over and done with as quickly as possible. On paper, Stuart
Pearce was the least likely Englishman to miss a penalty, but he's busy
experiencing that sinking feeling after his effort slammed against the
legs of Bodo Illgner.
Waddle's run-up, back swing and connection all scream, "This is going
in Row Z." It would have made it, were it not for the running track
snaking behind the goal.
Nothing in football is more oversimplified and overthought than the
penalty kick, let alone one taken by an Englishman in the summer of an
even-numbered year. It took until 1990 for its mind-melting and
heartbreaking qualities to be forcibly encoded into the DNA of the
England national team. That defeat was the birth, and perhaps the
epitome, of their enduring penalty predicament. A capable and yet
powerless goalkeeper (Peter Shilton guessed the right way every time but
couldn't propel his 40-year-old self quickly enough) was faced with an
impossibly ice-cool opponent (West Germany's four penalties were
immaculate). The template was set. England were well on their way to a
29-23 aggregate defeat in penalty shootouts at major tournaments.
The deflating Euro '96 failure from 12 yards introduced a new
feature: the meek, goalkeeper-friendly penalty by an otherwise robust
performer. After five of the most authoritative penalties we're ever
likely to see from an England team, Gareth Southgate found himself next
in line at Wembley.
"As a commentator, and I'm sure as a fan as well, you just get a
feeling about someone as they step up," Davies said. Southgate's lapse
would be joined by similarly unconvincing efforts by Paul Ince and David
Batty (France '98) and Steven Gerrard, Frank Lampard and Jamie
Carragher (Germany 2006) in uniting the nation in a hindsight-enhanced
plea of "why didn't you just belt it?" Gareth Southgate's soft spot kick in 1996 was part of England's difficult relationship with penalties.
This was only England's second mental collapse in a penalty shootout, and the novelty was even extended to a quaint Pizza Hut commercial
featuring Pearce, Waddle and Southgate. But novelty would give way to
the sheer mundane inevitability of English penalty misery at a handful
of crucial moments thereafter, no matter what they tried.
Davies wrote in his autobiography: "Hoddle once told me the secret of
how to practise them. 'We work the goalkeepers by taking the penalties
from 10 yards and then make the takers shoot from 14. So it looks a
little easier when it happens for real.' What a good idea, I thought; I
was therefore a bit surprised when I heard the story that, in 1998,
England hadn't practised for what turned out to be the decisive
moments."
The enduring, looming spectre of the shootout -- not a code ever
likely to be cracked, it seems -- means that it has become part and
parcel of every England manager's tournament agenda. After yet another
failed test of nerve at Euro 2012, Roy Hodgson will again field the
biennial questions from the press about whether his players will
practise penalties amid the same tired pondering about whether the
pressure can truly be replicated on the training ground. Perhaps that's
the true cost of Waddle's wobble 26 years ago.
Before the first hurdle: England's unqualified failures
Wembley Stadium, London. World Cup qualifying. October 17, 1973. 8.59 p.m. local time.
"Hunter's got to make that ... and he's lost it!"
Thirty-six shots to Poland's two. 26 corners. Six efforts either
against the woodwork or cleared off the Polish line, and a string of
increasingly preposterous saves by goalkeeper Jan Tomaszewski. If that
wasn't football's dictionary definition of "it wasn't their night," a
missed tackle by a man who went by the nickname of "Bites Yer Legs"
(Norman Hunter) really was the cherry on top of England's humble pie.
With his lower limbs intact, Grzegorz Lato skipped down the left
wing, drifted inside and laid the ball smoothly into Jan Domarski's
unbroken stride, and there was time and space for one last humiliation
as his well-struck but saveable shot skidded beneath England's No. 1 to
make it 1-0.
"Shilton was textbook, but he turned the page too slowly," Davies
recalled in his autobiography. Alan Clarke netted a penalty to make it
1-1 but England missed out on the World Cup and Poland would go on to be
a consistent irritation to at least seven more qualification campaigns,
as much of an English tradition as metatarsal fractures, makeshift
left-wingers and James Milner.
"We'd always been at World Cups, there was just an expectation we
would qualify," says Davies about that night, although he could easily
be describing any other doomed England attempt. "And, in the end, they
rather fell over each other." England's failure to beat Poland meant they missed the 1974 World Cup. Qualification has never been a given.
