Neither Here Nor There

In the States, the media ranks games in terms of expected audience size and national interest.  All USA matches get massive coverage, followed by those involving Brazil, England, Germany and Italy.  Some of these fixtures live up to their press.  Some don’t.  Some that slip under the American media radar are the hard fought, end-to-end tests of skill, character and endurance that should not be missed.  Some… are not.

Unfortunately for fans and viewers, neither Paraguay nor Japan played to win.  Rather, they played not to lose.  Instead of 90 minutes of action, we got 120 minutes with few chances, tight marking, a couple of superb saves, few real chances and lots of tension.  Japan seemed to me the bigger threat in the 1st half.  Traffic tended to be 1-way the other way in the 2nd half with Paraguay keeping possession and bringing wave after striped wave to Japan’s goal, where it inevitably petered out.

Action?  It looked like Tanaka flashed his header past the goal in the 63rd minute, but it wasn’t so.  The replay made it clear the ball had come off a Paraguayan defender and should’ve been a corner.  Benitez had his best shot blocked; Valdez fought past the Japanese defense, but Kawashima came boldly off his line and defused his attack.  Japan missed a chance at the end of 2nd half stoppage time.  The match ended 0 – 0 and went into extra time.  Extra time was more of the same, and led to a penalty shoot-out.

In the end, tears were shed on both sides.  Yuichi Kamano cried because he slammed his penalty shot against the bar.  As the only player on either side to crap out, his botched shot bought Japan a ticket home.  The other bawler, oddly enough, was the Paraguayan coach Gerardo Martino.  Sending Paraguay to the Quarterfinals for the 1st time in WC history, he expressed his relief, pleasure and pride with salt-wet eyes and sobbing.

That’s what I’m talking about.  Sure, Portugal can cream North Korea 7 – 0.  Not that I put unlimited faith in the FIFA/Coca-Cola ranking table, but when team #3 plays team #105… well, duh.  Being on a numeric par, the Spain/Portugal fixture promised a tighter match, and delivered on that promise — though not by all that much.

Portugal’s strategy of negative tactics, histrionics and Ronaldo simply didn’t pay off against Spain’s invention, teamwork and 4-man attack force (Villa, Torres, Ineista, Xavi).  Spain looked calm, collected, confident and always the more likely to score.  Alonso’s uncanny ability to read the game and release the forward players into dangerous areas was play-making at its best.  Ramos’ penchant for making full-field runs up the right to threaten just outside (or even inside) Portugal’s 18-yard box essentially gave Spain an additional forward.

The only damper on the day was Torres’ grim look when he was subbed out without scoring yet again.  Strikers like to score, and so they should.  It’s what they’re paid for after all.  It’s why they get the big (mega-big) bucks.  It’s hard for strikers to hold their heads up high, hard for them not to feel they’ve let absolutely everyone in the world down when they can’t find the back of the net.  Repeatedly.  Match  after match.

I think they need to step back from the gaping goal for a sec and get a little perspective.  Strikers (and some of you wingers and attacking midfielders, as well) — listen up.

If your team is going home from WC for lack of goals and you haven’t managed to beat a keeper even once (Rooney, Heskey, Altidore, Ribery, Hamsik…) then, yes.  Go ahead.  Hang your head.  Tsk, tsk.

On the other hand, if you are a striker with such a high profile you are one of the ad/media faces of the tournament (Messi, Ronaldo, Kaka…), remember that the hype isn’t just for the fans.  (And no, Ronaldo, it’s not just for you “because it’s true” – put some ice on that swollen head of yours.)  You think that’s a number on the back of your shirt?  It’s nothing but a big bull’s-eye.  Sit down, put your feet up, and watch a few minutes of your team’s matches on replay.  Before the pass even gets to you, the opposing defenders and midfielders have you boxed in.  Once you take it down, six or so players converge on you.  It’s a compliment really.  They figure all they have to do is close you down, and they’ve got the game won.  Assuage your egos with the knowlege that as your teams are blessed with several attacking options, you can serve your side by being a handy distraction.  Kaka — while you steal focus, Robinho can whip one into the back of the net for Brazil.  Messi — Higuan and Tevez can rack them up for Argentina, while the opposition is sending you sprawling.  Just ’cause you’re not scoring doesn’t mean you’re not doing your part.

