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Di Bradini Cup 32/U21WC53 RP/Roster/Scores Thread

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Mizuyuki
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Founded: Mar 25, 2013
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Postby Mizuyuki » Thu Oct 16, 2014 2:09 am


Three Points - Mizuyuki versus the Calanian Union
Thoughts and opinions on the DBC semifinal match and the Little Nova's campaign thus far

A composed, confident display in Wild Grounds saw Mizuyuki's U21 team, the Little Nova, edge out their Mertian counterparts by a narrow 1-0 scoreline in the DBC semifinals. Despite the relative paucity of goals, the Little Nova did just enough to see off their opponents on the day, helped by an all action rearguard effort and a midfield who put in the hard yards on the day. Here are five thoughts from the game, brought to you by our specialist panel.

1. Shirazaka's defensive 4-2-3-1 working wonders

One might think that defensive formations and tactical setups would be anathema to a Mizuyuki-jin, given the general national predilection for vibrant, attacking football. One would be totally wrong - on one count, anyway. The mastermind behind the Little Nova's spectacular run to the final of this edition's DBC, Shirazaka Kaede, has displayed her tactical astuteness by choosing an alternative which has more than proven its worth - the defensive 4-2-3-1. While her preferred tactical setup might look deceptively similar to that preferred by senior manager Shirakiin Kurumi, Shirazaka has managed to introduce an admirable defensive solidity to her team that belies their age and experience by the simple expedient of instructing her players to sit deeper. Throughout the DBC, she has only made radical tactical changes once - in the game against Abanhfleft - with the Little Nova's starting XI usually seeing Iseya and Kasugano sitting deep just a yard or two ahead of their center backs, with Miyashiro and Sakuranami playing a more withdrawn role in the pivot.

Her preferred setup has been a most effective remedy to the traditional porousness of Mizuyukian defences - although the team did concede five goals over four matches in the group stage, including a 3-3 humdinger of a match against the Holy Republican Empire as well as a 3-2 defeat of Filopines, it is well worth noting that these two matches were against relatively attacking teams which were set up specifically to attack. The Little Nova managed to extract a very credible four points from these two matches, while their concessions can perhaps be attributed to a bedding-in period for Shirazaka's newly implemented defensive system. The team also kept two clean sheets in their four group stage matches - a comprehensive 3-0 defeat of Patistan and a scoreless stalemate against Semarland which highlighted their ability to keep clean sheets when it mattered the most.

The Little Nova's defence truly shone in the knockout stages. By this stage fully acclimatised to their new tactical setup after four games in which to get a feel for it, their miserliness was on show throughout the three knockout stage matches; first a solid display in a 0-0 draw against the United States of Devonta, which ultimately ended in a 6-5 penalty shootout victory, followed up by a highly convincing shutout against Abanhfleft, limiting the talented Fleftics to a couple of credible half chances throughout the ninety minutes. But their true masterclass came in the semifinals against the Calanian Union - a committed defensive performance saw key threats almost completely forced out of the game. In particular, Iseya and Kasugano had a field day up against the Mertian attack, cleaning up danger with consummate ease, while the midfield pivot played their part in ensuring that the Mertian midfield did not have a chance to make their impact on proceedings.

She is also blessed with a variety of tactical options that have not been available to the senior team - in particular the effective, if unspectacular, captain of the team, Miyashiro Tsubaki. Thus far, the defensive midfielder has been going about her job quietly, yet she has been an integral cog in the whole; against the Calanian Union, she was again at her best, mopping up in the centre of the park while ensuring that their most potent attackers - Sixton, Crespo and Rinaldi - did not get any joy down the middle. Miyashiro's disciplined defensive steel perfectly complements Sakuranami's natural attacking flair, allowing the playmaker to wander up in support of Mizuyukian attacks in the knowledge that her partner would be behind her mopping up dangerous breaks and loose balls. It is this flourishing partnership that has seen multiple opponents dispatched with relative ease - Miyashiro is as reliable a defender as you can get, while Sakuranami's enigmatic talents mean that she is entirely capable to setting a match on fire on her own. It is a potent combination - and it is a perfect suit for Shirazaka's system.

