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Louis Van Gaal’s press conferences over the course of his career have consisted mainly of him discussing his famous ‘philosophy’. During his second spell in charge of the Netherland’s national team he mentioned how “names matter to the media but not to me”. Van Gaal, in his words, “continually plays players who best fit the team; never those who are just big names”.

When the Dutchman sat down to be interviewed for the first time as Manchester United manager during the club’s pre-season tour to the United States, he summed up his philosophy in one straightforward sentence.

The often eccentric former Ajax boss declared “I’m not a coach who thinks short-term, I am a coach who thinks always in the long-term”.

The strike partnership between Robin van Persie and Radomel Falcao in United’s forward-line this season certainly is not the future; it’s not even the present.

United’s attacking play this season has resembled a figure having been struck by lightning as opposed to the electrifying force of the blinding bolt itself. Both players were once renowned for the way they played the game in their head, albeit in slightly different ways.

Van Persie always harbored the creative streak one would expect a son of two artists to possess; as well as angling in beautiful finishes he was capable of dropping deep and assisting his inferior teammates (he assisted the most goals in the 2008/9 Premier League season).

Falcao on the other hand crept around the opponent’s final third waiting for the ideal opportunity to pounce on the space they vacated.

When the Colombian speaks about his slithery movement he refers to it as ‘strategic’. “It is part of the efficiency of a striker, to be able to position yourself, be able to intuit what the move is going to be, and be able to lose your defenders”.

Physically however, both look short of the high level expected of strikers at Old Trafford. Both men have been slain by injuries for periods in the past. Falcao’s acceleration in particular has diminished. While he once flashed beyond the Barcelona defence and delicately lay Victor Valdes down as you would a sleeping baby, he is restricted to the penalty box nowadays; a place where he admittedly did most of his damage but a limiting reference that slights just how formidable he was.

This shortage of speed shrinks the effect of United’s sole world class performer, Angel Di Maria. The Argentine, while sometimes wasteful in possession, thrives with space to gallop into. A darting forward driving behind centre backs and into the channels would force opposition defences backwards and allow Di Maria to advance menacingly (and ominously) toward the box with venom.

Unsurprisingly, The Red’s attacking difficulties are visible when assessing the season’s statistics.

United sit 10th in shots per game with 12.6, which is behind every other team in the top half of the table with the exception of Swansea. While they improve when adjusting the metrics to shots in the penalty area (6.5 per game) and shots in open play (9.3), the gain is marginal; Van Gaal’s men lie 8th in the league under both criteria (strangely behind Queens Park Rangers, although QPR are the outlier here, not United).

Individually, Robin van Persie sits just outside the top 20 players in the league who have played at least 1000 minutes in shots per game in 21st (tied with Saido Berahino, Conor Wickham and Abel Hernandez on 2.5), with his Colombian partner further down in 39th (1.9). For the sake of balance, measuring their shots per ninety minutes as opposed to per game moves Falcao up to 24th (2.9 per 90), while the Dutchman slips to 26th (2.7 per 90).

One positive piece of data for United’s frontline is van Persie’s 2.2 shots per 90 minutes inside the opponent’s penalty area, which puts him 8th in the Premier League (excluding Frank Lampard due to a lack of minutes). Frankly however there is an element of clutching at straws here; van Persie’s contribution this season pales in comparison with him at his optimal level and Sergio Aguero (4.3 per 90) gets just under twice as many efforts from the box as the former Arsenal hitman (in between the two sit Wilfried Bony, Diego Costa and Danny Welbeck from the top sides).

Against Burnley on Wednesday night the pair’s only shot was van Persie’s successful penalty, while the fact this was the club’s first penalty of the season is a consequence of a lack of touches in the box.

As touched upon by Robbie Dunne yesterday, the elephant in the room here is Jorge Mendes. Since Ed Woodward replaced David Gill as the club’s chief executive, his relationship with the Portuguese superagent has blossomed. The two send family photos to each other, while Mendes’ daughter reportedly attended Old Trafford last season for a period of work experience.

A previous version of Louis van Gaal would have ignored any involvement from any member of the club’s hierarchy.

