In the 150 or so years of the sports existence, the way we approach tactics and formations has changed dramatically.
In the 1870’s just playing a short pass was akin to witchcraft. Derby School are the first team to definitively play a short pass as part of an attacking move, as is described in a newspaper report from the time –
“Mr Absey dribbling the ball half the length of the field delivered it to Wallis, who kicking it cleverly in front of the goal, sent it to the captain who drove it at once between the Nottingham posts”.
At the same time, Cambridge University football club innovated the first example of proper positional play and structured formation. The famous 2-3-5 reverse pyramid the first wildly successful tactic to take the world by storm.
Ironically 150 years later, 5-3-2 would become a stalwart of the football world as sides of all statures began to see success with a regular pyramid.
Huge innovations have always been an integral part of football’s longevity. With 11 players on the pitch and such a wide variety of skills and abilities that are intrinsic to the game, there’s so much room for invention.
Now, a new revelation is on the horizon. Relationism. The most flood footballing system yet. So fluid it sheds the dated concept of positional play.
But as exciting and innovative as it is, the blueprints have been running through Brazillian football’s DNA for decades.
This is as chaotic a system as you’ll have ever seen, and for all its complexities if done perfectly, can leave even the best teams flummoxed.
What is Relationism?
The principles of relationism aren’t new concepts that have sprung up overnight, with many of the core features rooted in Brazillian football.
There are many principles of this revolutionary style of football, with the first being so simple, you’ll have come across it in every match you’ve watched.
‘Toco y me voy’
Meaning “I play and I go” is essentially boiled down to the very concept instilled into all footballers at a young age, pass and move.
Don’t admire your pass, find a new space to occupy that is further up the pitch.
It’s nothing new. In positional playing, it’s often utilised, but unlike being exclusive to certain attackers, or these sort of give-and-go plays happening every so often, the give-and-go is an intrinsic part of the playstyle.
And as players bomb forward, there are obviously players to drop into their defensive space to cover.
We’ve seen this before as part of positional play, but think of relationism as the ‘Free Jazz’ spin-off.
There is a constant motion when taken to its extreme. Every time a ball is passed, the passer is bombing elsewhere on the pitch to either find space to make a pass or create space for someone else.
When done perfectly it’s almost impossible to keep track of all the movement in real-time, and that’s just from a spectator at home with a birdseye view.
‘The Tabela’
The notion of the ‘Tabela’ goes hand in hand with the “I play and I go” mantra. Without the Tabela, there is no way to go forward and receive the ball.
Often resembling the British idea of a ‘Wall Pass’ the player who receives the initial pass in the one-two, plays the ball back to the initial passer after he charges into more dangerous space.
A perfect example of Toco y me voy and the Tabela in practice is the Neymar goal vs. Croatia at the 2022 World Cup.
When I first saw it, as much as it was a quick move with a one-two that I’ve seen before, but the movement off the ball was different from almost any other goal of similar ilk.
It was like Croatia just stopped playing, or more so they couldn’t do anything about it.
Another such example is that classic Jack Wilshere goal for Arsenal against Norwich. Giroud operates as the perfect Tabela, performing two in quick succession to put Wilshere completely clear in barely a second.
Giroud is a great example of a relationist number 9, a striker who is much more than just a finisher and can often be seen making himself available for wall passes.
‘Escadinhas’
The next integral part of this system comes in an emphasis on moving the ball up the field diagonally. Not necessarily moving the ball from one wing to the other through the middle of the field, but rather focussing on players creating diagonal ladders to climb up the pitch.
Players form diagonal lines to help facilitate the moving of the ball up the pitch, with these ladders known in Portuguese as ‘Escadinhas’.
The concept has been around since as early as 1940’s Brazil, but was properly displayed to the world in the 1958 World Cup. One of the first teams to heavily encourage overlapping full-backs, the subtle variations in position create Escadinhas that run throughout the team.
