Death of the Panenka: chipping penalties no longer big or clever, just stupid… | OneFootball

Dango Ouattara didn’t kill the Panenka. He only drove another nail into its coffin on Monday night.

In case you missed it, Ouattara was the only one of nine takers who failed to score in the shootout that ultimately sent West Ham through to the FA Cup quarter-finals, leaving Brentford to rue a missed opportunity to make a fine season even more memorable.

The Bees forward, the second of Keith Andrews’ men to step up, either decided that a Panenka chip represented his best chance of success against Alphonse Areola, or he opted to make it all about himself with little regard for the very real repercussions for his team.

It’s the latter, isn’t it? Of course it’s the latter.

Ouattara isn’t the first – he’s probably not the 1001st – to let his ego get the better of him when the ball is on the spot. And the consequences of his failure are certainly not as grave as those who’ve made a b*llocks of a Panenka before.

We can actually pinpoint the Panenka penalty’s time of death to around 10pm on Sunday January 18, 2026 with Brahim Diaz the man to strike the final blow amid chaotic scenes in the 111th minute of the AFCON final.

Those now attempting a similar penalty are deftly kicking a corpse (after a stuttering run-up), including Ouattara at West Ham.

The motivation that leads to such an attempt – successful or not – is always the same: ‘Look at me. Aren’t I f***ing clever?’

And that’s not always a bad thing. If we didn’t have players taking risks and trying new things, football would be even more boring than it is now.

Necessity probably was the mother of invention when Antonin Panenka first had the balls to dink a penalty on the big stage – the 1976 European Championship final – down the middle into the space vacated by a goalkeeper grounded by his guesswork.

And penalties didn’t change much in the 30, 40 years that followed. Generally, the taker chose left or right, while the keeper took, very often, a poorly educated guess. The shot down the middle was a safer bet because the goalkeeper always, almost without exception, picked a side. It was a simpler time.

Which is why there was logic in the occasional Panenka; it requires the goalkeeper to take themselves out of the equation, which they almost always did.

But that changed when penalty-takers began playing on goalkeepers’ over-eagerness. Perhaps it was a stutter to gain an insight into which way the glovemen were going; the ballsy ones sparked a battle of wits by watching and waiting, knowing that most keepers could not supress the instinct to shift.

But they eventually caught on. Keepers may be mad, but they are not stupid. Especially when they are armed with more data than they could possibly need.

If you’re taking a penalty at the highest level, there’s a good chance that the goalkeeper you’re facing knows more about you and your instincts than your own family.

If you want to delay, goalkeepers will happily now engage in the stand-off. The striker always remains the favourite, but keepers can now control themselves and hold, content to stress test your Plan B.

And if they know you like to d*ck around on penalties – as Areola surely knew of Ouattara – they definitely won’t take the bait.

If the West Ham keeper retained his information – be it stuffed down his sock or taped to a bottle or towel – he would have known that his adversary does not like to take a straightforward penalty. The three he has taken in the last year have all featured a twist on the traditional spot-kick.

The first, for Bournemouth at the same stage of last season’s FA Cup in a shoot-out against Wolves, saw Ouattara debut his no-step run-up, which flummoxed Sam Johnstone. Goal.

Then, in September, he took two for Burkino Faso against Djibouti. The first at 0-0: he waited for the keeper to move before rolling his kick in the opposite direction – too far onto the post. No matter; later on at 5-0 up, Ouattara was given another chance with even less on the line to revert to the technique that worked against Wolves, going again to the keeper’s left. Six nil.

When Ouattara stepped forward to take Brentford’s second kick, Areola could reasonably assume he was going to faff about. So just stood perfectly still.

Which Ouattara ought to have foreseen. He surely knew that Areola knew. But the temptation to make it about him was evidently too great to resist.

Andrews held no grudge. At least not publicly. We suspect the sentiment may have been different in private.

There’s brave but there’s also stupid. Especially if Ouattara doesn’t learn from it.

Most managers, especially in these days of coaching control-freakery, will specify only one thing before shootouts: keep it simple. Robbie Savage told us that his rule was even clearer: No f***ing Panenkas.

He’s right. Panenkas have had their day. The shift in how goalkeepers approach penalties – holding more, dragging the leg – make that so and, anyway, the risk is no longer worth the personal reward. Even if Ouattara had scored, so what?

There was beauty in their rarity, but there is nothing novel about a Panenka now. Too mainstream to still be cool? Maybe. For sure, though, Ouattara’s failure will be remembered for far longer than a successful conversion.

In his defence of Outtara, Andrews neatly illustrated why any ridicule is justified: “It goes in, everyone is raving about him.”

But it doesn’t so Brentford go out; the team pay the price for the player’s ego trip. Which is doubly hard to justify now that goalkeepers are too wise to fall for the dink down the middle.