If you’re not selling the WC in international ads, but your country’s hopes are pinned on you (Santa Cruz, Adiyiah, Van Persie…), try to relax.  Your tourney’s not over.  You could net a goal yet.  Dwelling on the goals you didn’t score and worrying about whether you’ll break your goal drought is the best-est way there is to screw up your game and extend your dry spell.  Play for the moment, not for recognition in the end-of-match statistics.

And finally, El Niňo… you just had knee surgery in April.  I had simple arthoscopy in March of 2009 and couldn’t do a bloody set of Tai Chi Ch’uan full out for at least 3 months.  Perhaps I’d have snapped back a mite sooner had I been a young whippersnapper prior to the operation and my day job had been playing top-level competitive Tai Chi Ch’uan.  Perhaps my recovery time would have been abbreviated had I been in primo physical condition before and had the best physical therapists to get me back to snuff after my mini-medical time-out.  Still and yet and nevertheless, returning to full match fitness for these WC games was a crazy expectation.  Drop it.  You’re doing great, playing well, threatening the keeper, providing chances for your team to score and Spain is still in the WC.  For all you know, your shooting boots could be waiting for you in the locker room for the game with Paraguay.  (Fingers crossed.)

The competitors from South America have been doing brilliantly.  Comes a point, though, where the field narrows.  Finally, inevitably, one of the nations had to fall.

Watching Chile progress has been terrific, but surely no brows were raised at this result.  On the day, sure.  Chile might get a winner.  On a World Cup day… Brazil owns this tournament (in fact, that’s one of the reasons I’m not rooting for them — I believe in sharing the wealth).  Chile was destined to bow out at this stage.  Would they had done it with thrills and chills.  They did it with some grace and stoicism.  Adios, amigos.  Oh, and great national anthem, btw.  Why did they always cut it off before the end?  Is there a FIFA time-limit on how long the music can play?  Bogus.

Slovakia hit the field boldly and played without fear, giving the Nederlanders a few things to think about… in the first minutes, at least.

Ultimately, and not surprisingly, Slovakia was out-matched.  Holland is one of 2 nations to reach the Quarterfinals not only undefeated, but with 4 straight wins (Argentina being the other).  Their sterling record is due, at least in part, to Van Marwijk’s astute management.  Unlike the majority of his peers, the Dutch coach had his best squad identified well before the tournament began.  With Arjen Robben’s return to the starting line-up after a hamstring injury, Van Marwijk was able to field a squad wearing the numbers 1 – 11 on their backs; his ideal formation with his first-choice players in their preferred positions.

Robben marked his start with a cracking goal just 18 minutes in.  While many players have yet to come to terms with the quirks of the Jabulani ball, Wesley Sneijder had no trouble providing a spot-on, 40-yard cross-field pass to put Robben in the clear.  The winger proceeded to cut inside 2 Slovakian defenders, then powered the ball through a narrow gap between a 3rd defender, keeper Jan Mucha and Mucha’s near-post.

Robben’s dazzling agility and energy (lightning acceleration, snake-like movement, clever footwork, explosive strikes) may have made it harder to notice the rock-solid midfield contribution of de Jong and van Bommel, who dispossessed Slovakia every time they got the ball and nipped attacks in the proverbial bud before they even got started.  Kuyt’s unselfish runs, effortless ball control and whacking shots-on-goal were highly instrumental in keeping Slovakia on the back foot.  Orange fans who worried about the integrity of their goal now that veteran #1 Edwin van der Saar has retired from international play were surely assuaged by Stekelenburg’s exceptional goal-keeping.

