Feature: Appreciating the role of the playmaker

15th November 2023
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By Gareth Maher Playmakers are a different species. Made up of chromosomes not found in most humans; medical students would marvel at the unexplainable parts of their DNA and struggle to understand how someone who masquerades as a normal person in

By Gareth Maher

Playmakers are a different species.

Made up of chromosomes not found in most humans; medical students would marvel at the unexplainable parts of their DNA and struggle to understand how someone who masquerades as a normal person in everyday life can suddenly transform into a superman, of sorts, who cannot be stopped even by the kypronite of bad pitches, poorer players, and defences as resolute as the Great Wall of China.

Similar to that favourite toy you over-used one Christmas, the very best playmakers deliver instant gratification. When they arrive you wonder how we allowed life to be stuck in black & white when colour and high definition was within our grasp. It takes a genius to show us new ways and that is what playmakers do.

In 2006, a fascinating documentary was made about Zinedine Zidane. With 17 cameras focused in on him during a La Liga match between Real Madrid and Villarreal, the viewer was treated to an up-close insight to one of the world's greatest ever players. For a lot of the film, you watch Zidane become frustrated with not receiving the ball often enough and admiring the superb soundtrack from Mogwai. Then there are flashes of brilliance and you are reminded why this balding Frenchman was chosen as the protagonist for a piece that is as much a study of the playmaker as it is a film aimed to entertain.

I always wondered why nobody did the same thing with Joseph N'do.

When I think of the Cameroonian's career, it is almost as if he played out every role from the game of Chess. At the beginning, he was a Pawn willing to scrap and fight for any inch of territory. Then national team recognition elevated him to the status of a Knight, where his movement was more synchronised. Time spent in Switzerland and France resembled his Bishop era, where he controlled his position but proved effective when attacking from a designated vantage point. Stops in Asia taught him how to conserve energy, in the same way that a Rook does by only moving when making a sweeping move forward. Onto Ireland and N'do combined all of those strategies and experiences to morph into a killer Queen. Whilst with Shelbourne and Bohemians, he glided across the board, making his own rules and knocking off opponents as if they hapless pawns. Finally, he became King. This was during his spell at Sligo Rovers when he learned how to be controlling and devastating by making fewer moves. Once he was in the mood, it was checkmate!

I always felt guilty watching N'Do when sitting in a press box, knowing that my media pass had granted me free entry. It was almost as if I was short-changing one of the greatest showmen of his era and sometimes I felt like emptying my pockets to offer up some form of appreciation for the performance that he had just put on. 

Playmakers do that. They tickle the nervous system, force neck hairs to stand guard, fire up the bloodstream, and wake up the corpus callosum that ignites the creative parts of our brains. Watching a playmaker - not just No 10s, but anyone who can control a game with the sophistication and dexterity of a master puppeteer - is quite possibly the most satisfying part of experiencing live football.

In the last few decades, supporters of the Greatest League In The World (yes, we are going to persist with this) have been spoilt with a variation of playmakers. There has been Tony Sheridan, Wes Hoolahan, Neale Fenn, George O'Callaghan, Dessie Baker, Joseph N'Do, Paddy McCourt, Mindaugas Kalonas and Patrick McEleney, to name but a few.

Yet, the question must be asked if playmakers are a dying breed? Does the demand for results in such a competitive era restrict the allowance of one player to focus solely on being a creator?

Tactical plans, largely, are devised with the intention of stopping the other team and not conceding a goal. Yes, managers will tell you that they all want to play slick, passing football and light up the scoreboard so much that is eventually blows a fuse. But we cannot help but be sceptical when a playmaker spends more time doing stretches on the sidelines than wreaking havoc on the pitch.

Not all managers are like that, so it would be unfair to put them all in the same box. Plus it would be foolish to overlook the importance of grinding out results when they are needed most. Yet, supporters can be selfish when they crave that jolt of electricity that a playmaker can provide with a defence-splitting pass, a set-piece executed with the accuracy of a trained sniper, or a piece of individual skill that would force a street entertainer to pack up their case and head home.

Hopefully there will always be space afforded to playmakers within our game. They are the one's who bring everything up to a level that keeps us as giddy as a sugar-fulled kid and as content as a lottery winner in a hammock. Without playmakers, the beautiful game would not be as pretty.