We’re living through something less than a golden age of international soccer.

Chile have won the past two Copa Américas—or last summer’s Copa and whatever you want to call the joint CONCACAF-CONMEBOL tour of American NFL stadiums—with 240 minutes of goal-free soccer and a pair of penalty shootouts.

Germany are at the peak of their powers, but the national teams that were supposed to crowd them at the mountaintop haven’t ascended. Colombia werely blandly effective in the Copa. Brazil are suffering through a protracted identity crisis. Argentina’s golden generation has never quite cohered, and now they’re threatening to quit. Belgium’s Euro campaign, aside from a colorful drubbing of Hungary, has been sleepy and dull. France seem not totally sure that their best XI includes Paul Pogba and Antoine Griezmann. (Note to Didier Deschamps: it does.) Italy are awesome along the back line and merely competent everywhere else.

And in Spain, Vicente Del Bosque has dragged out a death out over four years. Tiki-taka has been ending now for about as long as its heyday lasted, starting with La Roja’s first European title in 2008 and concluding with the Full Art Project squad that featured Cesc Fábregas as a false nine and won Euro 2012. It’s no coincidence that this run aligns perfectly with Pep Guardiola’s tenure at Barcelona, which yielded three La Liga titles and two Champions Leagues. After Pep left the Nou Camp and Spain thumped Italy 4-0 in the Euro final, tiki-taka, in its purest form, stopped existing.

Everything since has been an underwhelming postscript. Neither Spain nor Barcelona have figured out how to play it without Xavi at his best. Barça gave up two years ago, adopted a vertical approach, and signed Ivan Rakitić, who’s an altogether different kind of midfielder—industrious and aggressive, as opposed to Xavi, who made speed look meditative. Spain still haven’t figured out how to make up for the Catalan’s decline. Del Bosque has tried to employ Xabi Alonso and Cesc and, to a lesser extent, Koke and Thiago as midfield fulcrums, to discouraging effect. The problem isn’t that these players aren’t Xavi, but that Spain have kept searching for a direct replacement, as if they’re one lineup adjustment away from bringing 2010 back.

This search was understandable for a while. After all, unlike Barcelona, Spain can’t completely remake themselves on the fly. For the past decade, their competitive advantage over the rest of the world has been that they produce technically gifted midfielders at an astounding clip, and all that five-foot-eight, tippy-tappy talent necessitates a style of play that’s deliberate and possession-based. They could have tried a counterattacking system, but they didn’t have the pace for it. They could have played riskier passes, but their fullbacks and midfielders, with a few exceptions, were much better at keeping the ball than retrieving it. From 2012 to 2014, Spain played a bastardized version of tiki-taka even as the players suited for it aged out of their primes because it was their best chance to win games, and until they got demolished at the 2014 World Cup, Del Bosque wasn’t sure of the extent to which it was still working.

What’s inexcusable is that Spain’s awful trip to Brazil was a death knell Del Bosque refused to hear. Spain have been stuck in limbo ever since, straining for short-term solutions without examining their broader predicament. Del Bosque has tried like hell to integrate Diego Costa into a slow, intricate attack that confuses him and he’s asked Cesc to do an impression of Xavi even though they’re not particularly similar players. A conveyer belt of Iniesta-likes—Santi Cazorla, David Silva, Juan Mata, Isco, Thiago—have been shuffled in and out of the midfield and front line without much care or apparent instruction as to what they’re trying to accomplish. Atleti’s box-to-box duo, Koke and Saúl, haven’t been given much of a chance, nor has Valencia’s Paco Alcacer, who has typically soft Spanish touch, atypical speed, and is content to run at defenses for 90 minutes.

By holding fast to tiki-taka—and demanding that every player, no matter how incongruous with the philosophy, adhere to it—Del Bosque has created a Spain without purpose, all sideways passes and no teeth. They’re still capable of balletic goal-scoring moves, but it’s not effortless in the way it was five years ago. The squad look like immensely talented impostors. Several of the players seem to play not like themselves, but like an idea of what Del Bosque wants them to be.

Here’s the simpler truth: tiki-taka is just too damn hard to pull off without eleven players who are perfect for it. Spain need a manager who understands the style is dead and the team requires, not a complete overhaul, but a few significant tactical tweaks in order to get the best out of a fresh generation of very good players who are differently skilled than the legends that preceded them. Fortunately, Del Bosque seems to finally grasps this as well, which is why he’s likely to step down soon. (As is his wont, he’s being cryptic and strange about his probable exit in the press.) This is for the best, and these past two years won’t stain his illustrious coaching record. Spain has been due for a revamp for a while now. They squeezed every bit of joy they could from the present, until they were suddenly and unpleasantly living in the past. Their next manager will need to implement some new ideas, because the old plans are demonstrably outdated.