历史上各种流行战术（极）简介。
链式防守那里暗搓搓地黑了呆梨一把。
From 2-3-5 to gegenpress: how football's tactical fads have come and gone
by Jonathan Liew
Five Strikers (the 2-3-5)
Football's default formation from around the 1880s to the 1920s, although Pep Guardiola is making a bold stab at reviving it with Bayern Munich. It was the sport's first real tactical innovation; until then, gameplans pretty much ran along the lines of "RIGHT, CHAAAARGE!" But by moving a striker further back to direct play, it heralded the transformation of football from a dribbling game to a predominantly passing-based game. Its influence is still felt today: ever wondered why full-backs are numbered 2 and 3? In this formation, they were the two players furthest back.
The W-M
Inspired by the great Arsenal manager Herbert Chapman, the W-M was a response to the new, relaxed offside rule introduced in 1925, which forced teams to play an extra defender. To compensate, Chapman moved the inside forwards further back, allowing his teams to dominate midfield. Not until the 1950s did it finally meet its end, when Hungary's 6-3 win at Wembley showed that the W-M could be pulled apart by fluid movement and quick interchanges. It did, however, make a brief resurgence in the Napper McCann children's books of the 1980s.
Catenaccio
A concept misunderstood and traduced in equal measure, these days catenaccio (chain) is essentially used as a synonym for "those dirty cheating Italians". But under its pioneer Helenio Herrera at Inter in the 1960s, it was much more intricate than that. Its key idea was the introduction of a "libero" behind the back three to double-mark opposition forwards and start counter-attacks. It introduced the idea of defensive wingers and attacking full-backs, long before James Milner was even born. Its death-knell came in the 1972 European Cup final, when Inter were torn apart by the Ajax of Rinus Michels, playing a fluid, man-marking-proof system that would come to be known as…
Total Football
It's easier to define what Total Football isn't than what it is. Holland beating Spain 5-1 at the World Cup wasn't Total Football. Guardiola's Barcelona wasn't Total Football. Windmills are not Total Football. In its purest, narrowest definition, under the great Dutch sides of the 1970s, it was the idea that any player could appear anywhere at any point. Cruyff could pop up in defence. Neeskens could pop up on the left wing. Johnny Rep could pop up in the crowd and do a ukulele solo. Majestic, if it was done right. The problem was that it required players of superlative skill, maximum intelligence and telepathic understanding. Instead, it became an excuse for bad Sunday League full-backs to go bombing out of position, meeting the angry glares of his team-mates with a shrug and the words "Total Football, innit?"
Route One
Charles Reep was an RAF officer with an eye for tactics and a head for numbers. In the 1950s he crunched some figures and worked out that the majority of goals were scored in moves of three passes or fewer. The conclusion? "Hit Les! Hit Les over the top!" shouted a forlorn Graham Taylor on national television, as England's 1994 World Cup qualification campaign disintegrated in a fusillade of aimless long balls at Les Ferdinand. And if you think English football has finally managed to undo his legacy, think how many times you hear fans shouting "Get rid!" or "Away!" or wildly applauding a retreating full-back who boots the ball into the upper tier rather than taking a touch.
Wing Backs
Like moustaches and disco, you're never quite sure whether wing-backs are just going out of fashion or just coming back in. In many ways, they're the ultimate tactical fad. They dominated the game in the 1990s as players like Roberto Carlos, Andreas Brehme and Steve Guppy made the position their own, but disappeared as 4-5-1 became more prevalent, leaving teams overstaffed in defence and understaffed everywhere else. But occasionally the wing-back makes a resurgence, either as an unorthodox expedient (Ashley Young at Manchester United) or as a marauding attacking outlet (Dani Alves, David Alaba). And like moustaches, and like disco, you get the feeling they'll never quite disappear completely.
Sweepers
Trust English football to give one of the game's most dynamic roles the most prosaic name imaginable. The classic sweeper – think Franz Beckenbauer or late-era Lothar Matthäus – died a death around the turn of the century, as teams decided that if you were going to have a defender pretending to be a midfielder, you might as well just put him in midfield. But even if the position is dead, the idea isn't. Arguably, it's the best way of describing players like Michael Carrick or Eric Dier, who occupy a middle ground between defender and playmaker. In Europe they call him the "libero": a lightning rod of prerogative and possibility, extinguishing danger, launching attacks. Here, we make it sound like a household chore.
Big Man/Little Man Strike Partnerships
The calling card of the 4-4-2 formation: think Toshack and Keegan, Flo and Zola, Wanchope and Sturridge. There was an industrial elegance to the idea: big man holds it up, little man makes the run off him. But as football began to embrace the single, all-purpose striker in the 2000s, poachers and beanpoles alike began to wither. The little guys became tricky wingers or fleet-footed playmakers; the big guys became security guards. In recent years, though, little 'n' large has enjoyed a minor resurgence: think Dzeko and Aguero, Costa and Villa at Atletico, Gestede and Agbonlahor at Aston Villa.
Tiki-Taka
Pep Guardiola claims to hate "tiki-taka", but then Robert Plant ended up hating "Stairway to Heaven", so maybe pioneers just get bored quicker than the rest of us. What is certainly true is that by around 2013, what had originated as a fluid, dynamic attacking movement consisting of quick short passes and endless running had become a byword for conservative, low-risk possession football. That's not the fault of Guardiola or Barcelona, but the handbook ideologues who slavishly copied them. Without geniuses like Xavi and Iniesta, tiki-taka risks turning into passing for passing's sake, something post-Ferguson United have often been guilty of. But at its best, it was a thing of wonder.
The False Nine
Those who claim that Lionel Messi pioneered the false-nine role are only about 80 years out. Arguably the first forward to drop deeper in order to find space and draw defenders out of position was the Austrian genius Matthias Sindelar of the 1930s, but it came back into fashion in the 2000s, most notably in Luciano Spalletti's Roma side. These days it is an accepted weapon against well-organised defences or in the absence of a traditional centre-forward – Mario Gotze occasionally plays the role for Germany these days. It's not for everyone, though: it requires exceptional close control, as well as midfielders intelligent enough to use the space created. Otherwise, you've basically got no strikers.
Gegenpress
The latest chic tactical motif that really just expresses a long-standing idea. Jurgen Klopp's arrival in the Premier League has installed the term in English football's common vernacular, but in truth there is nothing new in the concept that teams are most vulnerable to losing possession when they have just won it. Klopp's Dortmund simply executed it in dazzling fashion: swarming all over the opposition like yellow-and-black wasps, which on reflection are really just wasps. It requires remarkable levels of energy, which is why even the fittest Klopp teams can't gegenpress the whole time, and also leaves a side badly out of shape, which partly explains Dortmund's dramatic collapse last season. A fad? Let's see.
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