In the not too distant future, the Three Lions might be looking for a new boss.
Consider it as the required stop at a highway rest area before starting a long-awaited road trip, or as a cup of porridge the morning of a spectacular anniversary dinner.
Tuesday night’s exhibition game between England and Scotland is scheduled to commemorate their animosity for one another for the past 150 years.
Tartan and banana skins will cover Hampden Park. However, the Three Lions will first have to deal with the much more commonplace solemnity of a European match Due to Putin’s egotistical nature, a championship qualifier against Ukraine was played on Saturday in Poland.
This is the kind of match that England has typically breezed through with ease. With the odd and infrequent exception, the national team has never really faced difficulty entering big competitions.
There have been countless thrashings of Eastern European minnows that build up like stray Lego bricks to assemble spotless qualification campaigns for every wally with a brolly. The Three Lions are already doing well this time around with four wins and four losses and 15 goals for and one goal against.
Gareth Southgate may be considering leaving his position as England manager after next summer’s Euros, according to reports from earlier in the week, regardless of whether or not he finally delivers on his promise of long-awaited international silverware. However, it is unclear how many of these amicable matches Southgate personally has left in him.
Who would actually succeed Southgate is the most apparent question raised by these most recent mutterings, assuming Pep is still fully functional by this time next year. As a result, several philosophical discussions concerning pragmatism, aestheticism, and the waste of golden generations ensue.
I don’t really want to delve into it right now because it is so monotonous and endless, but I do want to casually throw out a few names that, in my lousy opinion, ought to be considered.
Sarina Wiegman comes first. Now the usual suspects might turn their heads. The Dutch coach’s impact on England’s women’s team has been nothing short of revolutionary since he assumed over. gloriously so, even. If not for a disappointing performance in the World Cup final a few weeks ago,
The Lionesses would be the current world and European champions. Here she is if you want a winner. Here she is if you want a manager who values attractive, aggressive football. As you could have imagined, she is here if you need a logical leader who is able to adjust tactical principles as needed.
Of course, it would be unprecedented to nominate a woman to such a high position in the men’s game. However, why should that stop it from occurring? In all actuality, managing a football team is no different from playing chess or assembling an IKEA flat-pack wardrobe. It’s about using your brain and solving puzzles, with a tiny bit of advice counseling thrown in. Wiegman has shown she has the skills in spades during her time with the Lionesses, and naturally, she already has a good working connection with the FA to boot.
But why should we see the women’s game as nothing more than a stepping stone to access its male equivalent if the same criteria that determine her fitness for the position? Simply put, we shouldn’t is the answer. If Wiegman is accessible when Southgate decides to end the match, then perhaps she merits a chance. Move on and consider other candidates if she isn’t.
There are other contenders, such as Graham Potter. Please bear with me. I am not a naive fool; I am aware of how disastrous the former Brighton manager’s time at Chelsea was, and I am aware that his ill-fated stay in west London has seriously damaged his reputation, BUT.
For starters, I believe it would have been challenging for God Almighty, Brian Clough’s ghost, and Alexander the Great to make any type of real progress with that bloated, disconnected Chelsea team last season. There are poisoned chalices and whatever witches’ concoction Todd Boehly is chugging during his sad hour at Stamford Bridge.
Another point is that a career is not made by one terrible job. In every other place he has been, Potter has performed miracles of various importance. For instance, Roberto De Zerbi has Brighton soaring, but the foundation that everyone’s favorite am-dram ballet director built for him has made the Italian’s mission on the south coast immeasurably easier.
As far as I can tell, Potter fulfills a crucial trifecta of requirements for eligibility: he plays the right kind of football (whatever that means), he significantly improves the players who are given to him, and he has a birth certificate that will, at least temporarily, placate the Al Murray impersonators with their bulldog forearm tattoos and Winston Churchill profile pictures. By the way, the significance of that final point is directly tied to how much it disturbs your sleep to realize that Saint George was actually Turkish.
Nevertheless, despite the skeleton (singular) in his closet, Potter might very well be the right candidate. There are some who would need persuading, undoubtedly, but I ask them: What had Gareth Southgate actually accomplished before donning the waistcoat?
