David Platt

[liverpoolsno9]

I know I shouldn't have started a new thread, but I'm watching the Citeh game at the minute & I have to say I have a totally irrational Fuckin hatred of this moon faced fucker. Not many people in the left in the game who can get me so riled whenever I see them,really really really fuckin can't stand the fat fuckin twattin cunt of a man. Feel a little better getting that off my chest.

[Lurtz]

I was hoping this was like the Jimmy Saville thread on the GF. Sadly fatty platty is still alive.

[xerxes]

Harsh.

 

He is excellent with the bibs and cones.

[Strontium]

Harsh.

 

He is excellent with the bibs and cones.

 

 

Funny, he looks like he should wear a bib when he feeds himself.

[Furmedge]

Head like a peanut Revel.

[zigackly]

David Platt is English football's unexploited asset

Barney Ronay, guardian.co.uk, Friday 28 October 2011 23.04 BST

 

There is more to David Platt than being Roberto Mancini's go-to guy and scoring a wonder goal against Belgium.

 

Various theories have been put forward to explain Manchester City's recent gear shift, the transformation from a rather glum but tectonically irresistible force into the joyful, barrelling talent juggernaut of the past few weeks. Some have pointed to the galvanising effect of Mario Balotelli's loopy charisma, his new status as prankster man-child genius. Others have noted sagely the fine form of David Silva and his terrible, agonising left foot, the kind of foot that means even after Silva has passed the ball it still seems to have a toe or two still attached, guiding the ball like a rudder, inflicting a malevolent intelligence on its trajectory.

 

Little mention has been made of another figure within the City cavalcade. This seems odd given his increasing touchline prominence, the way those unmistakable features have hung like a sallow-hued moon in the background of City's many recent notable goal-leaps and touchline bundles. English football has a great gift for wilful amnesia and voluntary blind spots, but this can only be put off for so long and the time has come. We need to talk about David Platt.

 

Yes: Platt! From a distance it is hard to assess exactly what he does at City. Billed as an assistant coach, he seemed content in early season to frown helpfully on the fringes, sometimes leaning across to mutter a single sage observation into the fronds of Roberto Mancini's tumbling neck-hair. Now though he seems to have displaced Brian Kidd as chief managerial chaperone and high-five go-to guy. Conjoined on the touchline Mancini and Platt look flushed, bright‑eyed, loved-up, like a triumphantly reconfigured man-band in well-groomed middle-age. This is obviously good news for Platt fans. Although that may not be saying very much, mainly because I think I may be pretty much the only one.

 

In English football Platt remains an anomaly of unpopularity. For all his 1990s success in Serie A he has none of the usual left-field compensations of the English exile, no cult following, no air of outsider cool. There are some genuine gripes, mainly the disastrous and destructive spell as manager of Nottingham Forest. But ambient Platt-hate goes beyond anything so concrete. While writing this article I conducted a brief internet survey into its possible sources, the answers to which focused almost entirely on his appearance, with Platt described as "resembling an almond" and (many times) as having an upsettingly fat head (although this is inaccurate as his head just looks a little inflated and distended, like a balloon filled with water, giving him from a distance the look of a man whose head is struggling to emerge from inside a mask of another head).

 

The only coherent objections were a perceived aloofness and a sense of being held culpable for the mediocrity of those around him in the dark shadow of Graham Taylor-era England. This is a great shame for those who witnessed the dawning of the original Age of Platt – a period between 1991 and 1994 when for England supporters he represented all hope, all joy – and who have since seen his name all but airbrushed from history. No discussion of the best England midfielders of modern times will even mention Platt, yet he flourished overseas, has an England goal record (27 in 62) on a par with Alan Shearer and also "did it" in the late stages of a World Cup.

 

Part of the problem perhaps lies in Platt's strangely unengaging style of play: an energetic all-rounder, he still gave the impression of having learned to play football from a 1970s textbook. With England Platt's game was based around his "trademark late runs", a form of highly specialised haring about the place, and a version of playing that tends for long periods not to involve the ball at all. Instead Platt's success dovetailed with Taylor's vision of a high-pressure football-by-numbers, whereby the galloping, knees-high Platt would "ghost" into areas not exactly in – but certainly near – the mixer, sniffing out knockdown-trajectory, calculating flick‑back-angle and developing a paranormal sense of bobble-probability.

 

Perhaps this is why his more refined gifts are disregarded. That last-minute volleyed goal against Belgium was a moment of cold-blooded technical brilliance to trump anything any modern England midfielder has produced at a World Cup. Platt described it as "one of life's rare, perfect moments" and even the hardest heart, its ventricles clogged with Platt-hate, must soften at these words.

