www.Shearer9.com Hundred-goal enigma Rob Hughes, football correspondent, on a striker who never seems to
fail for his club but seldom succeeds for his country The strike was deadly, and somehow the epitome of English football in 1995. Alan Shearer, his back to goal outside the penalty area, suddenly twisted and turned away from Gary Mabbutt and drove the ball, violently, decisively beyond the reach of Ian Walker, the Tottenham Hotspur goalkeeper. Ewood Park, built, it sometimes seems, as a steel monument to the reliable goalscoring of Shearer, erupted in celebration of him becoming, easily, the first man to hit 100 goals since the FA Carling Premiership began 3 1/2 years ago. For sheer strength of mind and muscle, for his refusal to be inhibited either by serious knee injury or by the knocks of his trade, Shearer deservedly stands ahead of Les Ferdinand, 78 Premiership goals, Andy Cole, 72, Ian Wright, 66, and the apprentice, Robbie Fowler, already 53. Yet, when Shearer swaps the blue and white of Blackburn Rovers for the white of England, he is like Superman without his cape. He has had a barren year. In fact, it is 15 months, and ten internationals, since Shearer last scored. When representing Blackburn in Europe, he also loses the plot: his only goal in six Champions' League games this season came from the penalty spot. Ten of Shearer's 34 league goals last season were also penalties; but back to the hundredth Alan Shearer Premiership goal, scored in his 124th game. Perhaps Mabbutt could have sensed which way Shearer would turn and strike; after all, his right foot is the renowned finishing tool. In addition, Walker, England's No 3 goalkeeper, did not look alert when the ball came, like a missile, his way. Is this, perhaps, one reason why Shearer is so irrepressible on home soil, and less so when the opponents are foreign? There can be three avenues of investigation: (a) That Shearer does not carry the same conviction into the England shirt (b) That he is not served as well as he readily admits he is at the heart of the Blackburn machine (c) That overseas footballers are cleverer, read the game, anticipate, and intercept One can use the analogy of motor racing. Blackburn Rovers could be like the racing car, set up specifically for him for his build, his movement, his intent rather like the Formula One car prepared for Michael Schumacher. Mike Newell, for example, is the primer, the provider, the selfless runner who sets up so much for Shearer. That is not to say that anyone else could emulate his consistency. Look at the man, and you see a willingness to trade English blow for blow. Listen to him and you hear the same repetitive explanation: that he could never score his goals were it not for the good and the great players around him. Dare one ask if the providers of Blackburn are, by this definition, more accom plished, more attuned to Shearer, than those of the England national team? If you wish to irritate him, then do so. He will repeat, again and again, that he never has voiced disaffection with his role, often as the lone out-and-out striker, in Terry Venables's line-up. "Of course I wish I'd scored more times for England," he said, "but you don't always get exactly what you want in this game." That does not, however, answer the conundrum. There is not a hint of suggestion that Shearer ever gives less than his best for anyone. Indeed, if ever a man's physical effort, his straining to do well for the team, could transfer itself to the eyes of the onlooker, then one would never question Shearer's input. My own suspicion is that his wonderful straightforward approach, built on strength and unerring expectation of scoring, lacks the guile for international football. There he faces not one, but two opponents a marker attempting to stick closer than a brother to his hide, and a sweeper, a spare defender ever lurking and watchful, ready once Shearer turns away from his marker as he did from Mabbutt on Saturday. Yet England have failed, for those ten matches and more, to "rest" Shearer, to see if someone swifter, more cunning, almost as prolific, might better suit international requirements. I think of Ferdinand, without claiming that he could ever outscore Shearer, the best of his breed in England, but just might gel internationally. Down the years, nobody has transferred from league football to the international scene more readily for England than Jimmy Greaves, who scored 357 times in 514 league games, and 44 goals in 57 internationals for his country. Gerd Müller, the German who struck 628 goals for Bayern Munich and 68 goals in 62 internationals, once told me that there is no difference between club and national team duty. "I have this instinct for knowing when a defence is going to relax, or when a defender will make a mistake," Müller said. "Something inside me says, 'Gerd, go this way, Gerd, go that'. I don't know what it is." No living Englishman knows, either, why Shearer can appear to apply the same philosophy playing for his club yet lose the instinct for England. If it is not the opposition, nor the way that the formation is set up around him, then we shall go to Euro 96 collectively scratching our heads about the goalscorer who is both the best and the most barren in our colours.
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