England held by Ghana as Kane’s World Cup record bid falls flat in Boston
A goalless draw leaves England frustrated and Harry Kane still searching, as Carlos Queiroz's defensive masterclass keeps the Three Lions at bay.
An anguished England fan in a Brighton shirt threw his poncho into the pelting rain and screamed: “Make them stand in the rain the whole night.” Seconds were tumbling away, the game was meandering, and England fans emboldened after the 4-2 win over Croatia were disillusioned by what they saw in Boston on a shivering evening that ended goalless.’
It was supposed to be another statement night, a chance to match the strides of France and Argentina. Instead it was a toothless attacking display, reminiscent of the end days under Gareth Southgate. England might yet go deep in the tournament, but the performance against Ghana was not an advertisement of their attacking riches. It was a prognosis of their limitations.
There were passages when even the most invested fans turned their heads away, their eyes wandered, their conversation drifted to the England-like weather (though the Bostonians would claim it was so very Boston in summer). Some hollered the names of substitutes, and the bench was stacked with individuals who could conjure a moment of invention. What was needed was an individual act of brilliance rather than a structural rejig. Bellingham was pushed into a playmaker’s role just behind Kane, but found little joy against Ghana’s compact shape.
Tuchel rang in the changes. The Arsenal pair of Eberechi Eze and Bukayo Saka strode in. But it did not puncture Ghana’s belief in their defensive durability. They blocked and blocked until they could block no more. Another England fan griped: “It’s worse than losing. Tell me one decent shot on goal.”
Just then, England had their most incisive spell. Declan Rice drove a free kick powerfully goal-wards that Asare did well to deal with. Saka whipped the ball fiercely at goal moments later, but for goalkeeper Benjamin Asare’s intervention, the Hearts of Oak man making history as the first locally based Ghanaian goalkeeper to start a World Cup match.
The next minute Nico O’Reilly headed powerfully onto the crossbar. The rebound fell to Harry Kane. He skied it into the upper tiers, rounding off a forgettable evening when both his precision and imagination deserted him. And so it ended. “A sticky day,” a fan consoled his friends. Another muttered: “Same old England.” After the game England fans applauded politely. Indifference was written on their faces.
Then, from the Ghana dugout, emerged a familiar figure for English football watchers: Carlos Queiroz, Alex Ferguson’s trusted accomplice in Manchester United’s halcyon days, a human treatise on defensive tactics. A legendary story: before the 2008 Champions League semifinal against Barcelona, to nullify their passing game, Queiroz placed two gym mats between the midfielders and the defenders in training. The ball was not allowed to touch the mats. As Michael Carrick later recalled, for a few minutes Queiroz simply said: don’t let the ball get on those mats. United drew 0-0 at Barcelona and won 1-0 at Old Trafford. Barcelona were kept goalless across both legs.
Ghana defended stoutly, not cynically but clinically. An immovable yellow barricade blocked all probable paths to goal. Like the pawns protecting the queen on a chess board, Tuchel’s favourite pastime, Ghana built a human fortress around the goalmouth. Starting in a 4-2-3-1, they pushed deeper as the game wore on, eventually operating as a compact 5-4-1. Whenever England found a half-chance, Ghana flung bodies at the ball. Declan Rice later credited their organisation: “5-4-1 without the ball, very compact, tight spaces to play through.”
They were not merely defending in numbers but defending intelligently. The speed of their covering was remarkable, giving England as little time on the ball as possible. The defensive block was not stationary. It shape-shifted according to the situation, and whenever England appeared to find a pocket of space, it closed. Slowly England grew ponderous. In the first half Ghana had barely ten percent possession, but their sole purpose was to frustrate England and hold their shape, just as England’s was to press unblinkingly and hope Ghana eventually surrendered to their pressure. Like desperate sleuths plucking the suspects’ nails to gush out the truth, England resorted to every tactic available to crack the Ghanaian wall. Neither side managed a single shot on goal in the first half. Kane’s first meaningful attempt came only in the dying minutes, deflected wide by the telescopic legs of Marvin Senaya.
England needed a genius’s brushstroke. Nothing came. It was their tactical failure too, their inability to thread the ball through crowded defences, to find a Yamal or an Olise moment. Set pieces seemed the likeliest avenue but even those fell flat against a defensive rearguard orchestrated by the man who once neutralised Barcelona with two gym mats and a simple instruction.