2. Samukawa needs to rediscover her sharpness in front of goal

A solid defensive is all well and good, but you need to put chances away at the other end of the pitch if you're to have a hope of being a world-beating team. Unfortunately for the Little Nova, their newfound defensive solidity has been accompanied by a corresponding decline in their attacking prowess - having scored a total of two goals over three knockout stage matches, a positively anemic statistic - it is clear that the attack needs to step up a notch if they are to be on par with their defensive counterparts. Only Uryū Kaori's contributions at the opposing end of the pitch have made a difference in key matches thus far - it's worth noting that Uryū is a regular starter for the senior team - and with that sole exception, the attack have really looked off the pace when up against a well-organised, resilient defence. Against the Calanian Union, they were again the spitting image of a lost lamb - wandering all around the pitch while simultaneously managing to be singularly anonymous.

In particular, forward Samukawa has been looking distracted and lost out there on the pitch. Often tasked with the job of installing the first line of defence high up the pitch, she has been enthusiastic in going about her job, often throwing herself into tackles with all the zest of a center back. Indeed, her harassment and pressing has been crucial in creating openings for the Little Nova - but all that does not hide a simple truth. Samukawa is an out-and-out striker whose main contribution is putting the ball into the net, not defending from the front. Her eagerness to play her role for the team is encouraging, but Shirazaka must realise that Samukawa is simply unsuited to a roving defensive brief in the middle of the park; she only really thrives in and around the area where she can plunder goals at her leisure.

For an example of the qualities she brings to the table, see the 3-0 drubbing of Patistan in the group stages - deployed in an advanced role against the hapless Patistanis, Samukawa was given free rein to torment their defence. She duly notched a brace within the sixty-five minutes she was on the pitch. Her contribution to the other goal was noteworthy as well - robbing the ball from the Patistani defence deep inside the attacking third, she muscled her way past the defence and delivered an inviting cross-goal pass for Sakuranami, who needed no second invitation to score. It is a fine example of what Samukawa can do when utilised correctly - and the onus in on Shirazaka to extract every last drop of performance from Samukawa come what may. If she can get her misfiring forward firing on all cylinders in time for the final against Nephara, Tess Riether's players will more than likely be given a hell of a migraine on the day.

Aside from tactical reasons, fitness may also be an issue in Samukawa's decline over the past few matches, as she is known to be especially injury-prone when playing in an extended run of matches over a short space of time. The DBC's schedule thus far has been nothing short of hectic, and Samukawa's status as first choice has meant that she has started every single match of the Little Nova's gruelling DBC campaign. Shirazaka has tried to wrap her star forward in cotton wool whenever she has had the chance, but up until now the Little Nova have not been able to establish commanding leads in their matches to allow the manager that luxury. The significant drop-off in form that Samukawa has experienced is reminiscent of her own collapse with Karijuku Lirin last cycle; given the chance to impress after an injury to the starting forward, Samukawa performed remarkably well for a sustained period before spectacularly misfiring. It was later revealed that the forward had sustained ligament damage in a particularly bruising match but continued to play on through the pain. The Little Nova's medic team have confirmed that Samukawa is clear to play in the final against the Nepharim - let's hope that the decline in form is nothing that cannot be fixed with some tactical tinkering and a good long rest.

Either way, Samukawa knows that she will need to make an impact against Tess Riether's defence - we can only hope that she will be fit and raring to go on the day.

3. Sakuranami is too good to be playing U21 football

Whenever the term midfield maestro crops up in a conversation, Mizuyuki's very own Tomoe Ishibashi comes to mind. The silky playmaker is unparalleled in her ability to unpick securely locked defences; it is a key part of her armoury, one that has made her an indispensable part of Shirakiin Kurumi's first-choice starting XI. However, she may finally be confronted with a real challenger in the space of a few years; Shirazaka's ersatz version of Ishibashi, Sakuranami Koeda, has all the raw talent to give Ishibashi a real run for her money. Such is the sheer quality of the deep-lying playmaker that she has already been billed as some as the long-term successor to Ishibashi despite being only two years her junior.

