Football doesn’t evolve in straight lines — it evolves in cycles. Every few years, a revolutionary tactical idea appears, seems like the future of the game, gets adopted by everyone, then is countered by an opposite idea that renders it outdated, and eventually returns in a new form. There is no clearer example of these cycles than the centre-forward position.
From Hidegkuti in 1953, to Messi in 2009, to Firmino in the Klopp era, and now back to Haaland as a “classical” striker — each generation has had its own philosophy on how a No. 9 should play. This is an analysis of that journey.
The origin — Hidegkuti and Wembley, 1953
Before the idea was ever called “false 9,” it was put on the pitch by one man on November 25, 1953, at Wembley Stadium.
Nándor Hidegkuti, Hungary’s striker, did not play that day the way England expected. Instead of staying on the defensive line as any No. 9 would, Hidegkuti dropped deep into midfield — dragging England’s centre-half Harry Johnston with him into a dilemma: leave him and open a gap, or follow him and break the back line’s structure?
Both choices were a disaster. The result: Hungary 6 – England 3, England’s first ever home defeat to a non-British team. Hidegkuti scored a hat-trick that night. But the more important legacy wasn’t the goals — it was the idea: the centre-forward role isn’t a position, it’s a job description.
That team became known as “the Magical Magyars,” and their tactical fingerprint shaped every school that followed — from Cruyff’s Ajax, to 1960s Barcelona, to what was still to come.
The modern rebirth — El Clásico, May 2, 2009
The idea slept for decades, then woke up in a single night.
May 2, 2009. Santiago Bernabéu. Real Madrid vs Barcelona. Pep Guardiola — in his first season as the Catalan club’s manager — faced a tactical puzzle. He had noticed that Real Madrid’s defence didn’t press well in the space between the midfield and the back line. There was a gap. How to exploit it?
His decision: move Lionel Messi from the right wing into the centre of attack. Samuel Eto’o would shift to the right, Thierry Henry stay on the left. Messi wouldn’t stay on Madrid’s defensive line — he would drop to receive between the lines, dragging the centre-backs forward, creating space behind them for Eto’o and Henry to attack.
The result: Real Madrid 2 – Barcelona 6. Messi scored twice. The idea that had been dormant since Hidegkuti returned in its most powerful form. The modern False 9 era was born.
The peak of the idea — Spain 2012
Three years later, Spain manager Vicente del Bosque took the idea to its extreme.
At Euro 2012, Spain at times played a system known as “4-6-0” — with no traditional striker at all. The central role was given to Cesc Fàbregas, naturally a central midfielder, who functioned as a pure False 9.
The result: Spain won their second consecutive European Championship, beating Italy 4-0 in the final. A team with no traditional No. 9 winning the biggest continental tournament with a crushing scoreline. That was the high point of False 9 dominance.
The evolution — Firmino under Klopp
When Jürgen Klopp arrived at Liverpool in October 2015, he found a young Brazilian player named Roberto Firmino who had originally been deployed as a creative midfielder. Klopp saw something different in him: a different kind of false nine.
Firmino was not a version of Messi — he didn’t have the dribbling brilliance to break defences alone. But he was the perfect press trigger. He would drop to receive, link the play, and open the space for Mohamed Salah and Sadio Mané to run inside from the wings. More important still, Firmino was Liverpool’s first line of defence — pressuring opposition centre-backs, forcing rushed passes that his teammates would feast on.
This was a further evolution: the False 9 was no longer only a forward who creates space — it became a tactical engine for collective pressing. Liverpool’s version of this philosophy won the Champions League in 2019 and the Premier League in 2020.
The reverse — the return of the “true No. 9” with Haaland
And now the cycle starts to move the other way.
In the summer of 2022, Erling Haaland joined Manchester City under Guardiola — the same manager who had reinvented Messi as a false 9 in 2009. But Guardiola in 2022 was not looking for a False 9. He was looking for its opposite: a real striker, a giant, with pure finishing instincts.
Haaland stays high, pins the centre-backs, doesn’t drop to receive between the lines. His touches per match are far fewer than Firmino’s — but his conversion rate is much higher. He scored 36 Premier League goals in his first season (2022/23) — the all-time record in a single Premier League campaign. It was as though football had gone 30 years back, to the era of Alan Shearer and Gabriel Batistuta.
But Haaland isn’t simply a return to the past. He’s a hybrid: the goal-scoring instincts of the classical No. 9 + the speed and athleticism of a 21st-century player + tactical awareness in his positioning. A return, but in a new uniform.
Why does football move in cycles?
The important question: why do old tactical ideas return after they look outdated?
The answer lies in the nature of the game itself. Any tactical idea that succeeds will eventually be countered by opposing teams. Every defence in Europe, after 2012, learned how to press the False 9 and close the space between the lines. An idea that had been revolutionary became predictable.
At that moment, a true No. 9 gains new value — because he does what defences don’t expect. In an era of teams that press in the final third with five players high, having a striker who doesn’t need a lot of space, only one chance inside the box, becomes a strategic advantage.
That’s exactly what Guardiola saw in 2022. And now, in 2026, more and more big clubs are again hunting for a “real No. 9” rather than a false one.
What comes next?
The cycle won’t stop at Haaland. History tells us that every dominant philosophy in football breeds its own counter. When every club in Europe is hunting for a version of Haaland, a new idea will emerge — perhaps the return of the False 9, perhaps a system with no clear striker at all, perhaps something we haven’t imagined yet.
What’s certain is that the No. 9 position isn’t a fixed job, it’s an open question every ten years or so. The answer changes with managers, players, and the intelligence of opposing defences. And that, exactly, is the beauty of football: there is no final idea, only successive cycles of question and answer.
In Hidegkuti’s era, the question was: “How do we create space?” In Messi’s era: “How do we exploit the genius of football’s most gifted player?” In Firmino’s era: “How do we turn the striker into a press trigger?” And in Haaland’s era: “How do we make sure what we create ends up in the net?”
The next question… hasn’t been asked yet.