Rob Smyth's Blog, page 187

South Africa v Australia: day four – as it happened

Over-by-over report: The awesome Mitchell Johnson took career-best figures of 12 for 127 as Australia destroyed South Africa by 281 runs

Alex McClintockRob Smyth

The Joy of Six: football crosses | Rob Smyth

The art of putting the ball in the box has been much maligned lately. Here's a reminder of how effective and beautiful it can be

1) Marius Lacatus, Romania 1-1 Argentina, Italia 90

Crossing is a funny old part of the game. It is a percentage tactic, yet those percentages aren't particularly good; only around one in five crosses are accurate. Most crosses, particularly from near the touchline, are not played with a specific team-mate in mind. That's only logical. All you see are a few moving dots in the distance; it is essentially a 40-yard pass, often with defenders in the way, and not everybody can be Paul Scholes or Diego Maradona. So most crossers, like fast bowlers, aim to hit a general area and do a bit with the ball, be it dip, swerve, pace or whatever. That in itself takes considerable skill, and thus it is not right to dismiss crossing as a primitive tactic.

If it is ostensibly odd to place so much faith in something so imprecise, it may simply be that, in terms of success, crosses compare favourably to other tactics in the final fifth of the pitch: the long shot, the killer pass and the dribble. It's certainly the case that nothing has the capacity to disorientate a defence quite like an effective cross. Take Marius Lacatus's against Argentina at Italia 90, which created the goal that put a good Romania side into the second round of a World Cup for the first time. From near the touchline, Lacatus delivered a growling far-post cross which sparked such havoc that Gavril Balint was able to equalise with a deceptively good header before you could say "What's the Romanian for 'put it in the fakkin mixer?'"

There is something uniquely compelling about the deep cross, perhaps because of the ball's extra hang time. Oldham's Rick Holden was the galumphing king of the back-post boomer: he threw his entire being into crosses, following through to such an extent that it's a surprise he didn't pull 14 different muscles every time.

2) Aron Winter, Holland 3-1 Germany, Euro 92

For all that, a small proportion of crosses are undoubtedly passes. Andy Cole produced a gorgeous half-volleyed example in Manchester United's epic European Cup semi-final victory over Juventus 15 years ago, a game in which Tuttosport gave Cole rather than Roy Keane the Man of the Match award. There are head-up cutbacks, such as Robert Pires's to win Euro 2000, and quick square passes as with this simple Danish move.

Then there's this delightfully clean Holland goal at Euro 92, with Aron Winter combining two sub-genres: the cross as pass and the chipped cross. In a couple of seconds, having almost been knocked off his feet, Winter calculates that the only feasible option is a pass to Dennis Bergkamp, that the pass must be lofted because of the position of the covering Thomas Helmer, that it's Bergkamp arriving so he can trust him to take on a difficult first-time header from 12 yards, and that it's the bloody Germans so it would quite nice to score here. It's an unobtrusively supreme demonstration of quick wit and technique. Winter flips it over Helmer's head, and Bergkamp arrives dramatically from out of shot to plant a superb header into the net.

3) David Beckham, Real Madrid 4-0 Real Zaragoza, Copa del Rey 2005-06

There is a paradox surrounding the career of David Beckham. Many people go out of their way, sometimes aggressively, to assert he was not a great footballer, yet nobody disputes he was a great crosser and perhaps the greatest of all time. (Ordinarily we resent the assumption that the best of modern times is the best of all time, but given the developments in technique and football boots it's hard to believe anyone has made the ball talk quite as Beckham did.) Given the fundamental nature of crossing, it's hard to reconcile those observations. It might be that crossing is seen as a blue-collar skill – an observation Beckham apparently shared, given his desire to join the perceived artists in centre-midfield – though that could only be a partial explanation.

"His crossing [was] unparalleled regardless of variables: hooked, lobbed, whipped, chipped, driven, lifted or curled, bouncing or dead, looped or flat, and from any conceivable body position," wrote Daniel Harris in his book on Manchester United's treble. That was the thing with Beckham: he had one trick, but he had so many different ways of demonstrating that trick that it was extremely difficult to stop, especially as he didn't need to beat his man to get a cross in. He was a dead-ball specialist and also a dying-ball specialist: although Beckham was equally happy with a languid, lean-back sidefoot on the run or a dainty chip, his signature crosses in open play involved a ball that was barely moving, which allowed him to use the same technique as with corners and free-kicks.