We've already been blessed with glimpses of the supreme talent that Sakuranami possesses in spades over the course of this tournament; especially in the Little Nova's match against Filopines, where the petite playmaker provided a peach of an assist for Samukawa, single handedly decimating the Filopinian defence. It was only due to some profligate finishing on the part of the attack that Sakuranami didn't end up with more assists on the day; nevertheless, she later added another to her tally by slipping a slide rule pass to Uryū, which the winger duly dispatched first time past the Filopinian 'keeper. In recent matches, she has also shown flashes of her quality; in the Little Nova's last match against the Calanian Union, the midfielder conjured up a 30 yard cross field pass that left the Mertian defence flat-footed, split right down the middle by a sublime piece of magic, they couldn't recover in time to prevent Uryū from placing a delicate finish past Medici's flailing dive. In many ways, Sakuranami's play is reminiscent of Ishikawa Haruka dictating play from midfield five years ago, and she is certainly more technically accomplished than the former national team midfielder is.

Sakuranami's talent may well be impressive, but her attitude and consistency is something that urgently needs work. A player of her calibre should be playing at peak level week in, week out, if she is to truly become a great of the Mizuyukian game. However, she has shown an unfortunate tendency to disappear from games whenever given special attention - against Devonta, the midfielder was unable to effect her usual influence on the game as she was overrun by the Devontan midfield. Late in the game, Shirazaka saw the first signs of despondency in her play and duly hauled Sakuranami off for the more industrious Kamazaki. It is a sign of the manner in which Sakuranami can be neutralised by a team possessing the requisite know-how, and it is certainly one of the few blemishes that still plague Sakuranami's game to this day. As of now, Sakuranami remains reliant not on tactical instruction and disciplined play, but on her creative instincts and slightly selfish tendency to waltz her way through the opposition defence. She won't find top-class opposition nearly as easy to break down as the Little Nova's recent opponents have been, however, and it is imperative that she work on her game more so that she can impose herself on proceedings no matter the quality of the opposition.

Even her most ardent critics wouldn't go so far as to call Sakuranami talentless. She does still have a ways to go before she can be considered truly world class - and she can take the next step towards that goal by turning in a truly match-winning performance in the final.
Last edited by Mizuyuki on Thu Oct 16, 2014 4:47 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Mizuyuki
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Founded: Mar 25, 2013
Ex-Nation

Postby Mizuyuki » Thu Oct 16, 2014 3:21 am

I've always had a penchant for the spectacular.

In many ways it makes me perfect for the job I do; it's pretty much slap dash in the job description - 'only person(s) possessing flair in copious amounts need apply' is how I like to think of it. Thanks to the nature of the billet, job security is something I have in spades at the moment, relatively speaking; you never know with these things. But one thing I can safely say - five years ago, I would never have dared to imagine. I would never have dared to dream.

I would never have thought that I would have a career in football.

Were you to ask a ten-year-old me whether I'd be doing the same thing I am today in the future, I'd probably have scoffed indignantly at you. Not without feeling, not without heat; but underneath, I would probably be gasping at the sensation of a serrated knife drawn across my heart.

Back in the day, I was a short wisp of a little girl, a far cry from the fifteen-year-old me today, who could only dream of playing as a winger. When the time came to pick teams, chances were that I would be left out, told to go play by myself and not bother the cool kids. Whenever I did make it on a team, it would usually be with a disgusted snort and a sardonic 'don't make a hash of things out there'.

I did my best out there. I always did. I ran my heart out, I gave my all for the team. Whenever I got a touch of the precious ball, I would suppress my instincts. My instincts always told me to do the unthinkable. 'Take the ball and run the length of the pitch! Stick it in the back of the net and make them eat humble pie!' But I knew that I could never have done it. Not the cowardly crybaby that I was back then. Instead, I'd heed instructions and hoof the ball up the pitch; though I often only managed to slice the ball out of play.

