Premier League 100: Here, there and everywhere, N’Golo Kante stands alone in the modern game

Sometimes in sport it’s those moments of rare incomprehension which often bring the greatest delight.

The sight of Simone Biles in action, tumbling through the air, a spinning wheel of contradiction, defying the law of physics as she dazzles with the grace of a ballerina and explosive dynamism of TNT.

Or a Roger Federer backhand. That sweeping, arced strike, from left to right, top to bottom to top again, cutting through the air with enough precision and poise to slice a blade of grass in half.

And why not throw Phil Taylor in there too? The rounded belly: the base behind the brilliance. The surly right arm: a coiled spring with which to guide and direct. The steely eyes: the source of the pinpoint accuracy. A true artist of his trade.

Then there’s N’Golo Kante. Yes! Our very own N’Golo Kante. Up there among the Biles, Federers and Taylors of this world. Who’d have thought it? All 5ft 5in of him, with his piston-like legs, diminutive frame and unassuming menace. Here, there and everywhere. You can’t miss him. Or, more appropriately, he won’t miss you. And herein lies the Frenchman’s own defining, mystifying genius.

Picture the scene. There he is, off in the distance, across the Stamford Bridge turf, a whirring motor of mass shuffling from side to side, sniffing out possession.

There you are, the Ashley Westwoods and Aron Gunnarssons of this world, positioned just inside the final third with enough time and space to spot the runners, pick your man and play the pass. So far so good.

But things are never that easy. Not with Kante on the scene. In the blink of an eye, he’s upon you, snapping at your feet, picking your pockets, robbing you of your most-treasured family heirlooms, leaving you with nothing but a written apology – as Kante would – for the inconvenience.

For 90 minutes he toils away, back and forth, up and down the pitch, disrupting the rhythm of the game, providing Chelsea with the opportunities to surge forward on the break as and when. This is what Kante does. This is what he has more or less done for the past four years, ever since he was first plucked from obscurity in France and brought to the King Power Stadium.

Since then, he’s thrilled and perplexed in equal measures – not out of elegance, or raw sporting prowess, or verve and flair. That much is obvious. For he lacks the forceful presence of those midfield generals who have wielded their physicality as a weapon down the years. And nor does he command the vision of his peers. Spraying glorious, parabolic balls left, right and centre across the park just isn’t his thing. Creativity on the ball comes unnaturally to him, too.

No. It’s something far less aesthetically pleasing but arguably far more important than that.

It’s the ability to see all, know all, smother all. He is omnipresent. He is a phantom menace, fading in and out of the shadows. He is the foundation upon which others build their success. He has 15 lungs. He has a pack full of batteries hidden in his shorts. He can both cross a ball from the flank and head home his own delivery.

open image in gallery

Hyperbole aside, were it not for him, Leicester’s historic title-winning season would probably never have happened. You could make a similar case for Chelsea’s title success under Antonio Conte. And if you were feeling particularly brave, you could even dim the lights, crank up Powerpoint and argue in pain-staking detail how it was Kante who, among a wealth of French talent, was the real force behind the nation’s World Cup glory. All this in the space of four years. There are few others who can make such a claim.

And, as seen this season, we know there’s more to the midfielder’s game than the smash-and-grab approach which has borne such rich fruits in recent years. Under Maurizio Sarri, Kante has proven that he can operate higher up the pitch, working as that pivot upon which Chelsea’s attack can swing back and forth. It remains a work in progress, of course. The side’s success under the Italian’s clockwork designs has been limited – but Kante has nonetheless reminded us he commands the ability to both destroy and create. And it’s this quality – which was first put to good use in a two-pivot midfield at Leicester – which sets him apart from Claude Makelele, a player with whom he is frequently, and lazily, compared.

Then, of course, there’s Kante the Kind. The humble Kante, the one who drives a Mini Cooper to work, who once missed his Eurostar train to Paris, headed to a local mosque for evening prayer and ended up accepting an invite from a group of Chelsea fans to head back to their place for food. That the evening was spent playing Fifa and watching himself on Match of the Day makes the tale even better.

open image in gallery

You can imagine the scene now: Kante, with that boyish, endearing smile of his creeping into the corners of his mouth, a bowl of rice and curry on his lap, perched at one of the end of the sofa so as not to take up too much space, watching his past self at work. A scything tackle here, a sly pickpocket there, always running, never pausing for breath. “Magnifique!” he might think, as he cuts down yet another player mid-stride to regain possession – though he’s far too modest to say it.

There are, then, few players quite like him. From the manner in which he single-handedly sustained back-to-back title runs, to the way he is continuing to redefine the central midfield role – and let’s not forget the fact he apologises to rival fans for beating their teams – Kante stands alone in the modern game. In a list dominated by swaggering egotists, raging bulls and discerning artists, the Frenchman bucks the trend. He is an outlier, an exception to the rule. But sometimes it’s the little things – or people – that make all the difference.

And N’Golo Kante is undoubtedly one of them.