At one point under MoN, we were the dead ball specialists of the prem. Now?
Nobody make s a run to the near post. Ever. The opposition know thay don;t have to bother with defending the possibility, as we will loft it to the big man who is standing dead central and patiently waiting for it to drop on his noggin. The big man may as well sway back and forth building up neck strength.
Nobody stand on the goalkeeper's toes and twists his scrotum whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
Nobody make an early run or a late run or any sort of run.
When all is said and done, nobody does anything, and it is a waste of everybody's time.