That technique was as unique as Michael Johnson's running style or Muttiah Muralitharan's bowling action. Beckham's body shape was like a badly drawn stick man. Left arm sticking out like a lollipop lady's; right arm down by his side; standing foot planted at 45 degrees very close to the ball – very important this, we suspect, though we haven't a clue why – and right foot stretched back as far as possible in preparation to come through the ball like a lumberjack's axe. (Tom Cleverley once copied that technique to great effect, though we've no idea what the moral of that particular story might be.)

We could easily have made this the Joy of Six: David Beckham crosses. Let's settle for three. This is the definition of undefendable; this gathers pace and takes on a life of its own in mid-flight; and this homing missile to Ronaldo is simply the most ridiculous cross/pass we will see even if we live to 271. Real had lost the first leg of their semi-final to Real Zaragoza 6-1. This put them 3-0 up inside 10 minutes of the return; they eventually won 4-0 and went out 6-5 on aggregate. The match almost went into Real folklore. The cross that created the third goal will always be a YouTube staple; it currently has over 16 million views.

4) Jason McAteer, Liverpool 4-3 Newcastle, Premier League 1995-96

There were many sub-genres of cross we wanted to prattle on about. The stand-up. The cross that becomes famous for what follows. The first-time cross . The accidental goal. The deliberate goal. The cross from an apparently impossible position that inadvertently catalyses the most miserable month of your career. The driven cross. The scoop, as eerily homaged by Aaron Ramsey this season. The headed cross. The rabona. The Bébé.

This isn't the Joy of Eighteen, however, and we're already done enough to irritate the poor person who has to put in all these hyperlinks, so let's move straight to another sub-genre: the cross into the corridor of uncertainty. Luís Figo gave an immaculate demonstration in his final World Cup game, as did Steve Hodge 20 years earlier. There's also this Barry Davies-approved peach from Don Goodman, and a stunning no-look flick from the days when Wayne Rooney was good.

But we've selected one from Jason McAteer as part of our six. The greatest Premier League game of all was a good one for crosses. In the second minute Stan Collymore gave another reminder of the formidable two-footedness that made him the most naturally talented of England's brilliant crop of mid-90s centre-forwards. (Yes, we do include Alan Shearer in that. Shearer was an all-time great and Collymore, sadly, an also-ran, but it shouldn't need explaining that natural talent and achievement are two different things entirely.) Then, with Liverpool 3-2 down, Collymore benefited from an even better cross by McAteer, curved into an area where defenders and goalkeepers don't know whether to stick, twist, phone a friend or start crying. McAteer isn't always the smartest bloke, as one particular pizza company could confirm, but this particular cross had an IQ of about 175.

5) Luka Modric, Spain 1-0 Croatia, Euro 2012

The outside of the foot is the exclusive domain of the classy footballer. Did you ever see poor old Ade Akinbiyi use the outside of his foot? Exactly. If Andy Gray says it's the hardest cross in the game, that's good enough for us. When the Joy of Six was growing up, the outside of the foot came just behind our RE teacher and those strange hairs on the list of otherworldly fascinations. Entirely fictitious research shows that, in English football between 1985 and 1990, only four out of 987,129 passes were played with the outside of the foot, all of which went out for a throw-in. English football, left to its own devices by the rest of Europe, regressed to a level of thoroughly endearing crapness. An outside-of-the-foot pass was so unusual and continental that anyone who tried it risked being booked for ungentlemanly conduct.

All of which is why we wanted to use Mark Hughes's criminally under-appreciated Fergie-saving pass as one of our six, until we watched it again and realised we couldn't quite justify it as a cross. So instead here's Luka Modric against the Spanish Art Project at Euro 2012, part of a masterful individual performance against the world's best team. It's the kind of cross journalists are contractually obliged to describe as "insouciant", and gave the flying Ivan Rakitic a great chance to put Spain on the brink of a humiliating early exit from Euro 2012. As with all outside-of-the-foot crosses, the implicit assertion of technical superiority – the good kind of arrogance - was central to its appeal. Not any old Tom, Dick or Ade can pull this off.

6) Peter Reid, Everton 4-1 Sunderland, Division One, 1985

The School of Science has been the home of some educated feet down the years, especially on the wings. Dave Thomas deserved a significant cut of the £10,000 that Bob Latchford received from the Daily Express for scoring 30 league goals in 1977-78, while Andy Hinchcliffe's crossing could drive grown men to strip in public. But neither of them produced anything quite as memorable as this, the defining moment of Everton's greatest side.

