Chapter 11. The Worst - and the Best - Place: Centre-Forward

Not long ago I happened to drift into a party of young footballers. There was a whole team of them, and I soon discovered that they were in the midst of a heated discussion of a question which was probably discussed by their grandfathers, or even their great grandfathers. The question is as old as football itself. Which is the most difficult position on the football field?

In the discussion first one player and then another put in his claims, the centre-half, the wing-half, the centre-forward, the goalkeeper. I didn't stay to hear the finish of the argument, and have no knowledge as to whether those players came to any decision. But it was good that every member of the football team, from goalkeeper to outside left, should consider himself to be the most important member of the side, to have the most difficult task. Looking at his job from that angle, it should follow that each player will decide that he must be up to snuff, do his very best. And, hey presto, the foundations of a good team are laid!

Without going further into the matter of the relative difficulties of the various positions, we can certainly agree that the centre-forward has a vital part to play. It is at once the best and the worst job on the field, the place which experience tells us is the most difficult of all to fill satisfactorily. Go right to the top class and the evidence piles up. Since the days when Tommy Lawton was an automatic choice for the centre-forward position in the England team, the International selectors have turned their eyes this way and that, looking for the ideal successor. So far as can be gathered, from the number of different centre-forwards who have led the England attack in recent times, they are still looking. The same story is told by the managers of many of the best teams. They can't find the right centre-forward. Never in my time has there been an unemployment problem among centre-forwards.

Here we come up against a paradox. Centre-forward is the most coveted position, the one above all others which growing lads hanker after. In the football fiction stories I used to love, and which are loved by the present generation of boys, the hero, nine times out of ten, is the centre-forward. He comes into the team unknown, bangs three or four past the opposing goalkeeper in next to no time, and at one mighty bound he jumps to the top of the ladder. It's a pretty picture. What is more, often a true one.

The centre-forwards do spring up like mushrooms. They do win matches off their own bats - almost. But they don't always stay, and in passing, an inevitable explanation may be mentioned. It is easier to make a reputation as a goal-scoring centre-forward than it is to maintain that reputation. I remember a boy named Howard, promoted from some comparatively obscure Lancashire club into the first team of Manchester City. He shot three past the other team's First Division goalkeeper in the first fifteen minutes of his first game for the City. Before the end he shot a fourth. Howard hit the headlines in the newspapers, but he didn't keep it up. Opponents knew about him, and watched him much more closely than they did when he was an unknown. That is something which the centre-forward has to overcome.

The mystery about this scarcity of centre-forwards isn't very deep. The truth is that there is so much difference of opinion concerning what is wanted from that man in the middle of the attack. Is he there to score goals for his side and to be judged by the number of times he hits the ball to the back of the net? Or is he to be the leader of the attack, in fact as well as in name, the man who holds the line together, who doesn't necessarily score goals himself but who brings the other members of the line into play, even makes goals for them? It is easy enough to say that we want the centre-forward to do both these things, but because so much is wanted of them the ideal players are difficult to find. Many footballers rolled into one; that's the ideal. And while the ideal may be difficult to attain, there's no harm in keeping the ideal in mind.

The scoring of goals in quantity is an impossibility unless the centre-forward has a telling shot in both feet. The split-second chance - the half chance which leaves no time for juggling the ball from one foot to the other - can only be taken by the quick-witted and two-footed player. There is a fair amount of space, inside the goalposts, on each side of the goalkeeper. Alas, there is much more space over the bar! The secret of successful shooting, of keeping the ball low and booting it hard at the same time, is to get the body well over the ball. That helps in hitting the ball with the instep, which means with toe towards the ground. On the golf links, when a shot is muffed, the advice usually given is: 'Keep your head down. Look at the ball'. Similar advice can well be given to the footballer trying to score goals with his foot, keep the eyes on the ball.

Somewhere near your home there is probably a blank wall which can be used, for practice purposes, as a goal. Take the ball out, hit it against that wall, and as it comes back hit it again. The angles and the distance will vary, but keep at it, eyes on the ball, remembering all the time that to keep the shots low is a virtue. A goalkeeper covers much more space with his arms than he does with his legs. In this shooting practice, use both feet.

On the field of play the motto for the centre-forwards should be 'Shoot hard, shoot often'. The goals won't come all the time. Some of the shots will be stopped. But it is a certainty that the goals won't come at all unless the shots are duly delivered. Wembley spectators of the 1951 Cup Final will remember for a long time the shot from Jackie Milburn which registered the second goal for Newcastle United. He was well out from goal as the ball was put to him. Many centre-forwards would have tried to work it nearer. An opponent was approaching, however, so Milburn put everything he had behind the ball and it whizzed into the net - an unstoppable shot.

