The Glance That Stuck on the Left: Van de Ven, Driessen and a Quiet Dutch Dilemma

It was nearly half past three in the morning. I was on my rooftop in Rangpur, the Netherlands match playing on the small laptop screen. On the left flank, Micky van de Ven received the ball. He did not look forward; he looked sideways, almost uncertainly, as though someone were telling him where to stand, who would overlap, which gap the ball would travel into. That central defender from Tottenham, the one Europe talks about for his speed, stood in the left-back role looking like a guest who had been invited into the house but never taught its language. That glance became the argument in the Dutch media the next day. On De Telegraaf's Kick-Off programme, Valentijn Driessen cut straight to it: Van de Ven plays at left-back "looking around as if to say: what am I supposed to do?" In the same show, fellow journalist Mike Verweij took the opposite tone, saying the boy can "put the turbo on" and repair a mistake. Two pundits described the same act — one called it a fault, the other a gift. At the centre of the debate is that glance, and behind it a quiet question. In fifty years of watching the game from the touchline, this picture is not new to me. While embedded with Rangpur Riders in the Bangladesh Premier League, I saw exactly this dilemma surface when a central defender was pushed to left-back — the body arrives but the foot does not land in the right place. So the question is not whether Van de Ven is good or bad. The question is what we actually want from a modern left-back, and whether this selection answers that demand. The Netherlands drew 2-2 with Greece — a result that does not sit well by Dutch standards. In this international window that frustration has settled on Van de Ven's shoulders and on the coach's selection. Driessen claimed Van de Ven has been disappointing "for three matches in a row." Three matches — that is the most important number here, because this small sample is the foundation of the entire debate. Dutch left-sided depth is a luxury problem. Ian Maatsen plays for Aston Villa — a natural left-back. Jorrel Hato plays regularly at left-back for Ajax, though pundits judge him more comfortable centrally. And Van de Ven — a centre-back by trade, converted to left-back. So the Dutch have at least three left-sided solutions; the debate is about fit, not availability. One thing must be made clear. Driessen did not only attack Van de Ven; he questioned the coach's philosophy. In his words, players treat the coach's instructions as "more important than playing with freedom," and the first half was like "just doing whatever." The complaint is not about one man but the whole system — over-coaching, or a failure to transmit instructions. And his remedy is not a new tactic but simplicity: clear instructions before a match, and beyond that, none of the tactical tricks. In fairness to the record, there is some confusion about the coach's identity in this discussion — Koeman in one place, another name elsewhere. The current Netherlands head coach is Ronald Koeman, and sources suggest it was under Koeman that the Van de Ven left-back experiment began. That very confusion reminds us not all information in a debate carries equal weight — some is eyewitness, some is only mood. Let us examine the matter coolly. What is a left-back's job in modern football? The answer is not simple, because the job has changed over two decades. The old left-back defended, held the touchline, and crossed when he could. Today, in possession-based teams, the left-back has become part of the build-up: he must carry the ball forward, step inside to add a midfielder, or overlap outside to drag the opponent's right side apart. He is a creator, not merely a security guard. This is where Driessen's sharpest line lands: "He is quick, fine. But if he is only there to correct mistakes, then you are defeating your own purpose." That sentence is really a complete theory of the role. If Van de Ven stands on the left only because his extraordinary recovery pace can plug gaps centrally, then he is reactive — repairing what breaks, not building anything new. And a left-back who only repairs what breaks is always a step behind in a possession side. Driessen's second criterion is even more ruthless: "It is also about someone being comfortable on the ball." Here he places ball comfort above raw speed. Maatsen and Hato are both natural on the ball; Van de Ven's profile is pace-first, not build-up-first. Speed can hide a mistake; speed cannot carry the ball forward. That difference sits at the tactical heart of the game. I want to make one thing clear, because there is a dangerous gap here. Driessen's entire argument is qualitative — there is no number in it. No xG, no pressing map, no pass-completion rate, no progressive-carry figure. Even what I saw was a single match's eye test. And that is exactly why I hesitate — this Dutch debate is the mirror image of a place I know well. In my career I have seen that when data analysts walk into the dressing room and impose their conclusions, those conclusions detach from the true rhythm of the match. Here the reverse is happening: a pundit delivers a verdict without data, on the basis of three matches of the eye. The danger is the same in both cases — whether it is numbers or eyes, when they are cut off from the living rhythm of the game, the conclusion drifts the wrong way. In 2026, embedded with Bashundhara Kings, I watched this up close. When the league stopped, players trained alone, and a weight accumulated in their minds — the weight of instruction, the weight of uncertainty. I spoke to them on Zoom calls without naming them. Driessen's complaint — that players put instructions above freedom — is nothing new to me. It is the same weight, in a different language. So the question is not only where Van de Ven stands; it is whether this weight of instruction is suppressing a player's instinct. There is another layer nobody says out loud. The Dutch defence usually plays a high line. The high line's greatest risk is the space behind. To cover that space you need an exceptionally fast defender, and Van de Ven is exactly that insurance. Playing him at left-back may be a conscious defence-first compromise: losing a little in attack, cutting enormous risk behind. Driessen calls it "defeating your own purpose"; someone else might call it "the best balance with what you have." Both are reasonable readings — but neither should be a decision made on more than three matches. With Hato there is a further subtlety. He plays left-back regularly for Ajax, yet pundits judge him more effective centrally. That makes clear the Dutch problem is not scarcity but a glut of hybrid defenders. When a player can play several positions, the door opens to calling him "fully suited to none." That convenience complicates the coach's selection and simplifies the pundit's argument. Now to where I disagree with the majority. Everyone says the problem is Van de Ven. I think the problem is not Van de Ven — it is why we agree to turn one pundit's three-match mood into a season's selection decision. Notice that Driessen and Verweij are describing the same event. One says "he only corrects mistakes," the other says "he puts the turbo on and corrects mistakes." Their disagreement is not about what Van de Ven does; it is only about whether it is good or bad. One fact, two interpretations. But when the interpretation becomes the headline, an uncertain tactical experiment suddenly becomes a "crisis." And in that crisis, pressure falls on the coach, and if the coach changes, the pundit's influence grows into the next selection too. This is not football; it is a soft circle of power. Second — the "exiled talent" drama around Maatsen is true but incomplete. Someone wrote that Koeman did not fancy him, and probably the current coach does not either. The hidden fact is this: the same player being left out across two different coaching regimes is not coincidence. There may be a consistent, unspoken reason — training performance, an awkward fit in the structure, or personal chemistry. Without knowing that, it is easy to shout that Maatsen is a victim of injustice; but honesty to the record demands we ask what the reason is. And here the absence of data is the real villain. In the pundit's words I find no xG, no pressing map. Yet if we had Van de Ven's progressive carries, the average distance of his passes from the left flank, his per-90 comparison with Maatsen, the argument would move from "it feels like" toward "it is proven." I will not let data into the dressing room, but I also accept this — a selection decision built only on a television mood, without data, is the greater injustice. The story will end or turn in the next window. If the Dutch win, the talk fades; if they stumble again, the three-match line becomes the season's indictment. So the real question for me is not Van de Ven's speed, nor Maatsen's crossing. It is whether a coach defends his own tactical philosophy, or picks a team to match a television studio's mood. The answer will come on the pitch, on the goal line, in that silent glance at half past three.