A previous version of Louis van Gaal however wouldn’t have fielded a reactive Dutch side at the World Cup, he wouldn’t have bowed to pragmatism and utilised Marouane Fellaini’s aerial ability.

A previous version of Louis van Gaal would’ve waged war against the club last summer.

When Van Gaal was unveiled as United manager at a press conference post-World Cup he revealed how he came to realize how big a club he had joined.

“Within two days I know already how important Manchester United is, but (also) how important the sponsors are”.

Jorge Mendes doesn’t have any advertising hoardings on display around Old Trafford. The signs of his influence at Manchester United are on the pitch.

*All statistics are from www.whoscored.com/

How old is a Prospect?

The rise of Harry Kane is somewhat inconceivable to modern football fans. Despite people beginning to come to terms with the idea the aging curve for athletes is shifting to the left, his influence on the Tottenham squad this season has been significant for a 21 year-old. That hasn’t stopped people belittling his achievement however; for everyone other than Spurs fans Kane is a ‘flavour of the month’ footballer. The inevitable loss of form will see him out of North London and kick-start a career touring around bottom-half clubs, probably under Harry Redknapp. Twenty-one is too old nowadays.

If a prospect hasn’t been discovered in their teens today there’s a degree of scepticism attached to them. Paul Pogba was 18 when he became known as the boy who’s self-importance dwarfed Alex Ferguson’s at Manchester United. Norway’s Martin Ødegaard made his international debut at 15 last Autumn and is currently touring European powerhouses from Madrid to Melwood; teasing fans desperate for the next big thing to inject stardom into their academy.

Kane has neither the dynamism of Pogba nor the velocity of a player like Raheem Sterling; he doesn’t appear to be a natural footballer. Despite this, and his slack-jawed appearance, he’s proving himself to be an intelligent player; his ability to find space across the pitch is superb for someone with so few minutes under his belt at the top level.

Bayern Munich once had a similar player in their academy. According to a scout for a renowned European club a young Thomas Muller “was uncoordinated, ugly to watch. He’d try to trap the ball and it would bounce three meters away. He was always in a hurry, always scrambling, like a guy who was terrified to make a mistake. In my experience, guys like that don’t have a future in the top flight”. Fortunately for the youngster the Bavarians’ manager Louis van Gaal was in awe of his positional awareness and introduced him to the first team. When other’s questioned his place the cocksure Dutchman insisted “under me, Müller will always play”.

“The idea that I should trust my eyes more than the stats, I don’t buy that because I’ve seen magicians pull rabbits out of hats and I know that the rabbit’s not in there.” – Billy Beane.

Nobody is touting Kane as a future Bayern Munich forward, but there’s plenty evidence even at this early stage to suggest he belongs in the top half of the Premiership. While eight of his goals have come in inferior competitions his tally of fifteen for the season stands out amongst Roberto Soldado and Emmanuel Adebayor’s contribution this year, particularly when you take into account the fact Kane has both led the line and played behind the striker.

In Premier League games where he’s played for over half an hour he has eight goals (a rate of one every 138 minutes or game and a half), none of which came from the penalty spot. While his shot output in this period is good but nothing special at 3.5 a game he has been extremely efficient. This is a consequence of Kane’s uncanny ability to take shots from ‘the Danger Zone’ (55%, the Premiership average is under 40%), or the centre of the box, as Michael Caley discussed here (hyperlink).

There are deficiencies in Kane’s game. While his link up play is impressive in wide areas he fails to get involved in play in central areas of the opposition’s half (penalty box aside). Even against Chelsea where he bagged a brace he failed to penetrate central areas from twenty to forty yards out.

While some could point to the presence of Nemanja Matic at the heart of Chelsea’s midfield for this it is a pattern that repeats itself across a number of games.

To prove he deserves his place in the starting eleven at a club as ambitious as Spurs Kane will have to strive to improve his link-up play, try to keep the inevitable dry-spell as short as possible and more importantly maintain his current level for the next 18 months. The clamour over an England call-up beckons ahead of their clash with Lithuania in March but Kane should display something he fails to show on the pitch, selfishness, focus on his own game for the next year and serve his time in the Under-21 set up.

