Walcott can't cross. But he should play

Sixteen years ago, Ryan Giggs was a speedy, blurred-frame winger. He took on full-backs like an Intercity 225 passing the slow train to Sale. Now, with loud knees and hard-worn hamstrings, he is that slow train to Sale. His pace has gone. Any full-back - or cameraman - could catch him.

But Giggs, now 36 - 36! - doesn’t need speed. Gone are the foot-races; gone are the cul-de-sacs between full-back and advertising board. Instead, he plays in midfield, where the pitch is biggest. He can, for the first time in his career, pass the ball left, right, or forward. And he does. He finds angles from straight-lines. He's intelligent.

Theo Walcott is 16 years younger than Giggs. But, even in 2025, could Walcott convert to midfield? With his touch? Giving him multiple choice - left, right, or forward - would baffle him. Walcott needs one box to tick, marked - clearly - kick-it-and-run.

Nine years ago, England’s right winger thought football was boring. This quotation is from an interview in The Observer: “I wasn't even interested in football. The first time I played I was nine. I volunteered to go in goal, thinking it would be exciting to save penalties.”

So Walcott didn’t play football until he was nine. It shows. His crosses, four times out of five, are woeful. One effort, against Sunderland, was a prime example of what’s known as the Arsenal Cross (other exponents: Clichy, G; Eboue, E).

There’d been six passes, maybe seven, each slower than the last. The opposition had ten players in position, behind the ball. The game was paused. No-one moved, but instead watched Walcott, out wide, with the ball. Did he go forward? Did he go back? Did he pass, then dart forward for the return?

No. He looked up, lazily, and took the easy option: a slow, side-foot cross, with the precision of a tee-shot into the ocean.

Arsenal haven’t had a centre-forward who made those crosses look good since Alan Smith. You know, Theo: the Sky commentator. So why hit them? If Arsene Wenger can make Kolo Toure a league-winning centre half, and Emmanuel Adebayor a £16million striker, can’t he teach Walcott wing-play?

In 66 Premier League games, Walcott has nine assists. One every seven games? Even Nani (11 assists in 47 games) has one every four.

And it’s not just crossing. If Walcott receives the ball with his back to goal, it’s bad news. If he takes more than two touches, it’s bad news. His short-game, with scalped midfielders prowling, is abject. Andrei Arshavin, who could dribble a ball through an 8am commuter train, must despair.

Yet Walcott, if fit, and in 4-5-1, should start every game. Why? Because he isn’t Arshavin, Samir Nasri, Tomas Rosicky, or Fran Merida, Those four, no doubt, have kicked balls since they could walk. While Walcott went skateboarding, they perfected stepovers. In five-a-side, those four would beat five Walcotts. Easily. But, though skilful, they’re similar.

Walcott, on the other hand, has something no Arsenal forwards have: Olympic speed. Sheer, frame-blurring speed. It’s not clever - Walcott owes his living to his fast-twitch fibres, rather than his slow-twitch skills - but it’s effective. Would Merida, Rosicky, Nasri, or even Arshavin, have scored three against Croatia? No. Walcott is Arsenal’s Intercity 225; the player who leaves defenders in his vapour trail.

Arsenal are accused, rightly, of over-elaboration. Walcott, the Berkshire Bullet, will never be elaborate. He wants fewer touches, not more. He wants to knock-and-run. But that, in a league of ponderous full-backs, can work.

Arsenal’s Plan A is a concerto, with Cesc Fabregas conducting a five-foot-nothing European orchestra. Plan B - kick it to the quick lad - isn’t artistic. Art alone, though, doesn’t win matches.