Last week we sadly lost Stan Bowles, an extravagantly gifted footballer back in his day who lit up Loftus Road with his individuality, and indeed any and every ground that he graced.
We will never again see his like.
That statement has been used before on these pages, sincerely written and intended to portray that the recently departed figure was either a one-off, or so sublimely blessed that his heightened achievements can never be equalled, and it is meant faithfully here too.
Bowles had rare ability that he showcased in a unique manner. He was quintessentially a law unto himself, both on and off the pitch, and this manifested itself in moments of magic only he could conjure.
On his day, he really was something else.
And yet it can also be taken another way, and regrettably that also holds true.
We will never again see his ‘like’.
That being a maverick. A street footballer if we’re leaning into modern parlance. A player who goes his own way and does his own thing, that thing forever oscillating between anonymity and genius.
A player who doesn’t excite via excellence within the accepted template of his manager’s game-plan but instead offers up the enticing promise of something off the cuff and beyond the margins.
An improvised act that is made all-the-more exhilarating because supporters inside the ground feel immensely privileged to have witnessed it conceived and executed in real time.
Do any such players exist within the Premier League at present? They surely should do. There should be too many to mention given the supreme skillsets of the ilk of Phil Foden and Bukayo Saka, James Maddison and Bruno Fernandes. And the list goes on.
So why is it that the most recent talent who could justifiably be labelled a maverick – a player who valued entertainment as highly as adhering to his manager’s demands – was Adel Taraabt? The Moroccan last treated us to his mercurial fare in the top-flight just shy of a decade ago.
Ever since there has been total uniformity, players reduced to being human chess pieces, moved around by grandmasters in the dug-out. You go here, when he goes there. During this passage of play move inside ten metres. During that passage of play go wide.
Now, it could be argued that such tethering where positional play is concerned has always been prevalent in elite football, if made considerably worse by the advancement of tactics and data crunching.
But what about an individual’s actions? Their free-will.
Because for huge swathes of this game’s history a midfielder might well have always been instructed to track Player X at corners, and provide back-up for a struggling full-back, but when he had the ball at his feet he was invariably given carte blanche.
He was entrusted to make the right decision. After all, that’s why the club bought him.
These days, however, a flick that doesn’t come off is accompanied by a furious coach storming to the edge of his technical area. An adventurous pass that loses possession could well see that player dropped for the following fixture.
If a player repeatedly takes risks the football odds on him making it at the highest level are depressingly short.
Which brings us to perhaps the most dispiriting aspect to this modern intolerance to individuality. That it’s a problem right through the levels.
Watch your club’s Under 15s play and it’s a carbon copy of the first-team where every player knows exactly where he’s expected to be in any given situation and no player dares stray.
Percentages are drummed into them, meaning a winger breaking out wide won’t seek to take on an isolated full-back but instead will wait for back-up. A midfielder eying up a risky through-ball will instead place his foot on the ball, before rolling it five yards to his right or left.
The notion of anyone attempting to pull off a trick perfected on the training ground is in sport betting terms a long shot at best. Which is ironic because no-one is encouraged to take on long shots anymore either.
We’re breeding robots while on Saturday afternoon lauding the most robotic, players who, as well as talent, made the grade by obeying their coach’s commands without a single shred of rebellion.
Thankfully though, not all hope is lost.
Manchester City signing Jeremy Doku, the dribble king, bodes well. It signifies that Pep Guardiola – the ultimate devotee of control – is embracing chaos theory, which in turn leads to individuality.
Seeing Eberechi Eze meanwhile fly at opponents for Crystal Palace is always a thrilling sight, though perhaps this example can be explained by a player being bigger than his club and knowing it. There is very little chance of Eze being dropped for trying out a rabona.
Whatever the reasons, his risk-taking should be rewarded, not punished and when viewing the big picture this is a fight that needs to be won, or at the very least not completely lost.
Because we lost Stan Bowles this week and that’s sad enough. If his enterprising spirit goes too from the game where does that leave us?
*Credit for all of the photos in this article belongs to Alamy*