Each decade that has passed since 1966 has had at least one iconic
tournament taking place without England to make up the numbers. Their
profligacy against Poland shut the door on the 1974 World Cup. The
national stadium would chant, "What a load of rubbish," as a 0-0 draw
with Greece helped extinguish any hopes of joining the Euro '84 party. A
despairing Graham Taylor and his bleak rabble of a squad were
immortalised in a TV documentary charting an occasionally slapstick
attempt to be part of the USA '94 tournament. Most recently, Steve
McClaren grimaced from beneath his umbrella as a Euro 2008-bound Croatia
sunk an aquaplaning Scott Carson & Co. on a dreadful Wembley pitch.
Thanks in part to a bloated Euro 2016 finals format that welcomes
almost half of UEFA's member nations, England strolled through a
qualification process that was more like a procession this time. What
does that mean for the championship itself? Expectations are low after
two disjointed and dispiriting showings in a row in Brazil and
Poland-Ukraine.
Cynically, there remains an unwavering sense that England habitually
wilt when faced with their first serious opposition in a major
tournament, which serves to reassert their natural place in the
international football food chain.
By a whistle: England vs. the referees
Estadio da Luz, Lisbon. Euros. June 24, 2004. 9:33 p.m. local time.
After 90 energy-sapping, nerve-fraying minutes, England have a
free-kick. Nothing stirs an English footballing heart than a chance to
deliver the ball directly into the penalty area. David Beckham does so,
inch-perfectly, and Sol Campbell rises highest to crash a header against
the Portugal crossbar up into the Lisbon sky.
Swiss referee Urs Meier has no idea that he's a blow of a whistle and
an overnight tabloid print run away from 16,000 angry emails written by
Englishmen, none of whom wish to avail themselves of his domestic
appliance retail business.
As the ball drops back under the bar and Campbell takes advantage of
John Terry's assault on goalkeeper Ricardo to nod home, Meier is about
to earn himself some notoriety. A UK supermarket would announce the
offer for a free eye test for any Swiss nationals, and a budget airline
cancelled its route to Zurich "as a mark of respect to our lads."
England's perceived football injustices were already an obsession, but
now they had become something worse: a commodity. Campbell's disallowed goal sent England home early from Euro 2004 when they had a chance of winning it all.
That disallowed goal, one that would surely have edged England
through at Portugal's expense, was a cruel carbon copy for Campbell. Six
summers previously, Kim Milton Nielsen denied him a goal vs. Argentina
because Alan Shearer had committed a similar foul. Nielsen wouldn't
receive the digital barrage of Meier in 2004, although he admitted with
more than a little bewilderment that "letters addressed to 'World Cup
referee, Denmark' got to me."
Where Meier was forced into hiding, Nielsen had a withering put-down
that rather accurately tapped in to perennial English anxiety: "My
message to those fans is to start from zero. There is Euro 2000 and
another World Cup to look ahead to. You can't live in the past. Live for
the future."
Are England the sorest losers in international football? "They're certainly the most practiced!" Davies exclaims.
Shot to the heart: England and the agonising miss
Wembley Stadium, London. Euros. June 26, 1996. 9.44 p.m. local time.
"Gascoigne!" cries Davies on the BBC, in his occasionally
semi-operatic way. "Urgh, I don't be-lieve it." ITV's commentary duo of
Brian Moore and Kevin Keegan let out a horrified "OH!" in perfect
unison. Somewhere in the same Wembley gantry, Martin Tyler manages to
form as much as a "GASCOI..." before his voice shatters into a thousand
pieces.
Thanks to the enduring memories of the summer of '96 -- the
"dentist's chair"; Skinner & Baddiel; England 4, Netherlands 1;
Pearce's penalty redemption; Southgate's heartbreak -- the 98th minute
of the hosts' European Championship semifinal with Germany is curiously
buried.
For once, the spectre of the much-maligned Golden Goal didn't usher
both sides into their respective shells as extra time began. Three
minutes in, with England committing no fewer than six men forward, David
Platt set Steve McManaman into offside trap-defying space down the
right. Darren Anderton's outstretched, unmarked arms pleaded for a
cut-back; when it came, the ball was a yard behind him. Anderton dug out
a shot of hope rather than intent, but the ball pinged back off the
post and back into the eternally grateful gloves of the initially
stranded Andreas Kopke.
That ought to have been that: Germany would regroup in defence,
England would consider that their one and only chance to snatch it and
extra time would dissolve into a mutually agreed stay of execution.