Sometimes I would get royally shat on, to use a most descriptive foreign phrase, by my team. The play, as was usual for impromptu kickabouts, was unorthodox; the assignment of positions crazy. The job no one wanted to be stuck with was defence. If you played brilliantly, no one so much as acknowledged your contribution; if you played like a crab with chilblains, you'd cop the most shit. Not that you wouldn't deserve it, but that's beside the point. Anyone who was even remotely decent rushed headlong up the pitch to scrap for that coveted attacking spot; meanwhile, I was the unlucky sod who always got the unenviable task of being the last man.

It was the stuff of nightmares, to say the least. You set your team up with a girl standing at less than 130, and you're gonna get yourself a sure recipe for defensive disaster. Time and time again I was outmuscled, time and time again I was bodychecked, and time and time again I found myself sprawled face down in congealing mud, unable to stop even the simplest of attacks. No thanks to my body.

I always got yelled at. 'Runt' and 'imbecile' were among the more decent names I'd get called on a regular basis. If I'd had a good day out, I'd maybe get a grudging word of praise - 'you did okay out there today'. But one slip, one misjudged clearance, and the vultures would once again be circling - pecking out every scrap of what little dignity I still had with their sharp beaks.

Despite all the shit that I got, I stuck at it. I stuck gamely at it. Whenever the cool kids were on short, I'd be the first to race across the assembly ground to volunteer. Soon, I became a regular spectator; whenever someone needed a last-ditch sub, they'd call on me. And I would be away, stumbling as my short legs pistoned across the uneven pitch, to join my new friends for a game. I never questioned my commitment to football; it was simply something that was in my blood, something that I had to express by booting a ball around a field.

Walking home from school one day, I stopped at an ice-cream stall for a popsicle. The summer days were sweltering, and it had become my usual routine to drop in and buy a cool, refreshing treat from the kindly old ice-cream lady. As I handed over my assortment of spare change in return for the popsicle, I caught a glimpse of an advert, stuck to the side of the icebox by the moisture.

Curious gal that I was, I squatted down, licking my popsicle, and peered at the ad. Thanks to the beads of water rolling down the side of the icebox, the ink on the ad had run like crazy - 'football training camp' were about the words I could make out. Abruptly, I knew that I wanted to attend. I wanted to make a right good go at being a real footballer, not some lame kid regularly copping shit for wanting to play football. I just knew.

Standing up, I thanked the ice-cream lady and then asked if I could take the sopping ad. I was lucky that the lady just happened to have another - apparently the guy in charge of sticking them in the paper had slipped in two by mistake - and I gratefully accepted the yellow piece of A4 paper that was proffered.

In many ways, that day changed my life.

Scrimping and pinching my pennies, I managed to collect enough cash for a spot at the camp - which was, coincidentally, being run by my gaffer right now. But she was still just a U21 coach then, scouting Misaka for hidden talents. When the day came, I happily tripped off to camp with newly purchased boots in tow - I say newly purchased, but in actuality it was just a second hand pair that the rich kids had dumped on to me for a paltry sum.

The training was difficult, strenuous and exhausting. The gaffer was every bit as demanding as she is today; every time I didn't manage to pull off a drill perfectly, she'd yell at me and order me back for seconds. But I could feel that her heart was really in it as she bellowed at me; I could feel that she truly cared about me, my development as a football player. She really cared. It was something that made her such a great coach, even now.

Whenever I had days off from the camp, I would traipse over to the pitch and watch the grown-ups play. I dreamed of being able to send cross field passes lofting into the sky, I dreamed of delivering an inch-perfect pass into the path of a marauding striker, I dreamed of scoring a long range thunderbolt. All those, I decided, I would do - one day. One day.

In the meantime, I continued to play with my mates at school. There was no making up for my stature, but I'd be damned if I'd lie down and feel sorry for myself. Bit by bit, I continued to improve - the gaffer's coaching was working its wonders. Soon enough, I was able to hold my own in defence - if I couldn't best them physically, I would compensate for it by being in the right place, at the right time, to steal the ball.

