Ademola Lookman’s penalty was not wasteful showboating – the Panenka is a brave and logical ploy

The Panenka is a thing of brilliance or foolishness, of courage or impudence, depending on who you ask. Pele said it was the work of either a genius or a madman. At the time its pioneer, Antonin Panenka, was described as “a poet” but he considered it less artistic and more scientific, a logic in the beauty, deducing that a high floating ball was almost impossible to save unless the goalkeeper stood still.

“I suspect that Maier doesn’t like the sound of my name too much,” Panenka later said of his victim at Euro 1976, the Germany goalkeeper Sepp Maier. “But I never wished to make him look ridiculous. On the contrary, I chose the penalty because I saw and realised it was the easiest and simplest recipe for scoring a goal.”

Andrea Pirlo replicated the technique against Joe Hart when Italy knocked England out of Euro 2012. Like Panenka, Pirlo saw it not as an act of mischief but of efficiency. "It was impromptu, the only way I could see of pushing my scoring chances close to 100 per cent,” Pirlo said. “There was no showboating. That's not my style."

Yet it was hard not to notice the Panenka gathering some negative press this week in the wake of Ademola Lookman’s now infamous miss. Over on talkSport it was filed firmly under gluttonous exhibitionism – does Lookman even know there’s a pandemic on? “Selfish, ridiculous, incomprehensible,” said Andy Townsend, with a face like he’d just quaffed old milk. Perry Groves said Panenkas should be banned. Andy Cole thought that was a bit strong and Lookman should just be fined. Danny Murphy described him as “arrogant” and said his penalty embodied “the curse of the modern-day player” who just wants headlines. “It’s like ‘I want to be the guy on social media, I want to be on the TV channels’,” said Murphy, in a soundbite ripe for social media and TV channels.

It seems the Panenka’s beauty is in the eye of the beholder. In contrast to something brainless, Lookman’s penalty could easily be framed as something brave and considered. As he stood preparing himself and his cheeks puffed out, perhaps he undertook a risk assessment; perhaps he calculated that in the final action of a match, Lukasz Fabianksi would not have the courage to simply stand still. Maybe the consequences of failure played through his mind, ultimately affecting his composure, and he still concluded it was the right choice for the moment.

To Panenka himself, the method was worth perfecting. His iconic moment was years in the works, the result of hours after training pitting himself against the Bohemians Prague goalkeeper. “We would play for a bar of chocolate or a glass of beer,” Panenka said. “Since he was a very good goalkeeper it became an expensive proposition for me. So, sometimes before going to sleep I tried to think of ways of getting the better of him, to recoup my losses. I got the idea that if I delayed the kick and just lightly chipped it, a goalkeeper who dived to the corner of the goal could not jump back up into the air, and this became the basis of my philosophy.

“I started slowly to test it and apply it in practice. As a side effect I started to gain weight, because I was winning the bets. I started to use it in friendlies, in minor leagues, and eventually I perfected it so I used it in the main league as well. The culmination was when I used it at the European Championship.”

Lookman’s attempt was no whim, either. He had scored this way for England Under-20s a few years ago in a penalty shootout against Brazil, albeit without much pressure. Comparing the two kicks you can see how well he pulls off the deception for England, while for Fulham he pulls out of the run-up and decelerates on connection, like a golfer’s faith in his putter draining away mid-swing. The Panenka didn’t come off this time but it was not an impulsive choice, rather it was one style among several Lookman had adopted in training which elevated him to the team’s back-up taker behind Aleksandar Mitrovic.  

Perhaps Lookman shouldn’t have been given the responsibility of a high-pressure kick, but who else was there? Mitrovic had a tight hamstring at the time and besides, his record of seven misses from 22 career penalties is underwhelming (incidentally, one of those was a Panenka scooped over the bar for Serbia against Montenegro). The captain, Tom Cairney, has little track record from the spot, missing one of his three when he assumed duties a few seasons ago.

So a 23-year-old summer signing stepped up, employing a technique he trusts under pressure, and failed. He was not the only one to miss a penalty this weekend. Kevin De Bruyne screwed one wide. Jamie Vardy smashed one down the middle and hit the goalkeeper’s legs. Jorginho and Bruno Fernandes have both missed recently with the jump and roll technique. Is Antonin Panenka’s “simple recipe” so different? From the reaction this week you’d think Lookman tried a rabona while flicking Vs and eating a Mr Whippy. The embarrassment was punishment enough; rarely do footballers require a pundit’s public scolding, least of all a young player with a social media account.

The penalty has in the past been a place for far greater inventiveness and risk than Lookman. The chaos of the game is stripped away to reveal an isolated duel, like a single ball of cricket, something with its own chemistry between the protagonists. It can be a moment to innovate, like the misdirection of Ezequiel Calvente’s standing-foot toe-poke, or the synergy of Lionel Messi’s touch for Luis Suarez arriving, or the pure shithousery of Lee Trundle’s loose shoelace. And what we admire in those penalties is the unconventional thought, and the preparedness, as much as the outcome itself.

You suspect Lookman won’t take a penalty for a while, and when he does he probably won’t attempt another Panenka. But perhaps one day he will try it again, and this time the ball will gently ripple the net, and somewhere a pundit primed for outrage will see some method in the madness.