It's occasionally forgotten just how good that Everton team was. After losing their first two league games, they went on a run of 27 wins in 36 games – a murderous, almost unprecedented run of form in the days when the top flight was a competition in nature as well as name. The title was all but sealed in the first week of April. After a Neville Southall-inspired 2-1 win away to their closest rivals Spurs on the Wednesday, they slaughtered Sunderland 4-1 three days later. The phrase "power team" is often seen as faint praise yet it is anything but. It is the most appropriate description for West Germany in 1990, the greatest World Cup winners of the last 40 years, and for an Everton side who were surely the best in Europe in 1985.

After Sunderland made the innocent mistake of scoring a goal, Everton savaged them like rabid dogs. Soon they were level with a goal that was decisive and devastating. Peter Reid, the PFA Player of the Year that season, slipped his man and sidefooted a fierce cross to the near post, where Andy Gray – a man who never used his feet when the noggin was an option – applied a majestic diving Glasgow kiss. The goal, and the performance, became even more memorable because the game was shown on Match of the Day, a rare and powerful thing in those days. "Reid's cross – GRAY!" became a staple of the playground commentator.

It's a type of goal we hardly see at the top level any more: primal, caked in mud and reeking of testosterone. Just as Tony Soprano lamented the death of the Gary Cooper type, so the Joy of Six regularly asks its therapist: whatever happened to Mick Harford? Wingers are inverted (this isn't new – the visionary Sepp Piontek did it with Denmark in the 1980s, and Bobby Robson did it in the Italia 90 semi-final – just more common), nines are false (this isn't new either – the visionary Alex Ferguson did it in the late 1970s at Morton – just more common), boots are unchalked, strikers' noses unbroken, and kids no longer want to be Brian Talbot. The hipsters don't like crossing; nor, increasingly, do the managers. Whether it is dying or out of fashion, we don't really know. If it's the former, it will be missed. Can we not knock it in the mixer?

• With thanks to Cris Freddi, Daniel Harris, Mike Gibbons and Gary Naylor

• Rob Smyth is the co-author of Danish Dynamite and And Gazza Misses the Final

David BeckhamRob Smyth
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Atlético Madrid v Real Madrid – as it happened | Rob Smyth

Minute-by-minute report: Real lead 3-0 after the Copa del Rey semi-final first leg, but will Atlético hit back? Find out with Rob Smyth

Rob Smyth

Sochi 2014: Winter Olympics day two – as it happened

For the first time ever Great Britain won an Olympic medal in a snow-based event, while Russia grabbed their first gold of the Games

Rob SmythSimon Burnton

Sochi 2014: Winter Olympics day two – live!

Join Rob Smyth now for all of the latest updates on the second day of competition in Sochi

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Sochi 2014: Winter Olympics day one – as it happened

The Games are under way. Follow all of the opening day’s action from Russia, with our live updates

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The Fiver | Good old-fashioned pettiness and spite

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DIY

The Fiver has always believed that subtlety is unnecessary. When we go to them foreign countries and our stomach is groaning like a yawning sea monster, we bellow "DOUBLE WHOPPER MEAL, NO GHERKINS, YEAH? " at the nearest person. When we see a potential Fiverette, we fix her with a bulbous-eyed, dead-faced stare that makes it abundantly clear we want to make beautiful little Fivers, and when we have an accident at work we simply scream WAHHHHHHHHHHH until somebody arrives with a mop.

So we were pretty impressed with today's news of a plan about as subtle as Gareth Keenan's sledgehammer, in which a team reportedly scored eight own goals in 10 minutes during a regional cup match. Frank Sinclair, Wes Brown and Jamie Carragher can't see what all the fuss is about, but elsewhere the MF word has been tentatively mentioned. It's a good job it didn't happen in Italy or people would have been really suspicious.

Oh. What happened was this. Bagheria needed to draw against Borgata Terrenove to get through their three-team Coppa Sicilia group in a regional match in Italy. When they went 6-3 down with 10 minutes to go, they started hoofing the ball into their own net. It seems this was not a case of bribery but good old-fashioned pettiness and spite. By scoring eight own goals, Bagheria ensured Borgata qualified on goal difference ahead of Partinicaudace. Confused? Splendid, now lie down on the couch, relax your shoulders and tell us about mother.

"I can guarantee there was no agreement between us and Bagheria," said Giovanni Cammarata, who is reported as being the coach of Partinicaudace but must surely be the coach of Bagheria given the nature of his comment. After all why would Partinicaudace have to deny having an agreement with Bagheria? We're confused now LOOK WE DON'T WANT TO MAKE LITTLE FIVERS WITH MOTHER FIVER OK.