The day finally came. Nosing down the pitch in support, a botched clearance found itself bouncing on the pitch - and I was the nearest player. Soon enough I had the errant ball trapped under my boot. I looked up, I listened up; and I could hear yelling - 'give me the ball!' - 'Here, here!'. But I ignored all those pleas for the ball.

I still don't know why I did it. But that day, out there on the pitch, I made damned sure that I did it perfectly. Shimmying past a burly opposition defender rushing to close me down, I deftly knocked the ball past him.

'Control. It's all about the control. Remember that.' The gaffer's words echoed in my ears as I caressed the ball with my instep. Yes, control was all-important for me; not as a defender, but as a talented winger in my own right.

With a slight movement, I nudged the ball to my right. I kept my eye on it even as it spun away from me - I was going to hit it. And I could feel the years of bitterness, of sadness, of disappointment, flowing through my foot as I raised it to connect with the ball. I knew then that I was going to hit the target, and with it, I would leave behind all those painful memories - here on the pitch, where they belonged.

I struck the ball. It was a fluid movement; the sweetest connection I think I've ever achieved. In that heartbeat, I felt my long suppressed emotions being released; and it was manifested in the swerving motion of the ball, the sharp dip that it took, the familiar sight of the ball bulging in the net, and the realisation that I had finally broken that self-imposed barrier.

I had been shackled to lies, hidden behind excuses, drowning in a sea of self-pity, before this. But from now on, I determined that things would be different.

And they were.

After the match, which I have a vague memory of ending in a draw for us despite my long range scorcher, I trooped to football camp, bursting to tell the gaffer about my breakthrough. When I got there, however, I saw the gaffer deeply engaged in conversation with an official looking sort, the type with a pen tucked in their breast pocket and a briefcase under their shoulder.

I ended up remaining there for the better part of ten minutes, waiting for the gaffer to be free to talk to me. When the gaffer saw me standing in the doorway, she abruptly called a halt to the conversation and sent the man on his way. As he slipped by me, I could see a list of names on a posh looking piece of paper along with their identification numbers.

Slowly, I sidled up to the gaffer and poked her arm with a finger. Reacting to the stimulus, she turned her eyes on me and gave me the warmest smile I'd ever received from her.

'I'm going to make you a star, Kaori.'



Dancing down the pitch, with the ball glued to my feet, beneath the glaring brilliant beams cast by the overhead lights; it all seems like such a long time now. I no longer feel the sadness, the pain, that I felt all those years ago.

All that remains now is the ghost of a echo, a blast from the past that still reverberates in the caverns of my soul. But I will remember it. I will hold that memory close to my heart. It reminds me of my humble roots, the stroke of luck I had along the way, the sheer hard work that it took for me to get to where I am now.

I still remember the falls, the moments, the memories that still lie scattered across that pitch. I will never forget that muddy field in Shiratori.
This nation has been retired.
Please direct any and all communications intended for the user behind this nation to Kirisaki.

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Equestrian States
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Founded: Dec 15, 2011
Left-wing Utopia

Postby Equestrian States » Thu Oct 16, 2014 7:01 pm

DI BRADINI CUP 32
FINAL

Image Nephara 1-1 Mizuyuki Image
(1-1 AET) (3-4 pen.)
at Royal Equestria Stadium in Canterlot



Congratulations to our first-time winner of the Di Bradini Cup, and commiserations to the runner-up for barely missing out on claiming their first title. Furthermore, thank you to everyone who participated and made this tournament a blast for me to host.
Last edited by Equestrian States on Thu Oct 16, 2014 7:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
83rd World Cup Champions
58th & 59th AOCAF Cup Champions
5x World Cup, 2x Cup of Harmony, 1x Baptism of Fire, 2x World Cup of Hockey, 3x World Baseball Classic, 1x World Bowl, 2x International Basketball Championship Host

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