Originally published for The False Nine on February 21 2013.
Phil Jones’ second season at Manchester United began muted by injury. The sight of him initially struggling to find form felt strangely and shamefully satisfying, and yet as he limped off on Monday night against Reading the only thoughts that one could conjure were those of loss and interruption.
A series of gut-busting displays last year flicked the switch on the Phil Jones hype machine, which quickly spiralled out of control. In no time at all, the versatile young defender was being touted as the nation’s latest elemental wonderkid and a future saviour and captain of England. It appeared amorphous potential and purely physical gifts had once again seduced pundits into holding faith in one of English football’s most dangerous and enduring myths: the cult of the individual hero.
Thanks to his gurning enthusiasm, Jones was soon praised from on high as the latest wild prodigy of England – a player of such capacity that his mere presence flies the face of the complicated and unnecessary intellectualism of tactics. Fortunately, it is Sir Alex Ferguson and not some blinkered Luddite who steers the young defender’s progress. Continue reading