Sandro Morgana, the regional president of the Italian football federation, has got his best men on the case. "I will personally inform our prosecutors about this," he said without any self-importance whatsoever, "and they will look into the case and establish which sanctions should apply." Whether that could be fines, bans or even a stint in the clink is unclear. One thing is clear, though: the Bagheria players really didn't think this through, did they?

QUOTE OF THE DAY

"It took me a long time to understand the song they sing about me, that it was not them trying to bully me. People explained to me that it was more an expression of love" – Per Mertesacker explains how he's now on board with Arsenal fans' Big [Effing] German chant in this exclusive chat with David Hytner.

FIVER LETTERS

"So, apparently, a man in India has travelled 1,056 miles for a 'bogus' prize. A true pedant would have gone the extra mile to counteract the hoax" – Josh Cryer.

"Re: (Adrian) Chiles play (yesterday's Fiver). As your example of an ITV viewer who emailed in their request for a fiver, and the Fiver apparently emailed in a request for a fiver – both of which should be ignored. Your own journalism stated: '… any viewers that hadn't fallen asleep to write him a letter and he'd send them £5.' Note the word 'letter' not 'email'. No apologies for being a pedantic so and so" – Simon Burke.

"Adrian Chiles has joined the pantheon of cultural celebrity forces who can single-handedly change our language. Before his flippant televisual comment, the use of the term 'fiver' signified an unfunny, tea-timely email. Now, it just refers to anything unfunny. And slightly lumpy" – Mike Wilner (and others).

"As a counterbalance to this infernal Wetherspoon's love-in (Fiver letters passim), here is some traditional Fiver letters hyperbole: JD and his homogenised quaff barns are to drinking what Sepp and his global monstrosity are to football. Both have taken a traditional pastime from the control of local communities/countries and smilingly sold it back to them in the form of sterilised omniscience. They're zookeepers who've dressed all their animals up to look like lions because, well, everybody likes lions, don't they?" – Richard Robinson.

• Send your letters to the.boss@theguardian.com. And if you've nothing better to do you can also tweet the Fiver. Today's winner of our prizeless letter o' the day is: Josh Cryer.

JOIN GUARDIAN SOULMATES

We keep trying to point out the utter futility of advertising an online dating service "for interesting people" in the Fiver to the naive folk who run Guardian Soulmates, but they still aren't having any of it. So here you go – sign up here to view profiles of the kind of erudite, sociable and friendly romantics who would never dream of going out with you.

BITS AND BOBS

Franck Ribéry is doubtful for Bayern Munich's Big Cup first leg against Arsenal on 19 February due to a nasty case of … wait for it, you're going to like this one … burst-blood-vessel-in-the-tail knack! "Surgery became necessary at short notice because bruising associated with the damage was affecting a nerve," said a bummed club suit.

Manchester United's Nemanja Vidic has decided to do one before David Moyes's wobbly Jenga tower falls over. "It was something that we all mutually agreed together," wept the United boss.

The ref who sent Him off for standing near Athletic Bilbao's Carlos Gurpegui has been handed a month's hobby-time by the Spanish FA, though His three-match ban has still been upheld.

Newcastle reserve boss Willie Donachie has resigned after allegedly giving 19-year-old defender Remie Street a close-up view of his knuckles.

Ajax boss Frank de Boer has fluttered his eyelashes at Liverpool and Spurs. "Those are clubs that I think in the future I could be a manager of. I think the history of the clubs and what you can do with the team is my cup of tea," he milk-and-two-sugared.

And good news for Adam Johnson's empty mantelpiece: he's won the Premier League player of the month award.

STILL WANT MORE?

Rob Smyth and Paul Doyle picked out 10 things to look out for in the Premier League this weekend so you don't have to.

Blackeye Rovers goalkeeper Paul Robinson actually had a black eye in this interview with Andy Hunter, in which he recalls how he is enjoying football more than ever after a brush with death.

The Gentleman Ultra dons his cravat and profiles Catania. His verdict? Violent, beautiful and loud.

The modern football lover can embrace stats without ruining the romance of the game, coos Sanjit Atwal.

Oh, and if it's your thing, you can follow Big Website on Big Social FaceSpace.

SIGN UP TO THE FIVER (AND O FIVERÃO)

Want your very own copy of our free tea-timely(ish) email sent direct to your inbox? Has your regular copy stopped arriving? Click here to sign up. And you can also now receive our weekly World Cup email, O Fiverão; this is the first edition, and you can sign up for it here.

