THE first time I watched Liam Boyce play for Cliftonville was against Donegal Celtic at Suffolk Road in an Irish Premier League game during his first spell at the club. My first impressions weren't too favourable. What's all the fuss about? If memory serves me correctly, Boyce scored against DC that afternoon. It was the only redeeming feature of his performance. Even though the giddy element among the Red Army were convinced of his stellar quality, I remained sceptical. There were simply too many rough edges in his game for him to be considered 'across the water' material. Sometimes all first impressions serve to do is commit you to dogma and prejudice.
After a few more watches, I realised Liam Boyce was something different and something of substance. Fast-forward a few years to sunny Solitude last Saturday afternoon and the Cliftonville and Ards supporters were treated to a familiar piece of genius from the striker. He picked the ball up near the corner flag and, with no apparent danger to the Ards goal, he embarked on one of his scintillating dribbles. By the time he'd reached Graeme McKibben in the Ards goal, Boyce rolled his foot over the ball and slotted it into the empty net. The cheek of him. Only Boyce could score a goal like it. In fact, there is no other player in Irish League football who would try what Boyce did, never mind pull it off. It was a goal that you would see on a five-a-side court or at the end of a training session. It had devil-may-care written all over it.
Goals like Boyce's against Ards aren't supposed to be scored in competitive games. You never tire of watching a player with his imagination. The 22-year-old striker is an entertainer - and, sadly, a dying breed. Sometimes you wonder what some coaches are looking at. When you consider the dearth of skill, even at the top level in England, you wonder about the wisdom in the dominant coaching practices of the day. You wonder how so many average, functional players make the breakthrough and earn massive salaries with so little natural ability. The role of the striker has become de-skilled over time. The fact that most teams play with just one striker nowadays has effectively turned strikers into dogsbodies. The three principles of the lone striker are as follows: hold the ball up; lay it off to a team-mate, and dash into the box. For the modern striker, his role must feel like Groundhog Day. Hold it up, lay it off, run into the box. Hold it up, lay it off, run into the box... The same drudgery, week in, week out. For the more defensive-minded teams, there is no joy, no self-expression in being a lone striker. And you can forget about dribbles, back heels, flicks and step-overs. They're all banned. There is no room for imagination. When a striker is not being a slave to these predictable coaching habits, he spends his spare time chasing lost causes, and is invariably knackered by the 70th minute mark. Gone are the days when strikers thrived in partnerships. Since his return to Cliftonville in January 2012, Boyce has been outstanding. He's a much more rounded striker for his time spent with Werder Bremen's U21s and his international appearances for Northern Ireland at U21 and senior level.
Last season, he scored 36 goals as the Reds won the league title and Irn Bru League Cup. Contained in those 36 scrapbook moments were all types of goals: sumptuous dribbles, close range goals, headers, ugly toe-poke finishes and goals that were fashioned out of brute strength. Boyce proved he was a man for all seasons. Having studied the Cliftonville striker's game for most of last season, it is astonishing to think that no club from England or Scotland signed him in the summer. Given the astronomical amounts of money being paid out by some of the top clubs, where was the risk factor in spending £75,000 or £100,000 on the best player in the Irish League? Twelve months of strength and conditioning work and some lucky club would have close to the finished article in Liam Boyce. Not one for hyperbole, Reds manager Tommy Breslin believes Boyce could cut it at a lower English Premier League club. His performances in the Champions League games against Celtic last month would appear to support Breslin's faith. Probably Boyce's biggest hurdle in securing a full-time contract with an English or Scottish club is that he is an entertainer trying to make it in an entertainment-free business. It used to be the case that clubs were full of skilful ball-players like Boyce. They were the people who put bums on seats.
Nowadays, players of Boyce's ilk are viewed with deep suspicion. The economic realities of the English Premier League and indeed the Championship have deformed the game. For many clubs in England's top flight their sole ambition is mid-table security. And most clubs will try and achieve that modest goal in the most functional, totalitarian way possible. Artisans such as Boyce have been squeezed out of the picture in favour of the athletic six-footer who can run all day and who can hold it up, lay it off and run into the box. The big athlete might reach double figures - but put a ball in front of him, ask him to dribble and be imaginative and he will panic. Boyce's problem is that top level football has become a joyless pursuit where balance sheets dictate everything. Why should a football club delve into its multi-million pound youth academy and mould the stars of tomorrow when they can buy ready-made versions in the transfer market? Why invest? What's the point in having a youth academy? And what exactly is the scout seeing when he looks at the Cliftonville striker? Too many tricks? Too much imagination? There's nothing more that Liam Boyce can do. He'll keep interpreting football like only he can, and Solitude will be grateful every Saturday afternoon. He's an entertainer with substance. Long live the Boyce.