Neither Here Nor There

What a weird game.   They tried to market it as “Brother against Brother,” because of the 1/2-sibling relationship between Kevin Prince (Ghana) and Jerome (Germany) Boateng.

But that wasn’t it at all.  It was more like Ghana against themselves.

FIFA has instituted simultaneous starts to these last group matches, with the intention of preventing teams from playing for specific results and encouraging them to play to win.  It’s a good idea, and I think it helps, but with high-tech inventions like the radio and cell phone, info about the other match in the group is certainly being passed around the stadium nevertheless, and leaking onto the pitch.

I imagine that’s why the end of this match was so listless, and simultaneously so terribly tense.  With the Australia/Serbia score so far in their favor but time still on the clock, the Black Stars couldn’t decide if they should aim for the top of the table or just see out the game.  Their opponents were happy with the scoreline (0-1 to Germany) and afraid to do anything.  At the moment, both teams were going through to the last 16.  Nobody wanted to press their luck, nobody wanted to jinx it.  The players were still moving around the pitch, but the game had come to a standstill.

The match ended… and didn’t.  It wasn’t till the Australia/Serbia result was known that winter passed, the ice melted and Özil’s goal could be appreciated for what it was — a lovey bit of skill.

Yes, this post is just slightly out of chronological order.  I put off writing about the game so I could bask, simply bask in the golden glow of relief, pride and satisfaction.  Yes, oh yes, indeed.  I root for the Three Lions.

What about my home team, the USA?  Well, I’m warming to them, now that they’re adding a little international flair to their game (I swear Landon’s weeks playing for Everton did the boy a world of good), and I certainly don’t wish them ill.  On the other hand, I call Team USA “them,” not “us.”  That sorta says it all.

Spain?  I adore Spain.  I want Spain to lift the Cup.   Very handsome men playing very handsome football.  If Spain plays USA, I’ll be rooting for Spain.  If Spain plays England, I’ll be torn in two.

Truth be told, I’m kinda fickle.  Depending on who’s playing and how well, my affections shift like the tides.  Slovakia borders the Tatra Mountains, land of my paternal peeps.  I was born Risa Skerpan.  Pre-Ellis Island, it was more like Škerpan, Škrpan or Škyzpan.  I see Škrtel on the back of a defender’s jersey, I figure I’m looking a home-boy, my blood.  Damn straight I’m rooting for Slovakia.

My best friend Janet has Argentinian family.  That plus Argentina’s sterling team are reason enough for me to cheer them on.  I have a dear friend in the Netherlands, I love its politics, their game is bloody brilliant, plus Dirk Kuyt is one of my all-time fave footballers.  I’m totally rooting for them.  And for New Zealand (hi, Allyson & Fiona!).  And for Switzerland (hi, everybody (too many to name)).  I want a Korea and/or Japan to move on to keep that part of the world represented (though it would take a Mongolian team to win my whole-hearted, genetically-predetermined support).  I love the Sockeroos, Mexico, Uruguay, Paraguay, I’m rooting for Chile, Denmark & Slovenia.  I’m wishing Germany well, because my friend Declan drew Germany in the pool, and I’m hoping the Cup results will line his pockets.  Cameroon, Nigeria, Cote d’Ivoire, South Africa, Algeria, you know I had my fingers crossed for you (except when you were playing my top faves (see above)).  Ghana — I’m with you all the way!  Greece, Serbia, I was thrilled you got in; wish you could’ve stayed longer.  Honduras, it’s not over yet!

So.  The four teams at the bottom of my love list — Brazil (you’ve got plenty of cups, and you were rude to Cote d’Ivoire), Italy &  Portugal (they’re out to play the ref, instead of playing the game) and France (shouldn’t have been here in the first place).  The team I love best?  If Ireland were in the competition, they’d be my #1, naturally.  Without the Boys in Green to knock them out of top spot, it’s the Three Lions I hold dearest.  It’s the English game seduced me into watching football in the first place.  It’s the EPL I follow.  It’s England’s footy fortunes that make my day or break my heart.

Those first two games… arrgh.  I posted on Facebook, telling Capello to call me.  I was sure I could save their bacon.  Luckily, Capello picked up at least a few of my tips telepathically.   Gerrard wasn’t back in the center where he belongs, but he still had the Captain’s armband, as well he should.  Dawson wasn’t in the centerback hole left by Ledley King and Jamie Carragher, but Upson inspired confidence — in me, at least.  Best of all, Capello put Defoe up front with Rooney and didn’t put Heskey on the pitch until the end.  I’d have kept him off entirely and put on Crouch instead, but there you go.  No harm done.

I expect England’s squeak-by triumph and subsequent advancement to the knockout stage was due to these tactical changes, their vastly improved pace and their boldness on the pitch.  They were pressing forward constantly, and did you see that salmon-like dive from John Terry in his attempt to head that low-struck ball away from the net?  Courageous.

England’s success presents me a dilemma.  I watched their 1st two, awful games from the comfort of the pub, while downing a  couple of pints.  I watched this much better last match from the comfort of my home and with a cuppa.  So… do I dare risk the pub for the next one?  Or am I relegated to the couch and tea, if I want England to win?

End to end action, brilliant play, but no finishing 1st half.  End to end action, brilliant play, an eff-ing remarkable 2nd half.

First the Sockeroos slotted home 2 goals in 3 minutes.  Serbia looked done for, then they pulled a goal back.  The last 5+ minutes of the game were a genuine thrill ride.  They spread the play, opened up the game and upped the pace.  Desperate hope and fierce desire spurred both teams to supreme efforts and superb performances.  It was chance after chance, breath-taking near misses, furious pace, brilliant saves both ends of the pitch…

Edge of the seat stuff, this.  Ah, but the upstart Serbs who defeated the Germans went down to the Aussies and to the bottom of the table.  The never-say-die Aussies won the match 2-1, but their 4-point grand total wasn’t enough to earn them in a spot in the Sweet 16.

There was no joy in Nelspruit.  Australia and Serbia had struck true — but struck out.

If this game didn’t win Americans over to footy, nothing ever will.

see Nigeria v South Korea.

Just kidding.

Samaras gave a credible performance.  The wall of Grecian white made it damned hard for the Argentines to score.

Then again, some of the Argentine starting line-up didn’t start.  No Tevez.  No Mascherano.  No Heinze.  No Higuain.   For Maradona and his squad, the win was a matter of pride, not necessity.  Messi got to captain his side for the first time; undoubtedly a proud moment for him.  We’re still in suspense about when the little maestro will break into the goal-scoring category, but while we wait, we get to watch him dance over the field with incredible grace and skill, so nobody’s complaining.

Argentina finally got the breakthrough, thanks to a corner, a scramble in front of the box and an unstoppable ball by deMichelis (ooh, I must say!).   Messi’s blistering shot was denied by the width of the woodwork in the 86th minute.  He was denied again a couple minutes later, this time by the keeper, but Palermo’s follow-up strike rocketed into the far corner for goal #2.

The Argentine euphoria is palpable, even on a dinky, non-HD screen thousands of miles away and many hours after the fact.  These guys just may be able to take their luck, talent and game all the way — and they know it.  Great football, but…

Ok, is it just me?  Or was this match feel more like an Argentine practice than a high-stakes WC game?