Chapter 7. The Policeman and His Beat

Do you know that in all the laws which govern this game of football, only one player gets mentioned in relation to his position on the field? The exception is the goalkeeper. As the law has it, a team consists of a goalkeeper and ten other players. This means, in effect, that there is no jurisdiction over the distribution of the other ten players. On the team-sheets, as printed, there are two full-backs, and a centre-half. In practice, and in most teams of the present time, there are three full-backs with the centre-half- in many teams - at least as much a fullback as either of the others given that title. Over this use of the third full-back, there has been more ink spilled, many arguments raised, and more words used - swear words some of them - than on any other actual playing topic which has cropped up in my time. We give the centre-half in modern football many names, in addition to that of third full-back. We call him a stopper, or a policeman.

The stopper centre-half is no modern invention. Always - certainly all through my time - there have been stopper centre-half-backs. Several door-ways lead to the goal. The most important of these door-ways is in the middle. Wouldn't it be sheer folly to leave that door wide open? The centre-half is the fellow to whom the rest of the team look, first and foremost, to keep that door as tight shut as he possibly can. I recall a match in which I played even before the offside law was altered. After the game had been in progress for half an hour or so a conversation between the centre-half and the other team's centre-forward went like this. 'Look here', said the centre-forward, 'isn't there any other player on the field except me?' 'Possibly there is', replied the centre-half, 'but I wasn't told about them!' Yes, right down the line, the primary task of the centre-half has been to stop the opposing centre-forward from scoring goals. Having made this clear, I must bow to the inevitable and admit that, for good or ill, the change in the offside law had the effect of changing, to a considerable extent, the ideas concerning the job of the centre-half. The late Herbert Chapman had much to answer for in that connection, but believe me, if he were still here, he would most emphatically decline to make any apology. By common consent Herbert Chapman was one of the best football team managers of all time. He, of all people was responsible for the start of a controversy concerning the duties of the centre-half which has been carried on for a quarter of a century, and which, according to present indications, will be continued for at least that length of time again. Chapman's opinion was that, almost literally, the centre-half should be a stopper and nothing but a stopper.

On one occasion the Arsenal manager of that time left me in no doubt as to how he expected the centre-half of his team to play. Circumstances caused me to be given the 'pivot' position. I have a newspaper cutting which tells about that game. (I always kept cuttings which said anything about how I played. Quite often something can be learnt from the opinions of the watchers.) That newspaper cutting caused me to puff out my chest. 'Joe Hulme played at centre-half in the Arsenal team, and was in fine form. The one-time winger scored the Arsenal goal which won the match'.

Of course I was pleased that somebody else was pleased with my display at centre-half, and especially about that match-winning goal. From my place high up in the clouds, however, I was soon brought back to earth by the Arsenal manager. On the carpet in the manager's room next morning I was told that it was not, as a centre-half, part of my job to score a goal, that in doing so I had traveled much too far off my beat. The lecturer pictured what might have happened at the Arsenal end of the field if, instead of scoring, I had lost possession of the ball.

All true, of course - very true, and leading up to the question of whether the job of the centre-half of a football team should be a stopper: just that and no more. Herbert Chapman created the stopper centre-half as a part of a general plan of match play. He had in his mind a blue print of the sort of football he wanted from his team as a whole. It might be said that in the blue print there was a red ink mark showing the centre-half as the 'policeman'. That policeman was 'Herbie' Roberts: not a great footballer in the all round sense, but what a stopper!

Many other clubs, important and not so important, have copied the Arsenal plan. Some of them have made a success of it. And that undeniable fact is not overlooked when I express the purely personal opinion that I would still rather watch a team in which the centre-half is the pivot of the whole side, rather than merely the pivot of the defensive portion of the team.

