Erik Niva
This is a commenting text. Analysis and positions are the writer’s.
FOXBOROUGH. The Experiment: Close the surfaces and see what remains of the vaunted English offensive.
The outcome: Not much at all.
Djed Spence refuses to shake hands with Thomas Partey, and in the minutes before kick-off the temperature rises in the muggy Massachusetts weather that frames England and Ghana.
Then the whistle blows, and then the wet blanket of heaven descends over the match.
No free heat here.
Carlos Quieroz completed his first real training session as Ghana’s national team captain less than three weeks ago, but it appears he has been coaching the team for years.
This Ghana already bears the clear hallmark of Quieroz, this is how he has fielded teams against superior opponents for decades. At least ten men behind the ball, the team compact and tight as an unstitched snakeskin.
There are no areas in the center at all. As soon as Harry Kane or Jude Bellingham get the ball, they are surrounded by five, six players.
The can openers on the edges are not sharp enough. Neither Nodi Madueke nor Anthony Gordon are thinking outsiders, players who can trick and play rather than run. Now they mostly just rush blindly, steered down the Ghanaian dead ends
The only times England actually get past any opposition lines in the first half of the game is when Declan Rice breaks through them at raw strength.
Not a single shot on target in the first half, not a single finish of any real value.
Could have been worse
On weekdays, Ghana goalkeeper Benjamin Asare plays for Hearts of Oak in Africa’s 14th highest ranked league. He has had sweatier matches than this against Young Apostles and Bibiani Goldstars.
Half a game goes by. One hour.
The first changes come after 65 minutes, but apart from Bukayo Saka, it suddenly looks rather sparse with constructiveness on the English bench.
There is no Cole Palmer, no Phil Foden, no Morgan Gibbs-White, no Adam Wharton and no Trent Alexander-Arnold.
The creativity cavalry comes another ten minutes later, Morgan Rogers and Eberechi Eze. By then, the pace has been further slowed by a water break in Blackpool weather, 19 degrees and driving rain.
It could have been worse.
Twice a conversion-running Prince Kwabena Adu causes England to hiccup, but both ball handling and refereeing go against him. Jordan Pickford could have been sent off, and Ezri Konsa getting away with a penalty appears rather incomprehensible.
Finally, Tuchel throws in Marcus Rashford as well, finishing the match with a sort of 4-1-2-3 formation. It will be a quarter of forcing football, chaos football.
Too little. Late.
Enthusiasm killer
Nico O’Reilly heads the crossbar, and the rebound drops in front of Harry Kane. Goals nine days out of ten, but on this particular day the Ghanaian witch doctor Nana Kwaku Bonsam had pronounced a curse on Kane’s goal shooting.
Ball over, game over.
The Ghanaian team forms a ring in the center circle. Benjamin Asare of Africa’s 14th-highest-ranked league drops to his knees in the middle, leading his teammates through a lengthy prayer.
The English players thank their more than 50,000 supporters on site. This day they may sing no triumphant “Sweet Caroline,” the ballad that was taken from Boston across the ocean and back.
Not a disaster, of course, but an underachievement and an enthusiasm killer. It would not be this easy to slow down a star-studded English national team on the other side of Gareth Southgate.
The World Cup’s least content-rich match so far was mostly reminiscent of a long and drawn-out training session, static attack against low defence. Thomas Tuchel’s team completed the session without any great energy or sharpness.