'HOW CAN AN AIR BOAT BE SELFISH?'Rob Smyth
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Football transfer rumours: Hugo Lloris to PSG?

Today's piffle is not that good at breathing in

It's not exactly a bumper crop of rumours today, so let's get this done as painlessly as possible. Dictionary-definition hunk and sometime footballer Edinson Cavani could be heading for the Premier League. We knew this yesterday, and the day before, but the story continues to drain the will to liv- sorry, to enthral fans of hypothetical transfers. Reports suggest Cavani's people are in London meeting somebody else's people – probably Chelsea's – to discuss a £54m move from PSG.

PSG, meanwhile, have found a spare £16.5m down the back of the sofa and would like to spend it on concussion-defying sweeper-keeper Hugo Lloris.

Brendan Rodgers is planning a bid for Al-Ain winger Omar Abdulrahman, who will therefore join Chelsea for £5m.

It's all Kevin Pietersen's fault.

The Juventus manager Antonio Conte has literally invited his Manchester City counterpart Manuel Pellegrini to a televised sumo-wrestle to decide which club signs Porto's Fernando.

Real Madrid want Mauricio Pochettino to replace adorable charlatan Carlo Ancelotti.

It's all Alastair Cook's fault.

David Moyes's negligent failure to stop the decay of Manchester United's squad in the last five years was further highlighted by the announcement that Nemanja Vidic is to leave in the summer. The fans of Internazionale are early favourites to be making banterlicious Vidic/Chuck Norris jokes next season.

Sir Alex Ferguson, frustrated by Moyes's neglect of the United midfield, is going to sign Ilkay Gundogan with his own money and give him to United.

Newcastle want to sign Metz's Senegalese striker Diafra Sakho or, as Joe Kinnear calls him, Diaphragm Sicko.

Liverpool, Chelsea, Arsenal and Manchester City all want Marseille's 16-year-old Maxime Lopez, who, it says here, will be really good on the next edition of Football Manager.

Transfer windowRob Smyth
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Premier League: 10 things to look out for this weekend | Paul Doyle and Rob Smyth

Can Fulham turn it around, José Mourinho's majesty, Arsenal's daunting run and snakes and ladders at the foot of the table

1) Are Fulham building an ark of triumph?

René Meulensteen famously asked his players to visualise themselves as animals, which makes one wonder what animal he himself most resembles. Some endangered species, obviously. Or perhaps an emu, since the waning powers of Damien Duff mean Meulensteen does not have wings of any use (and he also got a fisting by Hull). A lack of width has been far from Fulham's only problem, of course: their manager is a Dutchman who was given a dyke riddled with holes and he has found that plugging just one or two of them has seldom been enough. As a result, his team has generally been as weak a mishmash as this paragraph's metaphors. But in January he sought to bring much-needed balance, energy and firepower and at Old Trafford we will get the first indication as to whether the hasty repair job will be sufficient to save Fulham. And Kostas Mitroglu will get the first indication as to whether he is likely to be given enough opportunities to show how lethal a striker he can be. PD

2) Majestic Mourinho

José Mourinho spent six months sulking about not getting the job he craved, and which he believed was his destiny. His early-season public relations were so transparent that a child could have seen through them. Now, invigorated by the whiff of a winnable title race and a squad he is starting to recognise, he really is The Happy One. Mourinho has been in his element of late, magnetic and majestic during press conferences, while his victory over Manuel Pellegrini was almost comically emphatic. He has the air of a puppeteer, fiddling with the title race as he pleases and flicking subliminal V signs to the rest of the football country. Look out for more during or after the match against Newcastle. When Mourinho is at his best – and he is bang in form right now – every gesture and every syllable serves a greater purpose. RS

• Mourinho: masseur's team talk helped Chelsea beat City

3) Who will be England's latest World Cup saviour?