If it is agreed, however, that the centre-half must be little more than a third full-back, then he must play that way, whether he fancies himself in the policeman's role or not. It follows, too, that if the centre-half is not to be allowed to wander up the field, if his duty begins and ends in behaving like Mary's little lamb towards the opposing centre-forward, the play of other members of the side must be ordered accordingly. There must be somebody, in the space left around the middle of the field by the backward centre-half, who will get the ball there, draw an opponent, and feed the men in front. Alex James was that cog in the Arsenal wheel.

Now, accepting for the moment that the decision in relation to the team tactics of any particular side is that the centre-half shall be first and foremost, and nearly all the time, a policeman, we can go ahead to look at the things he must do, and the things he must be, while on his beat. Whether, in the real police force, the big boys in blue are better than the policemen of average size, I have no means of knowing. It is very obvious, however, that when the centre-half of so many teams was turned into a policeman, we proceeded to produce a race of big strong fellows to fill the bill. As one manager put it, 'I want a centre-half who stands six feet in his socks, and if he is a bit more than that, all the better'.

Think of some of them - Leslie Compton, Harry Clarke, Frank Brennan, Allenby Chilton - and others from current first-class teams who will be readily recalled by followers of the game. They've got to be tall, these stoppers. Of course the game should be played with the ball on or near to the ground. We all know that, and how we love to see the teams which keep it there most of the time. But it's an ideal - a dream we can scarcely hope will ever come true. Anyway, how can the outside winger get the ball into the goal-area except by putting his toe under it and sending it there through the air? That is just one of the many occasions when 'lift' has to be given to the ball. It has to be accepted that as the game is played, many of the attacks will be air-borne. And that is where the value of the extra inches of the centre-half come in most useful.

The big fellow must dominate the middle. If he is big enough, or can get up high enough, then the majority of the lofted passes which are meant for the centre-forward become the property of the centre-half. They should be, because he is in the happy position of being able to meet those high up-the-middle balls. He is moving forward whereas the centre-forward has somehow to watch the ball coming towards him when he is facing the wrong way.

Always in position to head - or nod - the ball away from his immediate opponent. That is part of the job of the big centre-half. Much the same thing applies to the balls on the ground. Quick, intelligent intervention is at the root of successful centre-half play.

Last season, in two successive matches I saw the same team play with different centre-halves. The regular first-team man was hurt in the first of these two games, and the reserve was promoted for the other game. Between the play of the two men there was this big difference: the regular first-team man repeatedly moved in to get the ball while the opposing centre-forward was waiting for it to come to him. The reserve centre-half, a little afraid perhaps of making a mistake, stood back until the opposing centre-forward was in possession of the ball. He then proceeded to the much harder task of taking it from him.

The centre-forward often gets the ball through the air when he is facing his own goal, with the centre-half in close attendance. The centre-forward can make a backward pass to an inside man, run around the centre-half- without the ball - to be in position to accept the quick pass from his inside man.

Fig 5

If the centre-forward does get the ball - and he will - the ever present centre-half must worry him, bother him, tackle him, and by sheer persistence either get the ball or compel the centre-forward to make a hurried pass. The good centre-forward doesn't take all this attention by the policeman lying down. He tries to get out of the way, he may wander over to the right or to the left. Should the centre-half pursue the centre-forward on his wanderings? There are times - when the centre-forward is dribbling away from the middle - when the centre-half must follow; when he must be there to worry. But if the centre-forward goes over to one wing or the other, then the centre-half who follows him is overlooking the main part of his duty, that of dominating the middle of the pitch.

The Manchester United club was among the first to try to confuse the stopper centre-half by forward switches. Jack Rowley, the centre-forward repeatedly changed places with Jimmy Delaney, the outside right. The plot worked for a little while because opposing centre half-backs, having been told to keep the handcuffs on the centre-forward, went wandering after him. This meant that they weren't in the middle when the ball was put across. The move has ceased to pay such good dividends because centre half-backs discovered, in due course, that permitting themselves to be lured off their beat didn't pay. Goals were stolen while they were off duty.