For now however the signs are good and in the short term he should be a lock in for you this weekend as he attempts to make it seven goals in seven games as the in-form North London club travel across the Thames to Crystal Palace.

The Special One V2

Jose Mourinho is either lying or he has been fooled by the milkman, because neither the man-child bear-hugging the Chelsea manager during his exuberant celebration after defeating Manchester City nor the red-haired youngster next to him share much of a resemblance to the Portuguese protagonist. Maybe one of these is Mourinho Jr., who’s to say Jose’s son isn’t a supporter of Leitrim GAA like the beaming young fan pictured behind the City bench on Sunday afternoon? However if we take the past into consideration we can cut through the superfluous excuse spewed out of Mourinho’s mouth with Occam’s Razor. The self-anointed Special One had zero interest in celebrating with his son after Fernando Torres capitalised on City’s defensive combustion at Stamford Bridge, his actions were provocative, premeditated and unprofessional; his intent was vintage Mourinho.

For a manager who merges football with the extravagancy of showbiz like no other Sunday was a nadir. Jose ran out of new ideas to shock the audience and reignite the feud with his predecessor at Real Madrid Manuel Pellegrini so he reverted to a stale trick, previously performed at the Bernabeu two seasons ago after a Kaka goal sealed a victory late on over Villareal. Mourinho danced in front of the Yellow Submarines’ bench, emphatically raising his arms at his son who was (supposedly) conveniently located behind their dugout. Repeating his once original antics yesterday was proof that Mourinho just doesn’t do effortless irritation as gloriously as he used to.

Mourinho’s managerial career began with a lie in Portugal. During a meeting with the Porto board in January 2002 the then 38 year old dazzled his future employers by narrating a detailed slide-show he had created highlighting the vision and philosophy he promised to bring to the provincial powerhouse were he given the keys at the club.

Under Mourinho the club would aspire to win the largest number of titles possible playing an attractive brand of football with a team containing as many home-grown players as possible. As time progressed it became clear the 28 slides were blatant plagiarism, cut from a longer presentation Louis VanGaal gave to the Barcelona board at the beginning of his time in Catalonia, yet the Porto board were unaware of this at the time and fortunately hired Mourinho on the spot.

Once he had got his leg up however, he was never going to stop. Love him or loathe him, the fifty year old is an insanely great manager, pairing exceptional tactical nous with an extraordinary ability to inspire his charges to bring him success.

Samuel Eto’o thanks God for delivering him to Mourinho at Inter Milan, while the Portuguese carefully caressed Zlatan Ibrahimovic with silk gloves, creating a symbiotic relationship between the pair where Zlatan would get the goals and “be prepared to die” for his boss, while Jose would get the glory. Mourinho is obsessed with two things; success and his image, how he is perceived. At Real Madrid he insisted on sitting in seat D10 on away journeys in the Champions League as Real attempted to finally win La Decima (10th European Cup). 

Rationally, any fan of any team would cherish Mourinho at their club as he comes with inevitable success. However sport isn’t the most rational sphere of human activity. Greece succeeding in Euro 2004, Liverpool fans thinking “I don’t speak to blacks” is a term of endearment, that Newcastle fan punching a horse; none of those things should happen (actually, maybe the last one should).

Ethically you could make a case for never wanting to see the man at the helm of your club. As Mourinho announced at his unveiling as Real Madrid manager he comes on his terms: “I arrive with all my qualities and my defects." His qualities have been mentioned already, his defects? Well, there’s a strong case to be made that the sole display of class during his career has been when he wished Barcelona manager Tito Vilanova well in his recovery from cancer. While a noble act, it’s not too idealistic to have taken this as a given.

Events like the previous eye-gouging incident with Vilanova and his contribution to the death-threats which led to Anders Frisk’s retirement have not only sabotaged Mourinho’s reputation but also his cv. Football-wise he tends to leave a trail of scorched earth behind him following his definite three-year stay at clubs, a trait unlikely to go unnoticed by clubs searching for a stable and successful marriage. After years of public courting Jose was ignored this summer when the one job he felt destined for became available.

