Leicester’s relegation battle is a harsh maths lesson for all mid-table clubs

A ll life, Valeriy Lobanovskyi once said, is a number. Which might have made sense for the groundbreaking Dynamo Kyiv manager, with his high-school medal for mathematics, but for most people who follow sport is a little disconcerting. We want to believe in heroes and glory, in imagination and genius, in fate and curses. Even if we acknowledge it probably is quite important, the thought of football as a series of vast interlocking spreadsheets feels a little dry.

And in the day-to-day we want ready explanations. We want to know that this game was won or lost because this forward or this keeper was on fire, or because this referee got it wrong, or this left-back was injured, or this winger didn’t track, or this centre-back can’t play in a two, or because the midfield couldn’t shut down the passing lanes.

What we don’t want to believe is that this is all essentially random variation within certain parameters defined by finance – which is a major reason the application of data in football has encountered resistance. Nobody buys a season ticket to watch a pair of balance sheets represented through the medium of 22 players kicking a ball.

All of which makes the idea that Leicester’s battle against relegation is merely regression to the mean unpalatable. And perhaps it isn’t that, or at least not just that. There are plenty of short-term reasons for the 2016 Premier League champions’ decline. But equally the odd season of feast or famine shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.

When Leicester twice missed out on Champions League qualification on the final day of the season, some criticised Brendan Rodgers for being unable to sustain the challenge, but most seemed to accept that fifth was a very good finish given resources and