So every Monday some unlikely player has to be hailed as the missing link in Roy Hodgson's World Cup squad, the man whose late surge for a call-up could be the difference between a sorry first-round exit by England and a sorry quarter-final exit. Bandwagons have already been launched to support the candidacies of Tom Huddlestone, Andros Townsend, Gareth Barry and Adam Johnson. Who will it be after the latest round of fixtures? How long before someone suggests that Hodgson should have a proper look at that Tom Cleverley? Oh wait … PD

4) Check out Southampton's midfield linchpin

Jack Cork for England! OK, perhaps not, but Cork should certainly start more regularly for Southampton. Victor Wanyama was re-introduced to the side prematurely last week after injury and it was only when Cork came on at half-time that Southampton began to take Fulham apart. He may not be quite as dynamic as Wanyama is (when fully fit) but Cork is not sluggish and is a far more careful and canny passer. He and Morgan Schneiderlin can lay the foundation for victory over Stoke this week. Oh, and Schneiderlin for France! PD

5) Arsenal cannot afford a losing draw

Beware the day after the Ides of March. On 16 March Arsenal begin a run of four consecutive league games against Spurs (A), Chelsea (A), Man City (H) and Everton (A). If they are to have a chance of becoming the most unlikely title winners since Leeds in 1991-92, they may need to win all five matches before then – especially as Chelsea and City look a decent bet to win their next six league games.

Arsène Wenger knows about the unforgiving pace of a title race; his team won 10 in a row to clinch the title in 1997-98 and 13 in a row at the back end of 2001-02. Ordinarily a draw at Liverpool would be a good result, especially as Luis Suárez will be desperate to bite the hand that wanted to feed him, but draws are the new defeats for teams aspiring to the title. There is an increasing sense that Arsenal need three points if they are to disprove those who have smugly dismissed them as a deluxe version of Norwich 1992-93, pacemakers set to drop out on the final lap. RS

• Wenger: no regrets about Suárez
• Video: Arsenal are prepared for title battle, says Wenger
• Liverpool v Arsenal: why the Reds should worry
• Lewandowski: 'Szczesny tried to get me to sign'
• Paul Wilson: Suárez can push Liverpool higher
• Andy Hunter: Liverpool confident in ending Arsenal run

6) Will Moyes play his Fab Four?

Manchester United's squad is more suited to a romantic like Ossie Ardiles, not a pragmatist like David Moyes. With the possible exception of David de Gea their four best players are attackers, yet Moyes is not really in the business of playing anything resembling a 4-2-4. If he cannot find a way to include Robin van Persie, Wayne Rooney, Adnan Januzaj and Juan Mata at home to a team as poor as Fulham, he never will.

Mata was a panic buy. There is no shame in that – the greatest signing in football history, Eric Cantona, was the ultimate panic buy – yet there are concerns as to how Moyes will use all four players. Januzaj has easily been the highlight of United's season, despite the excessive praise for Rooney's efficiency and endeavour. It is not just that Januzaj needs a decent amount of game time; it is that Moyes needs the reflected goodwill that comes from Januzaj's performances. RS

• Vidic says he will leave Manchester United in summer
• United's Fletcher admits he is lucky to be playing again

7) Tottenham and Toffees in rare interesting match

Everton and Spurs, two of the biggest clubs in the land, yet it has been well over a decade since they faced other in a league match that even neutrals looked forward to. Back in April 1998 they went head-to-head in a highly-fraught relegation battle, this time they meet at White Hart Lane in a match that could go a long way to establishing which of them has the goods to sustain a challenge for a Champions League spot. If either team loses this, they will be almost out of the running. This promises to be fun. PD

8) Are Norwich just going to take a Manchester City backlash?

When it comes to style clashes, it is hard to beat Wenger v Sam Allardyce or Roberto Martínez v Tony Pulis. But the biggest juxtaposition of mindsets in the Premier League this season may well take place at Carrow Road this weekend: Manuel Pellegrini can be adventurous to the point of being cavalier, Chris Hughton can be cautious to the point of tears. Injuries may limit Pellegrini's options to beef up the midfield that was bullied by Chelsea on Monday so the major question is: given City's possible vulnerability and the fact that his team's previous attempt to hold them at bay resulted in annihilation at the Etihad, will Hughton dare to unshackle his side a tad? PD

• Fernandinho faces Barça fitness fight
• Video: changes not to blame for defeat, says Pellegrini

9) Snakes and ladders in the bottom half

The relegation cliché of choice used to be that you were never too good to go down. In recent years, the inequality created by the indefensible avarice of the Premier League has been such that it is now the case that you are never too bad to stay up. If relegation were decided on merit by an independent panel, as many as 11 teams would be up for discussion. As it is three will go, and the snakes and ladders will continue this weekend: West Ham, currently in the relegation zone, could end the weekend in 11th. RS

• FA agrees to West Ham hearing over Carroll ban

10) What style will Swansea play?

