John Terry is not dead. He hasn't even retired, properly. He won't play for England again though, barring an about-turn with a tightness one doesn't associate with his defending.
It seems odd, therefore, to write a footballing obituary of the man, but this is probably a decent time to try and honestly assess a career that divides opinion like little else in football.
The first thing to wonder is how possible it is to divorce what you may think about Terry's character from his ability on the pitch. Is it at all possible to objectively assess Terry the footballer, when opinions of his personality usually fall into either the 'captain, leader, legend' or 'arse, douche, berk' categories? It inevitably does temper one's judgement. You naturally and almost unavoidably gravitate towards praise of a man you like or criticism of one you don't.
Still, let's have a go. There is plenty to be said about Terry the man, but all that has been said many times over - for these purposes, I will try and ignore all the unpleasant stories (both ones that we all know and ones based on rumours that our lawyers would get very nervous about) and simply try to assess the player.
How about starting with something most people can agree on; John Terry is/was one of the best English central defenders of this generation. Cases can be made for Rio Ferdinand, Sol Campbell and Ledley King, but it would take someone particularly obtuse to argue that Terry does not at least belong in the conversation.
Of those candidates, Terry is arguably the best typically 'English' defender among them. He's big, tough, throws himself in front of everything and often seems to deny strikers through a force of will. He makes last-ditch tackles, on-the-line blocks and compensates for his famous lack of pace with a surprising power of recovery. It's an eye-catching form of defending, and one that fits with the image of the brave warrior, doing anything for the cause.
However, as the old argument goes, if Terry was a better defender then he wouldn't have to make those last-ditch clearances. If he was in the correct position, or didn't have the turning circle of an aircraft carrier, then the off-the-line dives would not be required.
But does it matter? Whether it's with a desperate block or an intelligent interception, a goal has been prevented, so what difference does it make how this is achieved? It is the defensive equivalent of 'they all count' as a goal flies in off a striker's bottom. Obviously, the problems come when the desperate blocks stop coming, but Terry has been at the heart of some of the best defences in recent English football.
The idea, commonly articulated by his detractors, that Terry needed a Ricardo Carvalho figure next to him is perhaps unfair. Sure, the Chelsea defence was at its strongest when these two were in their 2004-2007 pomp (in the 114 league games over these three seasons, they conceded an astonishingly miserly 61 goals), but one only has to look at the England defence in recent games without Terry to see his influence. As much as anything, he organises a back line, and without him the likes of Joleon Lescott or Phil Jagielka look much less certain.
Another aspect of Terry's game that is perhaps underrated is, as French journalist Phillipe Auclair pointed out this week, his distribution. Possibly because it doesn't quite fit with the bombastic image, possibly because he's spent a lot of his international career playing with the more elegant Ferdinand, Terry's passing is overlooked and underplayed. Indeed, last season he had a 91.3% pass completion rate, the third-best in the Premier League - higher even than the £15million-worth of tiki-taka that is Joe Allen. They're not all sideways passes to Gary Cahill either - have a look at the lovely clipped ball over the top for Ashley Cole at about four minutes of
this for just one example.
Perhaps the most compelling argument in favour of Terry comes from the managers that have worked with him. Some of the finest managers of the past 20 years - Capello, Ancelotti, Mourinho - have not only built defences around him, but teams. Coach after coach has placed Terry at the heart of their sides, and given him the captain's armband that appears so pointless to those outside the game but so vital to players. He inspires a loyalty in managers that is incredibly rare - so much so that one ostensibly quit an extremely well-paid job in his defence. Either Terry is a gifted hypnotist, or plenty of fairly decent managers rate him pretty highly.
"John Terry was the perfect captain for me, that's the only thing I can say," said Mourinho, a full five years after he left Stamford Bridge. Strong words.
His game clearly has flaws though. The main problem with Terry has always been his pace, or lack thereof. It's not even so much that nippy opposition strikers occasionally get the better of him, but that his slowness dictates how a team is able to play, the most obvious example being the high defensive line favoured by Andre Villas-Boas that simply wasn't possible with Terry in the side.
Another is his mentality. While his headstrongness can be an asset (the lack of impact his various off-pitch controversies have had on his play is extraordinary, bordering on the sociopathic), it can impair both the way he plays, and what is best for the team. His desire to be a central part of everything is probably laudable in his own mind, but some claim it has even taken down managers.
Observe, if you will, Claude Makelele's account of Jose Mourinho's dismissal from Chelsea:
'I met Rui [Faria], our physical trainer, and asked him if everything was OK. 'No, no Claude. The rumours are true. The coach has been fired.' I asked him why and he explained a lot of players had complained about him, notably John Terry. I then learnt Mourinho had told the club's captain that he was going to be left on the bench for a few matches to give him enough time to recover from a back operation he'd undergone in the middle of the previous season [in December 2006].
'John let it be known that he was OK to play on but Mourinho insisted. He told him his [Terry's] level of performance was suffering because of his back problems and repeated clearly that he [Terry] would be replaced until told otherwise. He even pointed out that the central defence would, from now on, be Ricardo Carvalho and Alex. War had been declared.'
In many ways, the final 20 minutes of England's recent game against Moldova summed up Terry. He had injured his ankle, but through a misguided sense of duty, arrogance, pig-headedness or straight-up stupidity, Terry refused to go off until the very last, because all substitutions had been made. Of course, England were cruising to a win against a dreadful team, so they probably would've been fine with Roy Hodgson and Ray Clemence at the back for the closing stages. The consequence was that Terry potentially exacerbated the injury, causing him to miss a much more difficult match against Ukraine a few days later. What he believed to be the best for the team in the short-term was detrimental in the long/medium-term.
Or was it simply grandstanding? Maintaining the image of the brave-hearted warrior, laying his own body down in the name of Harry, England and St George? One suspects that Terry was a tiny bit disappointed that it was a twisted ankle, an injury with no dramatic external symptoms, rather than a Butcher-esque bleeding head. That'll get you on the front of The Sun for football reasons. Either way, it's not compatible with the brave team player.
A similar thing occurred after the League Cup final in 2006. Terry was sparked out by an errant Abou Diaby boot, unconscious before he hit the floor. A sensible person might have stayed in hospital and kept pretty still for a long time, but Terry was back at the stadium in time for the celebrations. The fine line between bravery and stupidity is straddled once more.
The other moment that perhaps defines the popular image of Terry is that
headlong block attempt against Slovenia in the 2010 World Cup. Putting his head where others wouldn't put their feet, etc and so on, that piece of defending was actually a mixture of practicality and instinct - everything was happening so quickly that he couldn't readjust his body position to block with his feet, so he dived in head-first. It makes sense, when you put it like that. He missed the ball, by the way - Glen Johnson, just behind him, blocked it in the end.
Terry's career is winding down. He may protest otherwise, but how could it not after giving up the England team? Whether you like to admit it or not, we'll miss him - for good reasons or bad - when he's gone.
So what footballing legacy will he leave? How will we remember Terry the footballer? If it is possible to think of him only as a player, rather than a potentially flawed human, a handy summary might be this; a terrific player, one of the best, but not nearly as important as he thinks he is.
