Why the five-substitute era has not been good for football
By Michael Cox. Nov. 2, 2025
Amid reports that some of Europe’s major clubs have held discussions about the possibility of introducing a sixth substitute in league matches, it’s worth reflecting on the situation football has accidentally found itself in, with ‘only’ five permitted.
This was initially an emergency measure introduced in 2020, when football was forced into a demanding schedule to compensate for the three months lost to the pandemic. Entirely predictably, the temporary change became permanent.
Naturally, managers have taken advantage of the extra changes. Since the start of 2022-23, when the five-substitute rule was made permanent in the Premier League, managers have used (at least) a fourth substitute 72 per cent of the time. They evidently appreciate having more ability to rotate, and more scope for making tactical alterations.
But has it actually been good for football overall?
The concept of five substitutes was about easing physical demands on players, therefore guarding against injury and physical burnout. But it’s highly questionable whether this has had any serious impact whatsoever, and it’s arguably made things worse; this time last season, in particular, there seemed to be more injuries than ever before. Tottenham currently have 10 players out injured, for example.
Granted, it’s not an entirely fair test, because in what could be termed the ‘five-substitute era’, top-level players have become involved in more competitive games, because of the expansion of the Champions League and the introduction of the Club World Cup.
But football has completely overlooked the impact of introducing extra substitutes: it increases the tempo of the game, and the physical demands upon those who aren’t substituted. It’s a fairly straightforward equation: if no substitutes were allowed, the game would need to be played at a tempo that players could sustain for 90 minutes. At the other end of the scale, if 11 substitutes were allowed, every player could run themselves into the ground, knowing they could be replaced.
Football has ended up at a halfway house of five, which means that, going into the final stages, it’s not uncommon to have 10 outfielders with fresh legs up against 10 outfielders who are fatigued, but need to keep on sprinting at the intensity of the substitutes. Whereas once players with fresh legs were outliers, almost like a manager playing a ‘joker’, they’re now a more fundamental part of the game. It’s worth clarifying that the tempo in football has always increased decade on decade, and the five-substitute rule is not the only factor. But things do appear to have exploded dramatically in the last half-decade.
Of course, the increased intensity affects things tactically, too. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and many people are content for football to be played at an increasingly high tempo.
The danger, though, is that the game becomes so frenetic that talented technical players are denied an extra half-second on the ball, an extra few yards of space. The challenge, as always in football, is for those players to showcase their skill within the context of a high tempo. But this is perhaps an artificial high tempo, dictated by an unreasonable number of substitutes. This season’s Premier League has been notable for its underwhelming level of football, with teams seemingly looking elsewhere — to set-pieces — for creativity, at a time when playmakers are finding it difficult to create.
First, they can afford to introduce top-class replacements, and five of them — rather than simply three — can completely overwhelm weaker clubs. Yes, in strict terms, the issue is not simply outright quality, but quality in comparison to the player being replaced. Still, it’s difficult to make a case that, say, Arsenal — who use their considerable budget to build a squad to compete in multiple competitions, and therefore have strength in depth — are not better off from the five-subs rule than, say, Burnley. It’s hardly a coincidence that the prospect of a further increase to six has been raised by the big clubs in particular.
Then there’s the long-term impact of depth and stockpiling players. Restrictions have been introduced on squad sizes in an attempt to tackle this problem. Ultimately, most footballers want to play and if a manager is using 16 rather than 14 every game, big clubs have more scope to keep more players involved. The same applies to matchday squads, which are now 20 rather than 18 in the Premier League, and 23 in some other European leagues.
Pep Guardiola wants an unlimited number of players on the bench, so more can feel involved. “I would love the Premier League to say, ‘You can allow on the bench the players you want’,” he said. “I would love it because everybody can play. More alternatives.” But it would be better for football, overall, if players on the fringes moved onto clubs where they will start matches.
The five-substitute era has probably made it harder for promoted teams to survive — things are set to be different this time, but the last six promoted clubs have all been relegated straight away. One of them, Ipswich Town — who found themselves in the Premier League after consecutive promotions — would have been placed 17th on a ‘first half league table’ last season, but 20th on a ‘second half league table’. Were Kieran McKenna’s tactics worked out by opposition managers during matches? Were Ipswich serial bottlers? Or were they simply unable to cope because the five-substitute era rewards established clubs with depth?
There’s also an argument — and maybe this is just one for traditionalists — that football is also supposed to be, on some level, a test of individual stamina and adaptability. Obviously, some substitutes are needed to replace injured and fatigued players, and sides should be able to make changes to tilt the balance of their side too.
But five substitutes is probably too many, and has likely had the opposite impact to what was intended. As a solution to the problem of fatigue, two extra changes has been the footballing equivalent of throwing a glass of water onto a chip pan fire.
www.theguardian.com