It would be easy to paint Garry Monk as the Anglo-Saxon oaf to Michael Laudrup's continental aesthete, though Monk is more educated than most in the enlightened ways of Swansea. In recent weeks many pundits have suggested Swansea need a Plan B to avoid relegation; whether that is viable given their collection of players is open to debate. The new manager may fancy some Garrymonk football; then again, in a decade's time tactics correspondents might be hailing the Monkian philosophy of football as the logical extension of tiki-taka. We will know more after Cardiff's visit. RS

• Monk 'shocked' but says he is the right man for Swansea
• Laudrup seeks legal advice over Swansea sacking

Premier LeagueFulhamChelseaSouthamptonArsenalManchester UnitedTottenham HotspurEvertonNorwich CityManchester CitySwansea CityPaul DoyleRob Smyth
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Ballon d'Or: Ronaldo rewarded for making miraculous mundane

Few believed any player would reclaim the Ballon d'Or from Lionel Messi but one man always did

Cristiano Ronaldo has banged his head against the brick wall for four years; now the brick wall has given way. Ronaldo was apparently doomed to be forever tortured and defined by the achievements of Lionel Messi. By regaining the Ballon d'Or from Messi, and winning the award for the first time since 2008, he has provided emphatic confirmation that he is one of football's all-time greats.

He almost collected the award as a Manchester United player. After being crowned at an endearingly overblown ceremony in Zurich, Ronaldo confirmed he had considered returning to Old Trafford in the summer. "It is true Rio [Ferdinand] and I spoke a lot," he said. "Rio is a great friend of mine. We were neighbours when I was in Manchester. He is a fantastic guy and he tried to change my mind and go back to Manchester. I did think about United. They are still in my heart. I love that club."

It was an emotional night for Ronaldo, who was tearful when he received the trophy. "It means a lot to win this after Eusébio's passing," he said. "I dedicate this award to him and my team-mates. He was watching from the skies to see this great moment for a Portuguese player. When I saw my mum crying it made me cry as well. I'm an emotional person. It is very difficult to win this award."

Ronaldo's victory is a triumph for strength. The physical part we know about. The cliché that he is a freak of nature has not changed its essential truth. Ronaldo is a cross between Dixie Dean and Usain Bolt. He scores goals in quantities which, since Dean's era, have only really been seen on bright screens in musty bedrooms, including headers so classically immense that it feels as if they should be shown in black and white. Yet he can also cover 96 metres in 10 seconds while wearing football boots, as he did against Atlético Madrid in 2012.

For all that, Ronaldo's physical prowess is perhaps dwarfed by his mental strength. He has overcome myriad obstacles to win the Ballon d'Or. The words would invite ridicule if they ever came out of his mouth but it is not always easy being Ronaldo. His career has been conducted against a backdrop of suspicion and sniping. He is often unloved, even by his own fans, and his public perception reached a nadir last year when he was ridiculed by Sepp Blatter, which was like being called hapless by Frank Spencer. Many see him as selfish and self-obsessed to the point of having a messiah complex.

You could certainly understand if he had a Messi complex. He has to endure constant discussion of Messi's apparent superiority, as a footballer and even as a human being. At times it seemed Ronaldo could not win. If he scored four, Messi would score five. If he cured the common cold, Messi would cure cancer. Ronaldo's most impressive feat is not to usurp Messi; it is to believe he could do so in the first place. Yet Messi is one of only three apparently unbeatable opponents Ronaldo has had to contend with. He has taken on Messi, Barcelona and Spain, at times single-footedly. Part of that challenge broke even José Mourinho; Ronaldo continues to come back for more. One nemesis down, two to go.

Nor has he escaped football's vicissitudes since moving to Madrid. He missed a penalty in a Champions League semi-final shootout against Bayern Munich; he didn't even get to take one against Spain in the semi-final of Euro 2012. His peak years have coincided with football recognising small as beautiful after decades of the opposite view. He could be excused for thinking fate had a sadistic vendetta against him.

It is in that context that we should understand Ronaldo's achievement. He is a monument of conviction. Any other footballer would have consciously or unconsciously surrendered to an apparently irresistible logic. Anyone else would have relaxed and regressed towards the mean.

Instead, Ronaldo ensured an excess of 50 goals a season became the mean. In 2013 he even progressed away from that, scoring 69 times for club and country. He has turned 'Oh I say!' moments into 'Oh' moments. Oh, Ronaldo's scored another hat-trick. Oh, Ronaldo's scored from over 40 yards in the quarter-finals and semi-finals of the European Cup (as he did in 2009). Oh, Ronaldo's scored his 50th of the season. He has made the miraculous mundane.

