In Praise of 8s & 10s

Inside-forwards - otherwise Nos. 8 and 10 in the WM formations favoured by almost every football club in the UK until Puskas and Hungary showed there was another way - were the craftsmen of their day. They supplied the ideas and the bullets, fired, sometimes by wingers who mostly hugged the touchlines, and generally by centre-forwards who ploughed a central furrow. Number 9 may have been the glamour-puss position of choice for most schoolboys, but inside-forwards, operating 'in the hole' (as they say nowadays) had a special elegance and importance all of their own.
Each generation has had its favourites, of course. One editor, hearing me proclaim to someone, 'Have you seen Keelan? He must be one of the best 'keepers Norwich City have ever had,' quietly interjected, 'Ah, but you never saw Ken Nethercott in his prime.' In much the same way the generation of soccer-watchers before me recalled with affection the artistry of Raich Carter, Billy Steel, Wilf Mannion, Ivor Allchurch and Peter Doherty. Alas, I never saw any of them in a League game, though a No. 10 I did see a great deal was that wily box of football trickery, Freddie Fox, little known nationally but the pride and joy of Holbeach United, in the Eastern Counties League in the 1950s.
I have a faint remembrance of having seen Len Shackleton play once, and Johnny Haynes once, though neither, I think, were at their best and played only peripheral roles in these particular games. With slightly more glimpses of Albert Quixall, Jackie Sewell and Ivor Broadis, there was still plenty of opportunity to thrill to the sight of a perfectly weighted defence-splitting pass.
Tommy Bryceland was perhaps the last 'proper' inside-forward at Carrow Road, retaining his place in the team and the crowd's affection until it became tactically fashionable to replace craftsmen with artisans. This happened after England won the World Cup in 1966 with Alf Ramsey's 4-3-3, when everyone jumped on to the 4-3-3 bandwaggon. In Division Two, and for several seasons afterwards, it had disastrous consequences, for many sides pressed unsuitable players into new roles or tried to convert inside-forwards into all-action utility men. It didn't work, of course. Not for a season or two, anyway, and football momentarily lost its way.
Change, of course, is inevitable. The old WM formation could not survive. And even today, the game is still evolving. For example, 1950s fans of the game will be perplexed to see today that the shoulder charge is evidently no longer deemed legitimate, whereas a player can jump with his elbows sticking out (once seen as highly dangerous) and yet evade punishment.
The last of the inside-forwards? I'm not certain, because Jonjo Shelvey sometimes looks like an inside-forward to me. But I think Trevor Brooking in his West Ham days probably ended the honourable history of this particular genre. Trevor, though a long way from being a play-anywhere workhorse, could always surprise you (and the opposition) with an angled pass no-one else would have thought of.
That's one of the things missing from some games at the moment. The unexpected. It doesn't happen that much any more.