Holland put the game to bed in the 84th minute.  Beating Mucha to the ball, Kuyt cut it back to Sneijder who finished with aplomb.  It looked as if Slovakia would take nothing from the game but the tattered pride of having got so far and seen their last match out bravely, when Stekelenburg brought down Robert Vittek in the box.  Taking the very last touch of the game from the penalty spot, the hero of Slovakia’s game against Italy at once converted and got himself into the record books as his nation’s top international goal scorer.

“Dark horse” isn’t the right term for a team that was strong coming into the competition and has consistently excelled.  While all eyes have been trained on the favorites — Germany and Argentina, Spain and Brazil — a bright orange thoroughbred has been keeping pace, and may well outstrip them all.

These matches will be remembered not for their smoldering rivalry (Germany/ England) or fiery action (Argentina/ Mexico) on the playing field, but for their incendiary effect on the already-hot video technology controversy raging off the pitch.

Down a goal in the 39th minute, Frank Lampard’s blistering shot from just outside the 18-yard box came off the crossbar and bounced well within the goal before returning to the bar and deflecting onto the goal line, where it was finally collected by the German keeper.  Even so, England went into the break still a goal down, as neither the referee nor the official on the touchline saw the finish the cameras caught quite plainly.

The score was 0 – 0 in the 2nd match of the day, when Carlos Tevez opened the scoring by heading a strike from Messi into Mexico’s net.  Though the replay clearly showed Tevez standing miles offside when Messi directed the ball goal-ward, it was now 1 – 0 to Argentina on the scoreboard.

Some might argue (and many have) that as the matches weren’t won by a single goal (final scores were Germany 4 – 1 England / Argentina 3 – 1 Mexico), the erroneous calls are moot.  Clearly the Three Lions and El Tricolor didn’t have it in them to beat the German Team and Albicelestes, respectively.  If Lampard’s goal had counted, if Argentina hadn’t been awarded the first goal of the match, England and Mexico still would have lost – so get over it.

The problem with that argument is that it fails to take the psychology of the game into account.  In a sport where a fair percentage of the matches end in ties and 1 – 0 is a ubiquitous and quite respectable result, taking the lead is simultaneously a tremendous advantage to the team that scores and a tremendous onus for the trailing team to bear.

All goals are not created equal.  In any football game and at every level, the first goal has a massive influence on the dynamic of the match and its final result.  When that goal is scored, and how, and by whom has a profound effect on when and how the next goal is scored, and indeed, if there’s another goal in the game at all.

Imagine for a moment you are a phenomenally talented footballer who plays for your country.  Now imagine what you have to do, mentally and emotionally, in order to step out in front of 80,000+ live fans and a video and e-audience that spans the globe.  Imagine carrying the hopes, dreams and expectations of your entire nation on your shoulders, and remember that your own lifelong hopes and dreams hang in the balance.  Add in your team’s history and its previous interactions with the opposition.  Throw a huge helping of media attention into the mix – the no-holds-barred articles, headlines, pics and clips that have been lifting you and your team onto a divinity-height pedestal or ripping you both a new one.

Got it?  Now play your heart out for 30 minutes while your blood-brother teammates do the same.  Keep your side in the game against your bitter, brilliant rivals by giving it everything you’ve got.  Keep the bookies’ favorites at bay by playing some of the best football you’ve ever played in your life.

And now… imagine your opponents are suddenly, inexplicably awarded a phantom goal.  Imagine you are denied a goal you have legitimately earned.

It happens all the time.  Decisions like these are not moot, not in the least.  Erroneous calls dramatically and unquestionably affect a game’s outcome.

Every minute Mexico stayed level and Argentina failed to score tipped the scales incrementally in Mexico’s favor.  Had England been allowed their equalizing goal, the boost to their confidence could well have freed up their game.  If they’d gone into half-time level, they’d have gone in exultant — we are that good, we can stop them — while Germany would have gone in with their confidence shaken, only to get reamed by their manager for having lost their lead.

Had these controversial calls not stood, would it have altered the results of the games?  Perhaps not.  Would it have altered our chances of seeing different results? Absolutely.