The big centre-half - even the fellow who is under orders to be a stopper - can leave his position as guardian of the middle pathway to his own goal, with advantage to his side. That is when his own team has been granted a corner-kick. Arsenal would not have been Cup-winners in 1950 - they would have been beaten in the semi-final - if Leslie Compton had not gone right into the Chelsea penalty area to head a ball past their goalkeeper as it came over from the corner-flag. Do you ask me why, if the centre-half is the sort of fellow who can head a goal from a corner-kick, he isn't allowed - or supposed - to try it until the side is in desperate straits for an equalizing or winning goal? Here is the answer.

In the early stages of a game even the big stopper centre-halves are so scared of being found out of position: so afraid that the opposing centre-forward will break away to snatch a goal, that they don't go up to try to use the corner-kicks until it is considered worth while to run the risk of a goal being given away. With due reserve I say to even the classic stopper centre half-backs, and especially to those of teams which have not so big forwards, go up all the time for those corner-kicks! The risk of a goal against can always be minimized by some other player - one of the forwards - falling back to act as deputy controller of the middle. Such a move is an essential part of team play. By the very nature of his defensive duties the centre-half becomes a good header of the ball.

In several ways he can play his part in starting attacks by his own side. From his third full-back position he can often nod the ball down to one or other of his full-back partners; or to a wing half, always provided, of course, that those other players are in position to receive the ball.

Much as I would enjoy doing so, I must resist the temptation to speculate at length on what the future will have in store for the centre-half. Some clubs may even copy the Austrian idea. Their centre-half was a different sort of player, a man with a roving commission. Actually, his only connection with the centre-half position was the fact that he wore number five on his back. Perhaps one of these days some British club will have the courage to copy the Austrian idea. Such a change, however, will mean something like a revolution of defensive tactics in general.

I hope what I have written about the centre-half who is primarily, and nearly all the time, the man who keeps the handcuffs on the opposing centre-forward, leaves nobody with the impression that this type of centre-half is barred from giving any assistance to the men in front of him. The centre-half who is doing his job gets the ball often, and is frequently able to make good use of it. He can send long swinging passes to the wing men, for instance, or up the middle.

We now come, automatically, to the other type of centre-half, the player who can work the ball up the field. Without qualification - save that the position play of other members of the team is affected -1 prefer the centre-half who is the complete footballer. I remember Frank Barson, the most complete centre-half of my time. In case there should come a reminder he that was at the top of the class prior to the change in the offside rule, I would like also to quote the name of Stanley Cullis. He played for the Wolves after the offside law was altered, after the stopper centre-half became the general fashion.

These fellows could work the ball up, could beat an opponent, could move forward with it. By their adventurous play they made goals, and if the question was put to centre-forwards of their time as to whether they had a harvest festival, a loud laugh would be their reply.

Thank goodness we still have in the game to-day centre halfbacks who can do both jobs, and this should at least encourage the ambitious 'pivots' of the present day to carry on their efforts to become complete footballers. Jack Rigby of Manchester City is one of them. Perhaps the outstanding case, however, is that of Jack Froggatt of Portsmouth. I mentioned earlier in this book how, changing from the outside left position, he dropped back to centre-half. There he quickly gained an International cap. What I did not mention was that, after the international game, he was dropped like a hot cake. Why? Because he wandered too much from the generally accepted beat. The people connected with his club, however, are quite content that he should keep on doing this, and Portsmouth are among the attractive sides which still win matches. Take note, however, that when the adventurous Jack Froggatt works the ball up the field, wing half Jimmy Dickinson goes over towards the middle of the field. The path down the middle is still guarded.

To budding centre half-backs, this is my advice. Don't come to the conclusion that it is the easiest job on the field, that all it calls for is a grim determination to stick closer than a brother to the opposing centre-forward. Stop him, certainly. But you can't possibly be a less efficient member of the team if you are a complete footballer. It may be that, working your way up the ladder, you will eventually find yourself under orders to be just a third full-back. I hope you won't.