None of this is meant to encourage shooting from impossible angles, or shooting when the situation is hopeless. Scarcely ever in these days do I watch a game in which I don't see players - centre-forwards especially - who seem to imagine that it is possible to shoot a ball through an opponent. One of our up and coming centre-forwards, having been told to shoot hard and often, repeatedly falls into this error. Shoot if there is a chance of getting the ball home, but it is bad football to try to shoot through an opponent. The attempt should be made to beat him, or to get the ball to a player with a better chance of scoring.

Up to now I have dealt mainly with the finishing touches of the centre-forward's job. Obviously the centre-forward can't score goals unless he gets through himself - very difficult - or is put through by one of his colleagues - much easier. So we come to the helpers. Among the most serious of the troubles which assail the centre-forward is that he so often receives the ball - either through the air or close to the ground - when his back is turned to the goal he is attacking. And of course there is somebody else on the spot - the opposing centre-half.

If the ball is controllable, so far as the centre-forward is concerned, he may, if he is a clever ball player, beat the immediate opponent with a trick done on the turn. On these occasions, however, it is more profitable to use one or other of the inside forwards, who should be in a position to give assistance. One of the most effective scoring moves can be worked out in this way. The centre-forward receives the ball, say, thirty yards or so from goal. The centre-half is in close attendance, can't be dodged. The centre-forward makes the short pass back to an inside man. This may have the effect of taking the centre-half away. In any event the centre-forward has a much better chance of dodging that centre-half without the ball than he would have if he tried to take the ball with him. So he slips round the centre-half, using that burst of speed which is so essential, while the inside forward is pushing the ball through. The merit of this move lies in its slickness. Even if in the first place the centre-forward receives the ball to his head, rather than to his feet, he can, by nodding it downwards to his inside forward, often get the same effect.

Let there be no mistake about it, the centre-forward must be able to use his head for other purposes than mere thinking. The best centre-forward to head the ball in our time was William - 'Dixie' - Dean, who played for Everton and England. The records show him to have been a wonderful goal-scorer.

In a last match of the season against Arsenal, Dean scored three goals, bringing his total from League games for that season to the record figure of sixty. That happened about a quarter of a century ago. In the intervening years no centre-forward of a first-class club has got anywhere near to equalling that figure. Don't tell me that the reason for this is that as the years have gone by things have been made more and more difficult for the centre-forward. It is much nearer the truth to say that few players can head the ball as effectively as Dean. He got roughly half of his goals with his head. When the ball came over from the wings, through the air, Dean was a menace.

A little story may be told to illustrate the point. One Saturday afternoon the two Merseyside clubs - Liverpool and Everton - played a match. Liverpool had a great goalkeeper in those days - Elisha Scott. He made many saves from the Dean headers, but could not stop them all. On the evening of the same day Dean was walking along a street in Liverpool when he spotted Elisha Scott on the opposite pavement. In the Lancashire fashion, Dean nodded his head to Elisha by way of saying 'How do!' The response of Scott to the greeting was to throw himself full length on the pavement of the street.

The real point about Scott's attempt at a full-length save when Dean nodded, was that the goalkeeper knew the ball from Dean's head was likely to be nodded downwards. Watching a match last season I was delighted to see Len Duquemin score a fine goal for the Spurs with his head. He got well up to the ball as it came over from the wing, and from about twelve yards out nodded it down so that it struck the ground just inside the post before travelling on to the net. I remembered then the hours Duquemin had spent, while I was manager at Tottenham, learning to head the ball downwards. In his early days Duquemin was constantly getting the ball too high on his head to send it forward low enough to go under the bar. So out he went on to the practice pitch, with an outside man to send the ball across, time after time, with the sole object of teaching 'the Duke' to master the art of the downward header. There was an occasional burst nose as Duquemin made the effort, but eventually he learnt to get on top of the ball and to nod it downwards with his forehead. Some of our young centre-forwards - and even some who are very near the top of the tree - would get many more goals if they learnt how to head the ball downwards.

The ball must come over from the wings sometimes through the air, as that is the only way in which it can be got past the intervening defenders. The centre-forward will see to it that these outside wing men get the opportunities to put the ball across. The virtues of the short pass to the inside wing men have been extolled. Equally telling can be the sweeping pass to the outside right or the outside left. It opens up the attack, and often has the effect of drawing the defenders away from the middle. Having made the pass, the centre-forward should think about his position for the return pass, try to get clear of the opposition. It is just as important to dodge an opponent without the ball as it is to dodge him with the ball.