Jose Mourinho’s first clash with Alex Ferguson at Chelsea in August 2004 resulted in a 1-0 victory but also a rather forced admission of inferiority: "I told Mr. Ferguson that United didn't deserve to leave Stamford Bridge with nothing." Jose Mourinho’s last clash with Alex Ferguson resulted in a 2-1 victory but also another rather forced admission of inferiority: “The best team lost”.

Bobby Charton and the powers that be at United didn’t take the bait. “He pontificates too much for my liking” claimed Charlton, as well as suggesting ‘Mr. Ferguson’ wasn’t as fond of his peer as had been suggested and stating a United manager would never act like the man publicly whoring himself to the red half of Manchester.

Wounded, he has returned to the Premier League under the guise of ‘The Happy One’ but make no mistake, this is Special One v2, inspired by rejection and fuelled with the bitterness of a teenage girl whose best friend pulled the county centre-back behind her back. There will be even more arrogance, every word will be loaded with political meaning and aimed at a particular target; every action will want to have been seen.

The Prodigal Son has returned having seemingly seen the light, his new aversion to diving and cynical fouls reinforced by his love for the Red Rose of England. "Some foreign players when they come to England still keep their culture and it's a disgrace you do that to a person”. Even time-wasting is treated with contempt: ”you pay your ticket and every time the game stops you have to wait about half a minute? That is a waste of money. That’s not funny. Not in England”.

Jose Mourinho can survive on lies, if anything lies are essential to his being. However the first sign of terminal decline is telling the same lie twice, and this red flag has been raised after just nine games of the season.

Europe's Finest, The Bavarian Fool

For professionals at the most expensive, historically rich football clubs, a degree of self-doubt can easily be forgiven given they are expected to perform superhuman miracles twice a week in front of millions of critics. Thomas Muller however couldn’t be more comfortable on the pitch, his fears fall far away from the Allianz Arena or Westfalenstadion. "Whenever I go somewhere and a little child asks me to show some tricks, I have to say: 'I don't know any!',” Muller told Frankfurter Allgemeinen Zeitungen last year with his trademark smile beaming from ear to ear. “I'm not a player who is enjoyable to watch for 90 minutes. I am more of a team player”. Footballers are experts of spouting out words devoid of meaning or truth; they live in a world where only master politicians prosper. Yet Muller’s words transform clichés from literary straight bats to laconic analysis.

The aloof twenty-three year old from the south of Bavaria exudes a modesty alien to his superclub, the European champions Bayern Munich. The German international constantly refers to his ambition to merely stand as an efficient member of his team. After winning the Golden Boot at the World Cup in South Africa Muller attested his success to pure fortune, almost annoyingly announcing “I basically got lucky, I hit form at just the right time”.

Each of his five goals were celebrated with his trademark Inzaghi-esque, joie de vivre exuberance refuting the idea of the stereotypical steel-eyed German. Muller would personify the cult hero; the modern day squad player who, were his services not required, would be bouncing with the fans every Saturday but frankly he is far superior than the likes of Dirk Kuyt and Kevin Grosskreutz.

The Bavarian’s rise to a deserved place amongst the world’s best has been rapid; Muller’s Golden Boot polished off what was his first full season as an established figure in the Bayern Munich team. Like a handful of the world’s premium footballers (Andreas Iniesta and Xavi included) his career began to blossom under Louis van Gaal once the Dutchman arrived in 2009, and his achievements since ensure he fails to look out of place amongst his contemporaries. While Muller had failed to impress opposition scouts as a Bayern youth Van Gaal was the last of a series of coaches to value the home-grown talent’s mental strength and positional awareness, insisting that “under me, Müller will always play” in the face of criticism over his team selection.

With hindsight it appears preposterous that there appeared to be valid reasons for discarding Muller from the Bayern squad. Throughout our lives our eyes continue to deceive us. Muller has been undervalued due to the visual biases mentioned in Michael Lewis’ Moneyball. When he plays alongside the likes of Bastian Schweinsteiger, Arjen Robben and even centre-back Mats Hummels for the national side Muller appears erratic, almost out of place, akin to Roger Federer gracing Wimbledon’s Centre Court only to unveil a grotesque, yet surprisingly efficient double-handed forehand.