An anguished England fan in a Brighton shirt threw his poncho into the pelting rain and screamed: “Make them stand in the rain the whole night.” Seconds were tumbling away, the game was meandering, and England fans emboldened after the 4-2 win over Croatia were disillusioned by what they saw in Boston on a shivering evening that ended goalless.’
It was supposed to be another statement night, a chance to match the strides of France and Argentina. Instead it was a toothless attacking display, reminiscent of the end days under Gareth Southgate. England might yet go deep in the tournament, but the performance against Ghana was not an advertisement of their attacking riches. It was a prognosis of their limitations.
There were passages when even the most invested fans turned their heads away, their eyes wandered, their conversation drifted to the England-like weather (though the Bostonians would claim it was so very Boston in summer). Some hollered the names of substitutes, and the bench was stacked with individuals who could conjure a moment of invention. What was needed was an individual act of brilliance rather than a structural rejig. Bellingham was pushed into a playmaker’s role just behind Kane, but found little joy against Ghana’s compact shape.
Tuchel rang in the changes. The Arsenal pair of Eberechi Eze and Bukayo Saka strode in. But it did not puncture Ghana’s belief in their defensive durability. They blocked and blocked until they could block no more. Another England fan griped: “It’s worse than losing. Tell me one decent shot on goal.”
Just then, England had their most incisive spell. Declan Rice drove a free kick powerfully goal-wards that Asare did well to deal with. Saka whipped the ball fiercely at goal moments later, but for goalkeeper Benjamin Asare’s intervention, the Hearts of Oak man making history as the first locally based Ghanaian goalkeeper to start a World Cup match.
The next minute Nico O’Reilly headed powerfully onto the crossbar. The rebound fell to Harry Kane. He skied it into the upper tiers, rounding off a forgettable evening when both his precision and imagination deserted him. And so it ended. “A sticky day,” a fan consoled his friends. Another muttered: “Same old England.” After the game England fans applauded politely. Indifference was written on their faces.
Then, from the Ghana dugout, emerged a familiar figure for English football watchers: Carlos Queiroz, Alex Ferguson’s trusted accomplice in Manchester United’s halcyon days, a human treatise on defensive tactics. A legendary story: before the 2008 Champions League semifinal against Barcelona, to nullify their passing game, Queiroz placed two gym mats between the midfielders and the defenders in training. The ball was not allowed to touch the mats. As Michael Carrick later recalled, for a few minutes Queiroz simply said: don’t let the ball get on those mats. United drew 0-0 at Barcelona and won 1-0 at Old Trafford. Barcelona were kept goalless across both legs.
Ghana defended stoutly, not cynically but clinically. An immovable yellow barricade blocked all probable paths to goal. Like the pawns protecting the queen on a chess board, Tuchel’s favourite pastime, Ghana built a human fortress around the goalmouth. Starting in a 4-2-3-1, they pushed deeper as the game wore on, eventually operating as a compact 5-4-1. Whenever England found a half-chance, Ghana flung bodies at the ball. Declan Rice later credited their organisation: “5-4-1 without the ball, very compact, tight spaces to play through.”
They were not merely defending in numbers but defending intelligently. The speed of their covering was remarkable, giving England as little time on the ball as possible. The defensive block was not stationary. It shape-shifted according to the situation, and whenever England appeared to find a pocket of space, it closed. Slowly England grew ponderous. In the first half Ghana had barely ten percent possession, but their sole purpose was to frustrate England and hold their shape, just as England’s was to press unblinkingly and hope Ghana eventually surrendered to their pressure. Like desperate sleuths plucking the suspects’ nails to gush out the truth, England resorted to every tactic available to crack the Ghanaian wall. Neither side managed a single shot on goal in the first half. Kane’s first meaningful attempt came only in the dying minutes, deflected wide by the telescopic legs of Marvin Senaya.
England needed a genius’s brushstroke. Nothing came. It was their tactical failure too, their inability to thread the ball through crowded defences, to find a Yamal or an Olise moment. Set pieces seemed the likeliest avenue but even those fell flat against a defensive rearguard orchestrated by the man who once neutralised Barcelona with two gym mats and a simple instruction.