Then again, greatness has always been a fusion of the spectacular and mundane. Ronaldo's success is as much about his immaculate professionalism as his natural skill. He is a freak of nature but also a freak of nurture, fuelled by an almost demented ambition to achieve everything he possibly can.

He has already achieved so much as to merit inclusion in any discussion of the greatest footballers ever. Yet when World Soccer magazine asked a series of experts to pick their greatest XI last year, Ronaldo was nowhere near the side. He got seven votes: Maradona received 64, Pelé 56, Johan Cruyff 58 and Messi 46. Ronaldo picked up fewer than, among others, Roberto Carlos, Cafu, Garrincha, George Best and the other Ronaldo.

Perhaps his sheer efficiency does not appeal to romantics. Perhaps his remorseless consistency doesn't stir the soul. Perhaps people just don't like him. But to paint him as a robotic achiever does not do justice to his his genius. Ronaldo is a footballer like no other. He has a good case for being the most three-dimensional of football's true greats: almost half his goals in 2013 were scored with either his head or left foot.

While he did not, as some have suggested, patent the wobbling, beach ball free-kick, he is now most commonly associated with a technique he has mastered. He has also obliterated the accepted parameters of the wide forward. The primary reason for that is that he has scored goals in industrial quantities. Of course Ronaldo is a flat-track bully; there has never been a great player who was not. He has also become a rough-track bully, challenging the perception that he doesn't produce in big games. It was not always so, but now Barcelona and Spain fear him more than he fears them.

That's not the only perception Ronaldo has changed down the years. It seems ridiculous now, but he was once regularly damned as having no end product. When he started at Manchester United, he was a fantasy footballer but not a Fantasy Footballer. He dizzied defenders with stepovers that left them with twisted blood and brain cells, yet the Fantasy Football currency of goals and assists eluded him. In his first three seasons at Old Trafford he scored just 27 goals; in the final three, 91. Then, at Real Madrid, he went further. In four and a half seasons he has scored 230 goals in 223 games.

As his goalscoring gradient has gone in one direction at Madrid, so his medal haul has gone in the other. In a sense Ronaldo had a disappointing 2013; all he won was the Ballon d'Or. Real Madrid won nothing. In four-and-a-half years in Madrid he has claimed few big prizes: one La Liga title, no Champions Leagues, one Ballon d'Or and no Player of the Year awards in Spain. (The Spanish league effectively had to invent a new award, the MVP, for him to win something, although Messi was the Best Player again.)

There will always be those who feel personal awards are enough to sustain Ronaldo. It is a simplistic perception of a man whose obvious lust for personal glory only exists in the context of an even greater lust for team glory. The two are inextricably linked.

The moments after a goal has been scored are when a footballer is emotionally naked; the celebration never lies. Ronaldo's reaction when a teammate scores a vital goal is not that of a man in it for himself. When Manchester United won the Champions League in 2008 despite Ronaldo's penalty miss a few minutes earlier, he burst into tears that were one part relief, 10 parts joy.

That's not to say he is unselfish. Or that he doubts his worth: last night he thanked his fans on Facebook by posting a video of himself. His arrogance can be preposterous, but then that's just another reason why he belongs in the company of Cruyff and Maradona among others. If greatness is to be achieved, arrogance is a preference. Ronaldo's selfishness is also partially born of the logic that he is by far the best equipped to make his team win.

Many of Ronaldo's goals for Madrid have been scored in the knowledge that they are not going to help win a trophy. Despite that, his output has not diminished. In sport, futile excellence can be the most impressive of all, whether it comes from a surfeit of personal pride, an endless well of professional pride or, more likely, a combination of the two.

Even Ronaldo's defining achievement of 2013 – a performance for the ages to beat Zlatan Ibrahimovic in international football's first one-a-side game – was not to win a trophy but to avert the unthinkable of Portugal not qualifying for the World Cup. Even if Ronaldo wins the Ballon d'Or for the next five years, he will not retire happy unless he wins more trophies. The world player of the year award is not enough.

Ronaldo is nearly 29 and may be approaching his last World Cup; by 2018 he will have played for 15 years, with few injury breaks and goodness knows how many miles on the clock. There is also a new superpower, Bayern Munich, to sit alongside Spain and Barcelona. But Ronaldo will keep banging his head against the brick wall until the brick wall gives way, as it did in Zurich on Monday night. In Ronaldo's mind the Ballon d'Or is not his crowning glory. It is the start of the defining phase of his career.

Cristiano RonaldoBallon d'OrRob Smyth
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