These diagonal corridors are much harder to defend. The dummy is an extremely powerful tool in many scenarios in which Escadinahas occur.
So powerful in fact, that it has its own name and is an intrinsic part of playing with Escadinhas. Corta Luz, meaning cut the lights refers to sort of pulling the wool over a defender’s eyes.
Playing the ball to feet to the middle man, as he lets it run to the further forward player behind him, acting as a screen is one such way Escadinhas open up defences.
But the Corta Luz is a little more than just a dummy. It’s all about the feint, the art of making every defender certain you are going to touch the ball and stop its forward momentum, before the wool-over-eyes moment.
That moment where suddenly a player has beaten two men without touching the ball, and a different player now finds himself one-on-one with the keeper.
Like everything else mentioned you’ll have seen it all before, but when everything is used in conjunction with each other football becomes chaos.
When combined with Tabelas and the ‘I play and I go’ style of movement, attacking overloads can occur frighteningly fast. Sometimes 3 or 4 players all peel off at once which thanks to the diagonal lines the players utilise, allows for a huge creation of space to play into.
A perfect example of the Corta Luz is the Andy Cole goal against Barcelona in the 1998 Champions League tie.
But What Does This All Boil Down to?
I’ve talked about the variations in attacking movement, but this is just free-flowing attacking movement, it’s nothing you couldn’t see in classic positional play. The core concept that makes relationism so different, is the the clumping of players around the ball.
Positions are relative to where the ball is. It’s certainly something we’ve seen before, but when taken to its logical conclusion, this is more than just a press. The team’s shape is an ever-fluid, ever-evolving entity, both attacking and defensively.
This clumping occurs on the wings, it’s typically a poor tactical decision to play in such a way when the ball is in the middle, as the flanks quickly become exposed, as wide players get drawn inwards.
But this is more than just a defensive strategy. By defending in such a way, those diagonal Escadinhas can quickly manifest when the ball is won back, as a good team will create these ladders within seconds of winning a ball back.
Too much space and there is no way for a reliable Escadinha to form. It’s about rapid transitional play.
This is known as tilting, the idea of forcing the play to one side, it can be used to foster both defensive and attacking advantage. More teammates in close proximity means more ways to play around the opposition’s defence.
So why can’t teams just counter if the relationist team is throwing players forward?
The huge advantage of tilting is the fact that if the ball is on the wing with a swath of players in the way, it’s very easy to simply force a throw-in and quickly re-group. It sounds simple, even stupid, but the sideline is the defensive crux relationism relies on to prevent counterattacks.
Why bother keeping 4 players back at all times, when you can just concede a throw and back off? Or better yet win a throw by constricting the space the opponent has to play in.
Essentially, by playing close to the touchline, if the opponents win the ball back, they have very limited angles to escape, and face either putting the ball out or losing possession and finding themselves even more vulnerable than before.
Tilts also allow for huge space on the opposite flank. Usually, the opposite winger has tucked inside occupying the middle of the field to provide an option, which in turn leaves acres of space on the other flank.
In these situations, only one position can fill that space without compromising the system. The Full-back.
It is this exact notion that facilitated perhaps the most famous goal of all time, The 1970 Brazil team’s final goal of the final, as Carlos Alberto surged down the flank, all while Brazil had a tilt on the left side of the pitch, which leaves Alberto unmarked and free to hammer home.
Finally, when playing using these tilts, unpredictability is important. Sometimes going back is to go forward. Patience is sometimes often key. If there was constant movement players would tire and the chaos would be too predictable.
The ball needs to go into the centre sometimes but rarely stays there longer than 1 or two passes. Furthermore, switching the ball to the other flank is incredibly powerful, but should only be done if the option is guaranteed to create a chance.
A poor choice in switching results in a total breakdown of the tilt. The ball is now on the other side of the pitch, and we now have the opposite of a tilt, as a player is left isolated. Even if the switch seems progressive, it is only the right option if a chance is guaranteed to come from it.
