Welcome, disciples. This is the altar now: Bellamy-ball. A glittery arena of unabashed fun, tactical enlightenment, nylon bomber jackets and slim-fit trousers and, because this is Wales, that shiver of angst.
Here: dual false nines and high octane pressing. Here: shapes that morph and play out from the back. Here: a version of Aaron Ramsey that is neither the one of yore nor the one of fading cobwebs. Here: Ethan Ampadu so chock full of confidence, he commits to a bicycle kick on his 50th cap with less than 10 minutes remaining—despite the scoreline being level and the midfielder never having scored a senior international goal in his life–and everyone claps non-ironically.
Here: pre-camp Sorba Thomas suspicion is reduced to slander. Here: Wales are 1-0 up in 37 seconds against Montenegro. Here: Wales are 2-0 up in 165 seconds against Montenegro. Here: Wales almost blow it all against 40-places-below-them-Montenegro in epically predictable Wales-in-former-Yugoslavia fashion—but don’t.
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Wales’ new Craig Bellamy era has officially conquered its first 10 days. You can breathe now. A back-to-school international break that risked being little more than tough lessons for a new ambitious head coach instead fox trotted and army crawled through a psychedelic other world. A world where there are no tracksuits. And formations are for fools. And a sense of hope has been recovered from continental mire.
The next few weeks will be dissected ad nauseam regarding what we gleaned from Bellamy’s first two games in charge. The headlines: Harry Wilson has the mettle to be a leader in this space. Ampadu really is that good. Perhaps this squad really has been stymied tactically. Substitutions can be made before the 80th minute. Lewis Koumas can start a game. Experimenting can be done without sacrificing results. Karl Darlow’s call-up might actually have been prescient.
Equally: it’s two games. Remember to breathe and touch the grass outside.
The latter is arguably the biggest subplot. Because for all the necessary calls for temperance, the last four days have left supporters with lingering side effects, including: enjoyment, confidence, hope and (in severe cases) grandiose delusion. World Cup 2026? Just crown Wales now. 2028 Euros? Already won it. 2032? Bring it on.
Obviously, all of this is ridiculous. Of course it is. For every triumphant wink towards that 2026 North American summer, there are at least nine furtive glances back towards the graveyard of past qualifying campaigns, a shudder at the sound of Stevan Jovetić rattling the crossbar.
Here it’s worth cutting back to earlier this summer, where a fog of doom and thunder pervaded everything. Hope is a dangerous cocktail, but who knew it was possible to develop such strong feelings after only four days? To leech onto every word from a man once likened to a badger on the pitch as if scriptural?
Cynics will roll their eyes at the desperation. Nailing colours to masts this early is treacherous territory. And if we’re to do the right thing at some point in the next 400 words, then now is probably as good a time as any. The problem areas: scoring (despite doing it twice in 165 seconds), defensive vulnerability on the counter, maintaining control of proceedings, squad depth.
Montenegro should’ve come away with at least a point. Wales can feel endowed to Darlow, Ben Davies, Ben Davies again and the woodwork for that not being the case. Kieffer Moore should’ve put his chance away. Montenegro had 22 shots to Wales’ 10, five on target to Wales’ three and 51 per cent possession. Brennan Johnson remains a compelling but frustrating promise.
Bellamy was without David Brooks, Dan James, Wes Burns and Nathan Broadhead, but his system looks to rely on the excellence of a certain sect, specifically Ampadu and James. What happens when injury strikes?
In his post-match assessment on Friday night, Bellamy puffed his chest and proclaimed the performance to be the worst Wales would ever be under him. And despite the irresistible earnestness in the former Burnley coach’s voice, this was obviously a big fat lie.
Because footballers are human and this is Wales and sometimes it monsoons in Montenegro. But while it was arguably naive of Bellamy to rush out of the FAW’s front door waving such bold edicts so soon, there is little to deny the fire it inculcated inside, the permission to dream again.
The incantation under former manager Rob Page was transition, a vague enough word that putrefied in the end. The term shouldered the unspoken undertones of Wales Without Bale; of a country having to reconcile its place on a stage where maybe it didn’t belong. Wales does not have the innate right to qualify for major tournaments, especially not in transition.
Earlier in the week, Bellamy refrained from being drawn on the definition, but it was notable how he seemed to buckle at the implication that this was somehow mitigation for not achieving his goals. The 78-cap former international knows there is no divine right to qualify–neither is there excuse for failing to do so. The two are not mutually exclusive.
Appropriately, Bellamy did not accept the apocalyptic conditions in Nikšić until the very end, when he was forced to acknowledge that his white trainers were now brown, his midnight-on-Mill-Lane couture sodden. Around this time, he also acknowledged that bringing Jordan James on–a central midfielder–was necessary to Wales grinding out a result, recognising that dogma sometimes demands reaction and Wales are a team that must occasionally contort.
Bellamy looked a man distraught at the spectre of not playing another match in 72 hours. The 45-year-old has allegedly already constructed two-months worth of adult homework to get him through to the next camp, the latest example of why his appointment was prefaced with warnings to supporters to strap in and invest in emotional airbags.
His first camp certainly validated those warnings. But if Bellamy has achieved anything significant in his first 10 days (barring a first win and four points from six), it is to grant permission to a fanbase too familiar with the anticlimactic fatigue of qualification campaign hangovers to invest once more in that emotional hyper-coaster so soon, which is its own kind of privilege.
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2024-09-10T12:30:24Z dg43tfdfdgfd