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28
Thu, Mar

Typography

To the thousands of fans who travelled to the city of Nashville in Tennessee, the pain of defeat was difficult to comprehend. To the Soca Warriors supporters at home, they may also have been disappointed and even coerced themselves into believing that the conditions were not conducive to a better performance. In my case, my expectations are often based upon assessments of play on the field in matches prior to the one that was played. Not knowing much of the work done during the few practice sessions, it would be folly to challenge the coaching staff selection process, except for the superficial thought of local knowledge of the players.

My concern started many months ago, and at the end of every match, the picture seemed more blurred than before, not only the results, but the actual performance levels which fluctuated from minute to minute in each game. Surely, like every other analyst, I attempted to review the selection process and the systems of play which were used, and in so doing, tried to literally put names to positions and evaluate formulas of which my proposed players would be capable of playing. Having six hours of flying time and some “nothing to do” time in an airport, the exercise of searching for a path to a fine performance of this team and of course, eventual success, was a serious task.

When I realised that the good Lord was kind enough to save us from any cold weather and the field conditions could have offered either team any type of advantage, my Wednesday morning in the musical city of Nashville was sending a message of hope, even stronger than my predictions.
The team selection was my first cause for stuttering, as it brought forcefully to me a picture which was far different from the one which I had drawn, in terms of who should play where and the reasons for my thoughts. To that point, I was disciplined enough to respect the decisions of the coaching staff without any reservations. The hour which was spent watching the players in their warm up pre match session, often helps me to make a final analyst of the selected players. My sympathy immediately went to Clayton Ince whose sister was serious ill at nine in the morning and dead at six in the afternoon. I felt the guy’s pain, despite his strength and determination to carry on his job as a professional.

After having saved my expectations for actual playtime, it took about ten minutes to realise that our game was about to be an open approach, with players having their regular duties in the way that they were given in past matches. However, the Yanks clearly came with some preconceived ideas which catered for the byeline runs from our Carlos Edwards to be reduced by the presence of Damarcus Beasley, while the American’s smartest player Paulo Mastroeni took care of business by being the first defender to any ball which was directed to either Kenwyne Jones or Stern John.

It was also very easy to see that the Yanks had decided to make full use of the vulnerability of Keon Daniel and Aklie Edwards, both of whom had limited knowledge of their defensive responsibilities, especially when there is a super attacking wing defense in Frankie Hedjuk making inroads to the right flank and sending crosses to two strikers and two rushing midfielders. We lost points on structural play and it appeared to me that there was little by way of planning specially to play the type of game which would retard America’s progress. And when Anthony Wolfe decided that he would move in support of Carlos Edwards to get down the flank, it dawned on me that the youngster does not understand his defensive role. The result was that Bradley and Donovan recognised the free real estate behind Wolfe’s back and rushed to receive a counter attack pass from their defense.

Bradley flicked it over an onrushing Keyno Thomas’ head for Donovan to smartly pick up, run to the bye line, attracted Lawrence to approach him. The Warriors defense was as open as a door, and Altidore just casually placed Donovan’s low pass into an open goal. Surely, I expected that the next move was to ensure that this does not occur again. Instead, what I saw to my absolute surprise was a sudden attempt to reorganise in defense for any similar US attack. This brought a chaotic formula from a midfield which was already void of creative ideas and now losing their shape to facilitate a simple tactical mistake.

By then, one may have been inclined to challenge the instructions which may have come from the bench, but that was only because my emotions were being tested and the reality check which seemed more obvious, began to waver. I watched and watched and watched, awaiting some adjustments to our playing methods. Despite the fact that we showed some short spells of productive moves, they did not overshadow the naivety of players whose lives have been based upon this great game, which they received enormous sums of money to play. As the game continued, my focus stuck on the commitment and dedication which should have been present in every player wearing the colours of red, white and black.

And just in case they forgot what their energies meant to the thousands of Trinbagonians who travelled hundreds of miles to offer their support, all they had to do was look into the stands for a short moment. This was not about a coach anymore, and for those who wish to go in search of a scapegoat, they are blinkered and living in an absolutely false world. The job of a coach is not to score goals, nor to kick corners or anything on the field. He is there to guide and advise his charges to an approach which will bring some level of productivity to the team.

My support continues, but my demand is high.