His slight, 6’ 1’’ frame gives the impression of a giraffe trying to escape from the zoo through one of the zookeeper’s fire exits when on the pitch. Yet despite his unorthodox, Bambi on ice style of play Bayern’s number 25 is blessed with wonderful sight, while his ambition to constantly harass opponents close to the opposition goal pushes him forward as an ideal candidate to play in one of the three positions behind the striker when Pep Guardiola brings his leftist football (“we play leftist football, everyone does everything”) to FC Bayern next season.

Muller’s appreciation of space is perhaps unmatched in European football, with each of the 13 arduous kilometres he runs a game racked up as he hunts for an extra metre or two of freedom where he can display his stunning ability to pick a pass. Muller finds solace by referring to himself as a Raumdeuter, or space investigator, as if he has to prove his worth in order to justify his presence in the world’s best team.

Even in the build-up to Bayern’s first goal in the Champions League final Muller’s curiosity as to why the space on the edge of the Dortmund box was unoccupied proved vital, with Neven Subotic lured towards Das Raumdeuter at the precise moment Franck Ribery slipped a delicate ball through to Robben, giving Mario Mandzukic space to wriggle in the area.

Earlier this season an in-form Muller netted a baffling individual goal away to Hamburg which highlighted his genius. After skipping beyond René Adler it appeared as if Muller would finally suffocate in the absence of his most cherished commodity. Yet, confronted by the byline, Bayern’s winger defied logic to fool the Hamburg keeper, producing an unimaginable goal from the narrowest of angles and which sealed a victory for the eventual champions. It was the perfect example of Arsene Wenger’s theory of a world-class player. “Football at the highest level confronts players with an infinity of possibilities, from which they must choose one within a fraction of a second. A great player… will always find the only solution, which, watching from the touchline, you often didn’t know existed”.

Thierry Henry regularly performed acts of supreme quality at such an exhilarating pace, leading spectators to regard him as a visceral masterpiece, almost ignoring the unique intelligence he obtained through years of practice. Ronaldinho in his pomp, the master street artist, deceived his audience, blurring their perceptions with a sleeve full of unfathomable tricks reducing princes to paupers on the biggest of stages. Muller’s incoherence results in a lack of admiration regardless of his capability to pick out a pass and perfectly perform the act or passively bury an opportunity, regardless of the magnitude of the game.

And that’s the special thing about Muller. Like his namesake and idol Gerd, he contributes when it truly matters. Muller was at the centre of Bayern’s victories over Juventus and Barcelona in the later stages of the Champions League this season. Like many of the club formerly known as FC Hollywood’s stars he fails to receive a suitable amount of recognition due to people tarring Bayern as a purely rigid, ruthless machine. It’s no coincidence that the jester was absent from Germany’s most recent tournament defeats against Italy last summer (Muller was fatally dropped in favour of his club mate Toni Kroos) and Spain in 2010 (due to suspension).

Integrally for Die Mannschaft, the Bayern core which forms the foundations of the national team now firmly believes they can claim major honours on the international stage ahead of the World Cup in Brazil next summer. After two recent Champions League defeats to match the traumatic international defeats the German team should arrive in South America with no doubts that they can shed the ‘always the Bridesmaids tag’ and turn Germany from the Borussia Dortmund (wonderful football worthy of praise but lacking the final stamp of approval) of international football to the Bayern Munich (win or nothing). Undoubtedly, should Germany succeed Muller will accidentally be at the heart of their attacking play.

Following the 2012/13 season Muller is a worthy candidate for the Ballon D’Or at the end of the year after contributing to Bayern’s historic treble-winning season. Were he to succeed and stumble onto the Zurich stage it would be fitting if Muller’s rigout fails to stretch beyond his favourite jeans and t-shirt combination creating an awkward atmosphere, with the mood further deepened after Bayern's upgraded Gervinho drops his prize onto Sepp Blatter’s metatarsal while attempting to shake his hand like a Shakespearean fool. As Isaac Asimov argued in his Guide to Shakespeare, 'that, of course, is the great secret of the successful fool – that he is no fool at all.'