When Stanley Mortensen is playing at centre-forward for Blackpool, he repeatedly shows how this can be done. He starts the forward run while outside-right Matthews is still in possession of the ball; and he tries to get clear of the opposition. If the centre is an accurate one he is there to receive it - and there is a possible goal in the making.

That's the theory, to be on the move, making the effort to get clear of the opposition. Of course, it isn't easy. The battle of wits between the centre-forward and the opposing centre-half is always on. And by the way, when the talk turns to the scarcity of goals in these days, especially in relation to the scoring by centre-forwards, the point should not be overlooked that the centre-half is usually just as efficient at his own game - the stopping game - as is the centre-forward in his attacking role. That, however, doesn't provide an excuse for the centre.-forward to be on the losing side in this battle of wits.

No good purpose is served by the centre-forward standing around grumbling because the centre-half of the other team is always there. Take him for a walk - or a run. If he refuses to go for that walk or that run when the centre-forward moves away from the middle, that is something attempted, something done. The centre-half has been 'lost'. If he does follow, a step has been taken towards disorganising the general defensive line-up. Alternatively, fall back a bit, by way of a change; lure the centre-half away from his goal. For the centre-forward to give up is the unforgivable sin.

What I have said will bring readers to the conclusion that in my view the ideal centre-forward must be much more than the mere spearhead of the attack: the man for whom the other fellows make the scoring openings. He can make himself useful in many ways. Cliff Holton, who now plays in the middle of the Arsenal attack, is not yet the complete centre-forward. He may become that before very long. He deserves to, because he obviously gives thought and attention to bits of play which are not ordinarily considered a part of his centre-forward job. Let me illustrate by recalling an incident from the recent floodlight match between Arsenal and Glasgow Rangers. Holton wandered over to the wing in the way I have mentioned earlier. The ball went out of play over the side-line - a throw-in for Arsenal. Holton picked it up and made a tremendous throw - right into the Rangers goal area. There was Douglas Lishman, completely unmarked, in such a position that he was able to head the ball into the net at will and without any hindrance.

Why wasn't Lishman being watched by some Rangers player? The answer is that the length of the throw took everyone completely by surprise. Indeed, the players probably said to themselves, subconsciously, as they saw Holton preparing to take the throw: 'There won't be much to this because it's the centre-forward who is throwing the ball in'. They knew, we all know, that the centre-forward is not expected to be a champion thrower of the ball from the touch-line. In his spare moments, however, Holton had practised the long throw. That practice of one of the arts of football which had really no concern with his general position and play, brought its reward in the shape of that match-winning goal.

I have a very clear, composite picture of the make-up of the ideal centre-forward for modern football. He will have the craft and the art of leadership of Tommy Lawton. He will have the finishing power, with his head, of 'Dixie' Dean. He will have the power of foot of Jackie Milburn, plus the dash of strong man Ted Drake. He will have the speed of Stan Mortensen to dart through the middle. He must be full of determination, too. He must have never-say die spirit which inspires him to chase the forlorn hopes.

There are other points in this picture which my imagination paints of a centre-forward. So many accomplishments required of one player! Perhaps it is a hopeless ideal, perhaps in asking for so many qualifications in one player I am asking for the moon and the stars as well. I am certainly putting a finger on the reason why the hunt for the men in the middle who can do it all still goes on.

Yet the final - the supreme - test lies in the answer to the question: Can he score goals? That has been the test in the past; it is the test in the present, and I take it will be the test in the future. If the centre-forward can get the goals, the goals by which matches are won, everything else is readily forgiven. Who am I to say that it isn't right that this should be true?

Still very fresh in our minds is the sensational entry into first-class football of Derek Dooley. Lots of things were said about his shortcomings as a footballer. That he was clumsy. That he lacked finesse and ball control. Because of those shortcomings he was kept in the reserve side despite the fact that he was scoring goals, the opinion being held that he wouldn't be able to do as much against more experienced opponents. But he did get the goals for Sheffield Wednesday - two, three, and sometimes even four in a match. He got them because he could hit the ball hard with both feet, as well as with his head. All else was forgotten and forgiven!

We can dream our dreams of the ideal centre-forward, but the first lesson for all the dreaming centre-forwards is taught by Derek Dooley, learn how to score goals.