 

Despite which his enduring image remains, not respected elder statesman or urbane overachiever; but almond face, fat-head, outsider. Hopefully this will change. For English football Platt is essentially an unexploited asset. There is a great fund of assimilated expertise waiting to be unpacked within that groaning cranium, the varied experiences of a man who has played with Ruud Gullit and Roberto Baggio and been managed by Dario Gradi, Giovanni Trapattoni, Bobby Robson and Arsène Wenger.

 

There is still some residual talk about foreigners and their tendency to come over here and take our football jobs by appearing more competent and assured than our home-reared isolationists. But perhaps in the beautiful friendship between Mancini and his de facto No2 (founded in his courtship of Platt before they became team-mates at Sampdoria) there is a sense of something else, of an overseas manager refunnelling something valuable back into English football; and bringing a well-travelled pragmatist back in from the cold.

[Dan Vito Corleone]

His head is fucking unexploited. It's that big, there has to be some undiscovered oilfields or something in there. It is positively bulbous.

[zigackly]

It's full of hamburger stands. No hamburgers ... just the fucking stands.

[Mbrownrigg]

I concur

[Iceman]

Typical Grauniad typos, it's David Twatt.

[Iceman]

His head is so enormous it has its own Google earth.

[piscinin]

I like him. He gave a talk at an american soccer coaching conference in orlando. A) he was quite funny B) He described the FA as a bunch of knuckle draggers who couldn't understand the difference between 442 and 433.

[VladimirIlyich]

I like him. He gave a talk at an american soccer coaching conference in orlando. A) he was quite funny B) He described the FA as a bunch of knuckle draggers who couldn't understand the difference between 442 and 433.

 

Are you sure you didnt get him mixed up with David Pleat!

[aws]

never liked him since that kerb crawling stuff

[piscinin]

Are you sure you didnt get him mixed up with David Pleat!

 

No it was Platt. He used to be the coach of England U21s or something like that.

[Lurtz]

never liked him since that kerb crawling stuff

 

How come? Did he overcharge? What a bastard.

[sir roger]

My mate was on a freebie at Goodison a few years ago when Platt was managing England's under 21's.

 

After the game ( a loss ) and looking for a toilet my mate somehow ends up alone in a suite with Platt and a couple of ladies setting up a buffet. Platt looked devastated & all Craig could think of to say was ' How does that leave qualification David ?' to which he deadpans ' It fucking well doesn't ' and storms off.

 

Don't really have any feelings positive or negative really & quite admire the way he can speak for minutes without taking a breath.

[VladimirIlyich]

No it was Platt. He used to be the coach of England U21s or something like that.

 

Whoosh!

 

I've always hated his fashion sense too.

[Iceman]

I like him. He gave a talk at an american soccer coaching conference in orlando. A) he was quite funny B) He described the FA as a bunch of knuckle draggers who couldn't understand the difference between 442 and 433.

 

 

Are you sure you didnt get him mixed up with David Pleat!

 

No, Pleat was talking about ATM from a couple of teabaggers who didn't know the difference between room 442 and 433.

[piscinin]

Whoosh!

 

I've always hated his fashion sense too.

 

Go on then, embarrass me!

[Iceman]

[Iceman]

 

Believe it or not, not all beige suits are uncool.

[zigackly]

I like him. He gave a talk at an american soccer coaching conference in orlando. A) he was quite funny B) He described the FA as a bunch of knuckle draggers who couldn't understand the difference between 442 and 433.

 

I'm sure most people are very different in reality to their TV personas. I will never miss a chance to quote Derek and Clive though, and I love Ronay's articles.

[Trumo]

There was a period after Lineker quit international football, where Platt was the England team's main source of goals. As mentioned earlier in this thread, Graham Taylor's strategy seemed geared to allowing Platt to take advantage of any knock downs. Which he was very adept at. As a footballer though, I never quite knew what he did in midfield, other than make late runs into the box.

[Jose Jones]

There was a period after Lineker quit international football, where Platt was the England team's main source of goals. As mentioned earlier in this thread, Graham Taylor's strategy seemed geared to allowing Platt to take advantage of any knock downs. Which he was very adept at. As a footballer though, I never quite knew what he did in midfield, other than make late runs into the box.

 

Yeah, that's all he did.

Mind you that's all Michel Platini did (or Michael Platt, David's french uncle) and he's consistently lauded as one of the best players of all time.

 

Platini might have been a bit better at it than Platt.