Sweaty palms met anxious faces on Terry Venables' bench in a perfect
tableau of footballing agony, but that wasn't to be the end. There was
time for Stefan Kuntz to plant a disallowed header into the top corner
at the other end -- "gooooodness me, the country's pulse must be beyond
natural science!" said an incredulous Davies, breathing a long sigh on
behalf of 24 million TV viewers -- before the ball unexpectedly broke to
Teddy Sheringham in the German half. Gascoigne came within inches of a famous goal to defeat Germany at Euro 1996. It wouldn't be England's last near miss.
Paul Gascoigne makes an instant beeline for the margins of the
penalty area while McManaman offers himself for the safe, short pass.
Sheringham ignores either option and clips a perfectly weighted ball to
Alan Shearer, who has drifted out to the right. A Marco van Basten-esque
volley seems a momentary temptation, but instead he guides the ball
back across Kopke's six-yard box. As it bobbles through, the hesitating
Gascoigne tears himself away from the clutches of Steffen Freund. The
ball is surely reachable, but Gascoigne's lunge is too late. His left
leg unfurls itself almost in slow-motion, missing its target by
centimetres. The ball zips to safety while England's talisman lies face
down on the goal line.
By that time, England had already established something of a fine
tradition in agonising waywardness at crucial moments. Jeff Astle's
sidefoot past a Brazilian post in 1970 had an eerie calm about it. Kevin
Keegan, fighting back from a back injury and playing his last game in a
national team shirt, contrived to turn a header wide of an open goal
against Spain in 1982. In 1986, another overlooked moment: Substitute
John Barnes got at the Argentinian defence -- "Go on, run at them,"
implored Davies on the BBC -- to plant a cross on to the head of Gary
Lineker at the far post, barely a yard out.
Penalty shootouts have their own self-contained pain, but the
instinctively dramatic aspect to an agonising miss is quite another
matter.
Left standing still: England's refusal to learn new tricks
Free State Stadium, Bloemfontein, South Africa. World Cup. June 27, 2010. 5.26 p.m. local time.
Philipp Lahm sweeps the ball upfield, and a 21-year-old Mesut Ozil
has 10 yards to make up on Gareth Barry. Within a few seconds, Ozil has
the freedom of the final third and Barry, the embodiment of England's
glaring inadequacy, is trailing in his wake. A simple pass into the
galloping Thomas Muller is enough for Germany to score a fourth goal,
the salt in a gaping wound.
The England side has received, and ignored, many footballing lessons
in its history, but none was more chastening than the refresher course
dished out by Joachim Low's dynamic Germans at the 2010 World Cup.
Perfecting a quick, decisive and forward-facing brand over which
Englishmen had always assumed copyright, Ozil and Muller reduced Fabio
Capello's huffing-and-puffing team to rubble. Germany routed England in 2010 as the Three Lions were simply stuck in an outdated style of play.
The blow to the English footballing ego was considerable. An
ostensibly ruthless style of football -- constantly looking for a killer
ball when a survival one is all that's needed -- is at the heart of
both the traditional pre-tournament optimism and the subsequent
post-exit soul-searching. Davies believes English football is almost a
"victim of its own rich history," having codified the game in 1863 and
then spent much of the next century-and-a-half trailing behind
innovators from South America and central Europe. Even though it did all
come together in 1966, he recalls a thoughtful recent observation by
Glenn Hoddle: "We took a step back and admired ourselves... and stood
still."
As well as lagging behind in football's tactical and technical
evolutionary cycle, England have simply been undone by moments of savvy
and nous. Ronaldo's wink to the Portugal bench in 2006, as a fully
combusted Wayne Rooney was directed toward an early bath after stamping
on Ricardo Carvalho, said a thousand words. Argentina's geometric art
installation of a free kick in 1998 demonstrated some imagination under
pressure of which England could only dream, as did Andrea Pirlo's
impossibly cool Panenka over the head of a humbled Joe Hart at Euro
2012.
After all of those wake-up calls, are England in 2016 more aware of
their shortcomings? Crucially, are they also more willing to learn and
adopt their methods?
The latest manifestation of England's tendency to look back rather
than forward is the selection dilemma surrounding Rooney. "I hope he
goes with Vardy and Kane, the players in form," Davies says, "and not
try to affect the balance of the team." The emergence of Kane and the
arrogance of youth in Dele Alli, plus the blunt force of Vardy, suggests
they could stamp their authority when it matters in France.
England have suffered from a chronic identity crisis since 1966, and
at one of the lower points in the last half-century, after a dismal Euro
'92, Graham Taylor perhaps said it best: "We have become trapped
between our traditional game and the feeling that, at international
level, we should play a more refined style."
That remains as true as ever for England. Struggling to move forward
and still looking back over their shoulders, they remain 50 years inert.