Big Tom finally finds his mojo

A decade of dismal defensive football under Gareth Southgate led us all to believe that England’s performances could only get better under a new manager.

Then up stepped Thomas Tuchel to shatter that illusion.

His opening months as England manager made Southgate look like Johan Cruyff in a waistcoat. The football, if you can call it that, was grim and uninspired, giving us little reason to smile and even less to applaud, despite four competitive wins out of four.

England conceded zero goals in those games, which was, coincidentally, exactly the same number of times I enjoyed watching them.

Then, last week, came Tom’s biggest test... away to Serbia. A qualifier that looked tailor-made for disaster: hostile crowd, tricky opponents and an England side that had been playing like they’d all left the oven on at home.

This time, though, Tuchel’s men actually showed up, somehow managing an entirely unexpected and equally impressive 5-0 victory. They passed crisply, they pressed with intent, and – steady yourselves – they even scored goals that weren’t the direct result of opposition players making mistakes.

It wasn’t quite samba football. Nobody is going to be waxing lyrical about it. But compared to the bureaucratic misery of his early games, this was pretty much poetry in motion. For the first time since he arrived, Tuchel loosened the straitjacket and got England playing like the sum of their expensive parts.

One good performance doesn’t erase the memory of the previous matches, replays of which could be used by dentists if they run out of sedatives

Of course, this is still England and one good performance doesn’t erase the memory of the previous matches, replays of which could be used by dentists if they run out of sedatives.

But if Tuchel can replicate this level more than once every five fixtures, then maybe, just maybe, the FA’s gamble on the German won’t look quite so joyless.

For now, though, we’ll take it. England finally looked like a football team. Tuchel finally looked like a manager. And, for once, supporters were able to keep watching to the end without fear of narcolepsy.

Will there be forest fruits for Ange?

There’s something deeply reassuring about Ange Postecoglou resurfacing in the Premier League so quickly.

Football is a brighter place for his gravelly humour, old-fashioned values and commitment to playing a goalkeeper, nine forwards and one slightly bewildered defender.

At Tottenham Hotspur he delivered a first trophy in 17 years but their league form went into a tailspin at the same time. That prompted Daniel Levy to wield the axe before, somewhat ironically, being on the receiving end of the same axe just a few weeks later.

But if Postecoglou thought Levy was hard to satisfy, he is going to find Forest owner Evangelos Marinakis a whole different level of insatiable.

This is a man who doesn’t need a defeat or a poor performance to justify a meltdown. Just failing to make the right substitution is enough for him to storm on the pitch and give his manager a public rollicking.

Forest under Marinakis have been a managerial merry-go-round powered by rocket fuel. Since 2017 he’s churned through a dozen bosses – Aitor Karanka, Sabri Lamouchi, Chris Hughton, Steve Cooper, Nuno Espírito Santo – each discarded as casually as yesterday’s takeaway box.

For all the club’s proud history, the present reality is simple: no one is safe for long, no matter what they deliver.

That makes Postecoglou’s appointment fascinating and fraught.

The Australian’s career pattern is clear: year one brings excitement, change and turbulence, year two brings a trophy. It worked in Australia, Japan, at Celtic, even at Spurs before Levy reached for the ejector seat button. The question is whether Marinakis can suppress his volcanic instincts long enough to let Postecoglou reach that second year.

I’m delighted he’s back. Forest’s squad has the pace and flair to thrive under ‘Angeball’, from Morgan Gibbs-White to Callum Hudson-Odoi. But this particular job isn’t about tactics alone. It’s about surviving the owner’s next tantrum.

If Postecoglou does last two seasons, history suggests silverware follows. But, this time, his real victory may simply be making it into the second year...

Owls of derision

You’ve got to hand it to Sheffield Wednesday’s players and coaches.

Despite the awful state the club is in, they have charged into the season like a team possessed. Fair enough, they only have one league point to show for it so far but they are far from the disaster that everyone, myself included, predicted.

Despite not having a full squad and having to rely on youngsters, loanees and reserves, their performances have been gritty, determined and full of fight, which is truly commendable given the circumstances.

Not only that but they are also through to the third round of the League Cup, beating Bolton Wanderers away in the first round and then eliminating Premiership side Leeds United on penalties in the second. They now have a tie against giant-killers Grimsby Town to look forward to, which is definitely winnable if you aren’t from Manchester.

I still fear for the club’s future under the current, deranged and deluded ownership. But the players and staff have shown levels of commitment and fight that should make all Wednesday fans proud.

The Norwegian terminator

Erling Haaland doesn’t so much play football as process it.

Against Moldova, the Norwegian attacking machine scored five in an 11-1 demolition, a hat-trick saved away by half-time before two more were efficiently uploaded in the second half.

This, remember, while carrying stitches on his face from a collision with a bus door – which got a lot closer to the Manchester City striker than any of the Moldova defenders.

His international stats now resemble a glitch in the football matrix: 48 goals in 45 caps, nine already in this qualifying campaign. He is a pure goalscoring robot who has helped his country to five wins from five and possible qualification for their first tournament since 2000.

Five goals in a single game at international level is truly astonishing, irrespective of the level of opposition. For context, no European has hit those numbers in a qualifier since Hans Krankl bagged six back in 1977... when football was still analogue.

At this point, when it comes to Erling, FIFA might want to skip the doping tests and start checking him for malware.

E-mail: jamescalvertmalta@gmail.com

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