An ode to football’s greatest piece of skill: The dummy
What’s your favorite piece of footballing skill? The gravity-defying explosion we call the bicycle kick? That most delicate of exclamation points, the Panenka? How about the backheel, that perfect mix of elegance and efficiency?
Those are just a few of the long list of moves with which the great players thrill with skill. But my favourite in one sense involves no skill at all. You don’t have to have the touch of an Eden Hazard, or even a James Collins. Every single player on the pitch can do it. Every single player in the history of the game could have done it. Even you and I have a chance, if the proper conditions arise.
It’s the dummy.
The dummy is the apex of tactical awareness, the purest act of football intelligence. It’s not just the triumph of brain over brawn, but of brain over everything else in the universe. It’s the nerd’s delight.
Even better, it’s nearly always completely unexpected. Approximately 99.999% of the time, when ball and player converge, the player attempts to play the ball. Oh sure, sometimes a defender looks like he’ll play the ball and instead lets it roll to his keeper. But that hardly counts. It’s just a fancy way of making the obvious play. As spectators, we’re still hardwired to follow the ball, and we expect player and ball to meet in some way. The dummy is almost invariably a shock.
(A clarification: we use the word “dummy” to refer to a variety of moves where the player deceives the opponent. But here I’m talking specifically about the dummy where the ball is coming towards you and you let it go through your legs, allowing a teammate to play it.)
Of course, the dummy is more than just a striking feat of smarts. The practical essence of the dummy is that: a) it forces defenders to pay attention to you even though you’re not going to play the ball; b) it allows the ball to roll through to a better-placed attacker.
Here’s a very simple example, from Columbus Crew of Major League Soccer. The player executing the dummy is Federico Higuaín, brother of Gonzalo.
The defender goes to Higuaín, and the dummy means the other attacker, Ola Kamara (no relation to Chris), is unmarked. Goal.
But although in the practical sense this is a textbook dummy, it leaves something to be desired aesthetically. That’s because the best dummies are the ones that look the most casual, as if you’re barely even paying attention. Higuaín’s posture is tense, and he looks around anxiously to see if he’s pulled it off. Bad form.
Now let’s go to a more complex example, executed by Willian against Crystal Palace a couple of weeks ago.
Marcos Alonso is free down the left, and we can anticipate a cross of some kind. Willian slows his run to get into position, then when the ball comes, takes a little leap, letting the ball go through his legs to Eden Hazard. Eventually a goal results, although not directly.
Here the effects on the defence are a bit subtler. As you look over the video, watch Patrick van Aanholt (dyed hair, retreating on the left of defence) and Luka Milivojevic (number 4, trailing the play). Van Aanholt is watching Willian, and Milivojevic is running towards Willian. By watching the man he expects to play the ball, van Aanholt loses the opportunity to mark Hazard more closely. Milivojevic might not have got close enough to Hazard anyway, but by running straight at Willian he loses a nanosecond that might have been better spent in running at Hazard. Partly as a result of the dummy, Hazard is relatively free.
If we’re talking aesthetics, Willian’s is a leaping dummy, which perhaps lacks the potential carefree attitude of the standing dummy, but adds an extra bit of dazzle. Notice also that partly as a result of the leap, his turn to watch seems a natural part of his movement.
Now let’s look at a dummy from earlier this season, Jordan Ayew the seller:
On the surface, this is the exact same play as Higuaín’s, a defensive error punished by a pass from the wing allowed to roll through to the striker. But the difference is that there’s no marker to deceive, and Ayew knows it. He just does the dummy because he realises Tammy Abraham is in a better position to score.
That’s a style point, for me. Another nice feature is that he executes the dummy with a kind of bullfighter’s move, and his fluid motion leaves him perfectly placed to watch the result. Olé.
The best dummies come from open play, because the spontaneity projects an air of instinctive footballing genius. But there’s a place for the dummy on the set piece as well, because a plan executed to perfection earns its own special accolade.
Here’s a classic from the Azzurri, with Andrea Pirlo the dummier and Claudio Marchisio the scorer:
What makes this dummy different from the ones we’ve seen is that Pirlo runs aggressively toward the ball, forcing the defender to go with him. On a set piece, with places pre-arranged, you usually have to sell it extra hard. Style-wise, he could be somewhat more casual, but in his favour he waits to look around and stands perfectly still, as if he’s gone to a prearranged spot.
Naturally this sort of thing can be overdone, and eventually you get things like the look-Ma-I’m-on-YouTube number by the Serbian U17’s at 2:32 in that same video. Purists might shake their head: three dummies, but only one really causes a defender to react. The others are just for show. But hey, football’s for show too, so why not?
The ideal dummy, though, combines show with substance, doing the job perfectly with just the right amount of flair. I’ll close with my favourite all-time dummy, deservedly the most famous of all, part of one of the greatest goals in World Cup history. It’s 1982, group stage first round, Brazil vs. U.S.S.R. It’s the 88th minute, game tied 1-1. A cross from Junior is met by a poor clearance by Sergei Baltacha. The ball falls to Paulo Isidoro, and then:
Eder’s strike is truly magnificent, but equally so is Falcão’s dummy. Has it ever been done so beautifully? He stands almost perfectly still, as relaxed as possible, with just the slightest widening of the legs. Then that slow turn to watch, as if he can hardly be bothered. And if you think it’s only a matter of aesthetics, note that the Soviet defender only starts running toward Eder after the ball passes Falcão, at which point it’s too late.
I think I’ve executed that particular dummy about 4,327 times, all in my dreams. But we really can do it, folks, every one of us. So keep going out on the pitch, and keep waiting for the perfect moment. And stay as casual as possible – someone might just be filming.
Peter Goldstein