Manchester City Player Numbers

*Premier League Data Only.

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Lots of interesting data in the linked chart:

  • Gabriel Jesus’ shooting%’s The Brazilian’s shooting% is 12% points higher than any other other team-mate; the combined shooting% is 18% points higher than the next guy on the list. Gabriel Jesus may very well be a plus shooter capable of working himself, and his team-mates, into high scoring probability areas inside the 18yd box but it is unlikely that he can sustain such wild shooting %’s during full-time minutes in 17/18.
  • De Bruyne The Belgian had a shitty year in terms of goals scored (7% shooting%, quite a few distance shots and left-footed swingers when trying to avoid close defensive pressure on the ball likely caused that low % number. That said, De Bruyne is a baddie: 0.56 assists p90, 5.88 shot contribution p90 are the base stats but by the eye test it is the fearlessness and daring of his passing in the final third that makes him City’s stand-out player. Might be the most dangerous crosser of the ball in the league, he also leans on that talent a little too much for my liking and chooses to cross when City’s attackers are outnumbered by a significant margin within the 18yd box. Still, he is growing, becoming more versatile (played at 8, 7, 11, 10), and he is gradually making better, and better timed, use of the multitude of skills in his possession.
  • Sergio Agüero “Find good players, keep good players” That is how a team improves and remains a good team. A good team, one with designs on titles and CL runs , should not sell a player like Aguero. 0.75 goals p90, 5.21 shots p90, no red flags in terms of shot locations. 33 goals in all competitions, 8 goals short of the all-time Man City goalscorer record. Man, you shouldn’t want to sell players like this unless he is a horrendous fit in Guardiola’s system or you anticipate the player walking off a cliff performance wise. Or, if one is this way inclined, his sale helps you meet the bounty on Mbappe’s head. Agüero hasn’t been poor in 16/17, quite the opposite in fact. The amount of mid-season bleating about his form/future/attitude was, and I will be diplomatic here, bullshit.

  • % Minutes Played Sort the interactive chart above to %Mins Played and let us conduct a quick poll: How many of the guys that played fewer than 45% of minutes in the PL this year will be with Man City next year? Kompany, Gundogan, Jesus? Just those guys? Probably sounds about right. The list of players to play fewer than 45% of the minutes reads like a list of the damned, bar the aforementioned: Sagna, Navas, Zabaleta, Nolito, Fernando, Kelechi, Delph, and the boy Garcia. A lot of dead, ageing, wood and a couple of re-gens. Bad squad building requires significant surgery. Six or seven out, five or six in with a youth or two thrown in to make up the numbers?

The Best 1:12 Of Your Day

Trying to pick a favourite song is hard. Like, really hard. Moods change, tastes change and we constantly reject and re-embrace certain songs that, for reasons that sometimes remain inexplicable, touch us or speak to us in some private and emotionally charged way. I couldn’t tell you what my favourite song was, but I could tell you how a certain song makes me feel.

“peer pressure” is a beauty. It makes me think of breaking up and getting back together, of the happiness and hard work of actually fixing things. It makes me think of the fragility of that ‘fixed’ thing.

The song makes me think of the film it features in, the eternal sadness, the sand, the snow, the lights going out in the library, the fun, the fights, the love.

The video below may well be the best 1:14 of your day, or it may not. It may well be that this song touches only me and if that it so then it is my joy, my private pleasure.

Power Out

Great song. Apt.

I will post something about Villa at certain games states tomorrow. After that, I think it will be seasons end articles which could, hypothetically, number well over 50.

It’s a lot of work, but it’s quick work. Bad time to be without internet

Turn On The Bright Lights

It’s late here and It has been raining for three days. Not such a rare occurance you may think, but in the land where I reside it’s quite the rarity.

It’s 1:30am, it’s dark. I light a cigarette. I watch the smoke drift out onto the terrace and swirl then twist away into the rain. Inhale. Exhale. Extinguish. I look out over this city, over the apartment blocks and beyond the vast darkness of park Guell and into the gray, pink tinged sky of Barcelona.

The sky is different here, it looks more forgiving. It doesn’t have the grim depressive qualities of a Wednesday night in Manchester where the dark clouds and steady rain seem to crash down against the upturned collar of coat long since drenched and defeated by the elements.

When it rains in Barcelona it makes me miss home more than I sometimes think I can stand. When it’s late at night and it rains as it has, and still is doing, it makes me want pick up my guitar and go back to a time when I would sit up all night just ‘playing’ and creating weird minor key after minor key sequences.

When it rains like this I want to listen to ‘Turn On The Bright Lights’. Maybe it was the time in my life (winter 2002) that made this album such a special piece of work. Maybe the rain and bitter gloomy cold of the city where I was born perfectly fitted the tone of the music.

This album is cold, loveless, even. It doesn’t envoke any happy memories in the listener, It can be hard and, at times, it sounds like a fractured, broken hearted love letter to nobody in particular. And it is an absolutely brilliant piece of art. In a post-Britpop, post-Millenium world where the best band in the world was deemed, laughably, to be The Strokes, this album proved that The Strokes were not even the best band in their own city of New York.

Turn On The Bright lights starts with ‘Untitled’ and it sounded alien and beautifully miserable. The album quickly folds into the brilliance of ‘Obstacle 1’ and ‘NYC’. Then comes my favourite song on the album, ‘PDA’. I can still recall the memory of hearing this song in a club with the friend who turned me onto the album. Drunk, smoking and smug with the knowledge that this was a song that the cool kids would dismiss out of hand whilst waiting for the predictable simplicity of something inferior.

Listening back to the album in it’s entirety songs on the second half like ‘Say Hello To The Angels’ and the unsettling lyrics of ‘Stella’ creep slowly over me, invoking very specific memories. I used to believe the best way to listen to this album, as with any album, is by turning the volume up and sitting in pitch black darkness. But everything changes.

I look around my life in Barcelona now and realise how much things have changed. Darkness and volume have given way to headphones and lighting. The seven guitars, the amps, the bass and the scrapbooks have sadly become one guitar, a desk and a couple of cats noisily chasing each other around.

I guess this is the ceaseless march of life and progress but on days and weekends like this, when it’s dark and the rain never stops it makes me want to listen to Interpol–the kings of gloom, to see my friends, to walk home drunk at 3 am in the rain. Cold and cursing with my head down and that collar upturned.

Time to visit home. I hope it rains when I get there.

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