Fans, players, commentators — the footy community at large is well aware that poor decisions have a profound impact on the game.  FIFA’s rigid reticence to employ goal-line technology and end these mishaps has everyone up-in-arms.  “All” other sports use cutting-edge tech to get the officiating right, so the pundits claim (though, in truth, decisions in America’s beloved baseball are made by 100% human referees).   It’s time, they say, footy joined the tech-friendly club.

The application of more advanced technologies to the officiating side of the game is inevitable.  The advent of the instant replay has fueled our innate hunger for accuracy and  justice, for seeing effort fairly rewarded and glory appropriately bestowed.  Some sort of technical assistance is mere moments away.  Me… well, I’m not in any hurry for high-tech referee’s assistants to be introduced to the beautiful game.

In truly old tales, a hero was not only handsome and brave, daring and clever.  He was the the guy with the luck.  Luck was a quality — like straight teeth or curly hair.  Luck burst from a hero’s brow in a dazzling splay of light.  You could see it in his eyes, feel it in his handshake, hear it in his voice.

One of the things that first attracted me to footy was the way the gods got involved in the game and Lady Luck played her part.  Fortune is a palpable, visible, undeniable presence on the field.  I’ve seen her bless one set of goalposts and curse the other.  I’ve seen her set wings to the boots of some players, while turning the boots of their rivals to lead.  I’ve seen her cruelly snub the same lads whom last year she favored.

Remember France, World Cup 1998?  You can call it “home advantage,” but for me, it was France herself endowed her players with daring, speed and creativity they’d never shown before.  Barthez in goal for that penalty shoot-out — mon dieu!  what brilliance!  He was truly inspired!

Luck is also manifest in the referees’ calls.  What an official sees or misses, which players or teams get the benefit of his doubt, how a tackle looks from his angle… often as not, it’s a matter of luck.

Over the course of a season, good and bad calls even out.  Over the course of multiple World Cups, they do the same.  Last WC, the luck was on Italy.  In the final seconds of their Round-of-16 match against Australia, Totti’s dive over Neill’s prone body was judged to be a foul in the box.  The ref awarded the Azzurri a penalty.  Totti converted from the spot.  Australia went home, Italy went on to the Quarter-Finals and, eventually, to lift the Cup.

Had he consulted a video feed before making the call, the ref might have awarded Totti a yellow instead of a penalty, and Australia would have progressed.  The call and result were unjust, entirely – but if the result was skewed by a dearth of technical assistance, Lady Luck balanced the scales 4 years later by sending Italy home in ignominious defeat after 3 pathetic appearances in the Group Stage.

I readily admit that poor officiating can determine the outcome of a match.  I consider it part of the game.  England’s loss to Germany, Mexico’s loss to Argentina was no more than they deserved — not because the calls weren’t fair, but because champions must be able to win despite bad calls and referees’ blunders.  They deserved to lose, because neither the Three Lions nor El Tri-Color had the confidence or composure to seduce good Fortune back to their sides after she’d turned against them.

By next World Cup, there will be a chip in the ball – same as in the hockey pucks — I’ll lay money on it.  By next World Cup we’ll know for sure whether or not it’s a goal.

I’m ok with the chip, but I doubt that will be end of it.  Once they start using tech to determine the goals, they’ll need to know if it was a handball in the box, if it was a dive or a foul, if the whole of the ball crossed the touchline.  Soon the officials will be stopping the game dead in its tracks to consult the TV screen, and footy will be boring as shite.

As the game stands now, it takes true character and a bit of luck to come back from 3-down at half-time and triumph in a penalty shoot-out (Liverpool v AC Milan, Champions League, 2005).  The way it’s going, soon character and luck will have bugger-all to do with it.

The modern game must evolve to suit the modern world, after all, and that means bringing modern tech to the pitch.  I’m resigned to it, but not happy about it.  I’m a traditionalist, at heart.  If I’d been alive when the FA came into existence and transformed the wild free-for-all called “football” into a regulated affair with time periods and bounded pitches and a set number of players… well, I’d have railed against the dogmatic rule-makers who had robbed the sport of its magic and lifted my pint to the anarchic melee that had been and, for me, would always be the true game.