“That’s one small step for Martial; one giant leap for mankind.” – Neil A. Armstrong
The one problem with the information age is that few things come as a surprise. The individual may be ignorant to many things, but the collective is knowledgeable beyond bounds. Whether it is born of genuine insight or the bastard child of muddy conjecture, anyone can become a faux expert on anything within a matter of minutes.
No where is that more evident than for the planet’s greatest pastime. Football is an obsession to millions around the world, and thus the element of surprise is lost. World Cups of yesteryear used to be things of wonder, as viewers around the world were collectively introduced to names unknown and talents unseen.
For better or for worse, that is now history. Whenever a prospective transfer target is mooted on social media, their namecheck is greeted with a barrage of blogs, scouting reports and FM screengrabs. Before long you know everything you didn’t need to know about the subject’s speed, strength, power and inside-leg measurements.
Whether the tsunami of stats, opinions and YouTube compilations are useful or (more often) not, they all add up to no fun. Your own sense of intrigue and excitement is coloured by thousands of keyboard oracles. In the obscene clamour to be seen as ‘in-the-know’, blissful ignorance is the real victim.
But then there’s the joyful anomaly. A player so fresh from his polyester packaging that there is pretty much nowt to go on – even for the would-be ITKs. Your usual go-to sources for semi-informed analysis draw a blank, and the only video evidence is a couple of nondescript games and a training session goal.
Enter Anthony Martial. When Manchester United signed the 19-year-old from AS Monaco for an initial £36m rising to £520m, there was wholesale bewilderment, closely followed by gleeful mocking. The Axis of Ineptitude, Ed Woodward and Louis van Gaal, had lost their minds with a panic buy to end all panic buys.
No one is laughing now. The merciless memes and rent-a-quote pundits didn’t have a clue – none of us did. The Frenchman has been nothing short of a revelation, and continues to be an unravelling and beguiling gift to the English game. Perhaps most thrilling of all, we are all on a voyage of discovery together.
Against Sunderland, Martial had his best game for Untied so far. He didn’t make it onto the scoresheet, but he showcased a whole new array of skills. To add to his silky-smooth finishing, there was the ability to hold up the ball, intelligent movement across the frontline, and wonderfully accomplished wing play.
All this and more has come as a complete surprise to everyone, and there is something so refreshing about that. When the player elicits astounded gasps for his mesmeric footwork or searing bursts of pace, they are universal. No one is there at your shoulder to smugly say: ‘I told you so’. Because no one did.
As well as ubiquitous stupefaction, the other facet of this wonderkid’s arrival that stands out is his startling slickness. He is far from the finished product and still a mere child in footballing terms, but for a raw talent he’s notably lacking in rawness. He is that rare phenomenon – a diamond who came ready-polished.
Who knows what the future will bring. The youngster may burn brightly, only to fizzle away in time. But for now we can relish the naive joy of seeing him sparkle before our eyes. Anthony Martial is the meteor who came from nowhere and shocked us all; the boy who fell to Earth.
