Neither Here Nor There

Chile has been looking surprisingly spry on the field.  Against Spain, though, they looked just that bit slower and clumsier than they had in their previous matches.  Were they playing less well?  Or did they seem to be off their stride because they couldn’t muster the extra reserves required to up their tempo, dexterity and inventiveness to the level of the Spanish game?

Spain created 2 terrific chances in the first 5 minutes, and their opening goal was an absolute wonder.  A perfectly controlled explosion up the left side by Torres left the last Chilean defender stranded and forced the alert Claudio Bravo to dash off his line to deal with the danger.  Unfortunately, his tackle diverted the ball into the path of Torres’ strike partner, the always-impressive David Villa, who proceeded to curl it into Bravo’s empty net from a good 40 yards out.

About a quarter of an hour later, Chile allowed Spain a second goal when Xabi Alonso threaded the ball through the midfield, then crossed it to the goal-scorer with one of his trademark pinpoint passes.  Now well scared of the diminutive Villa, two Chilean defenders raced to close him down, at which point Villa cut the ball back to the open Iniesta who had nothing to do but slot the ball into the bottom left corner of the net.

About that same time, Estrada was red-carded off the pitch for a foul on Torres.  A man and 2 goals down, the outlook seemed bleak for the Chileanos, but coach Bielsa revamped his attack and made an inspired double-substitution that landed the ball in the back of Casillas’ goal almost immediately after the restart.

The Chileanos showed some skill and plenty of character and tenacity.  I’m still rooting for Spain, but looking forward to seeing what else Chile’s got for us before this Cup is done and dusted.

When Paraguay’s Valdez made that gorgeous run up the left about 15 minutes in, I thought that alone was worth the price of admission.

But Paraguay played it safe.  Can we blame them — can we fault any team for pacing themselves?  Why risk injury and exhaustion on a match you don’t have to win?  Not smart if your plan is to make it to the final, or even through the Round of 16.

Playing it safe meant Paraguay didn’t have to do anything but stop New Zealand.  Which they did.  The All Whites are out, going home, but they’re going home undefeated.  Not eff-ing bad for a team that’s making only its 2nd appearance ever in the tournament.

New Zealand were a surprise, a delight, an astonishing story.  The quality of their play, their unexpected prowess and the fact that they always gave it their all made the competition better and more thrilling for everyone.  Thanks, Kiwis.  See you next time.

What I love about the Dutch?  They always play to win, whether they need the result or not.

Van Persie 36 minutes in… I mean. Eto’o equalized at 65 minutes.  Spectacular shot, a devastating finish.  There haven’t been enough moments like this in the competition, not for me.

I truly wanted to see lots of Africa in the next round, but nabbing a slot at the expense of Holland was never, never to be.  The Dutch are magnificent.

The appearance of Arjen Robben, on as a sub, was a joyous moment for the orange-clad fans, as it signaled the squad’s return to full strength.  To mark the occasion, Wesley Sneijder combed with Robben, whose blistering shot off the post was smoothly turned in by Huntelaar.  Wonderful football.

The Nederlanders clinched it 2-1.  (Should’ve been 3-1, but the penalty on Huntelaar in the last minute of regulation time wasn’t given.)  Damn these guys are good.

In their final Group Stage match, tiny Slovakia, competing as an independent nation for the 1st time ever, was pitted against Italy, the current World Cup champions and 2nd most successful nation in World Cup history.  While FIFA rankings may not mean much on the day, the 29-country gap between 34th place Slovakia and 5th place Italy could hardly be deemed insignificant.  What’s more, though Italy hadn’t exactly shown championship quality in their previous matches, they were comfortably ensconced in 2nd place in their group.  Slovakia entered the stadium at the bottom of that table.

The stage was set for high drama, and the fixture didn’t disappoint — though for the first 80 minutes, the bulk of the drama was of the histrionic variety, primarily (though not exclusively) provided by the Italians.

I’m not for a moment suggesting that the Italians have a lock on play-acting.  All footballers make the most of any and every bump, thump, trip or tap that could win them a free kick in a dangerous area or a shot on goal from the penalty spot.  But not all teams are as committed to that aspect of the game as are the Azzurri.  While other teams will turn up the volume on theatricality when they sense the ref is buying it, most don’t make a habit of playing the death-throes card and only occasionally stoop to diving.  A few teams — and just about all of my favorite players — show real sportsmanship, making every effort to stay on their feet no matter what comes at them, to get back on their feet quickly, to keep their tackles honest and their cleats down.  Check out Dirk Kuyt, if you don’t believe me.

For as long as I’ve been watching footy, the basic Italian game plan has been to stick virtuoso keeper Gianluigi Buffon in goal, erect an 8+ man wall in front of him, and defend-defend-defend, forcing more and more opposing players to press forward in search of the three points.  When critical mass is reached and the opposition is  over-committed on the Italian side of the pitch, the Azzurri launch the ball down the field to their lone, lonely striker and hope he can score on the break.  To optimize their chances, the Italians liberally sprinkle their game with a whole ‘nother set of tactics; theatrics designed to artificially disrupt the flow of the match and manipulate officials into making unwarranted decisions in their favor.

Four years ago, this two-pronged strategy netted Italy the World Cup — and they ceded only 2 goals in the process.  Since then, FIFA officials, opposing teams and footy fans have had ample opportunity to view the thespian side of the Italian game in slow motion and from all angles.  Such scrutiny has earned the Azurri a reputation for underhanded play intended to win them free kicks and penalties and get their opponents red-carded off the field.

This time, the strategy didn’t work for them.  Buffon was injured in practice before the tournament began; they were missing their ace-in-the-hole.  Just 25 minutes in, the Italians’ defense was breached and Vittek had his 1st goal of the game.  Still Italy didn’t switch gears.  They stuck to dogged defending and upped the thespian volume.  First official Howard Webb, bless him, wasn’t having any of it, from either team.  When anybody tried to play the post-tackle excruciating-agony scene, he was on it in a flash, exhorting the downed player in no uncertain terms to get the hell up.

Italian coach Lippi did make a couple of substitutions at half-time, but it didn’t make the slightest difference in their game.  I’d have thought it might’ve startled the Italians out of their stupor when Vittek scored again at 73 minutes, but no.  It wasn’t until the 80-minute mark that Italy suddenly seemed to realize they were on the verge of failing to advance.  For the last 10 minutes of the match, an entirely different Italian team took to the pitch — an attacking team with a single-pronged strategy:  get the ball, get it up the pitch, score.

For ten glorious minutes the Italians played with power, speed, focus and desire.  Di Natale got the Azzurri back in it at 81 minutes, but Slovakia wasn’t about to let the game slip away from them.  They restored their 2-goal cushion at 89 minutes, when Kopuneck — who had only just come on as a substitute — latched onto a throw and beat the Italian keeper with his very first touch on the ball.  Quagliarella’s goal in stoppage time simply wasn’t enough.  It ended Slovakia 3 – 2 Italia, a brilliant result and maybe, just maybe, the biggest shock of the tournament.

Danmark, delig Danmark… farvel, farvel.

I know it’s breaking young Sorcha Fatooh’s heart, but the Japanese caught the Danes out not once, but twice in quick succession –  two stunning free kicks before 20 minutes were gone.  It would’ve been plenty to put them through, even after Denmark (barely) equalized on a penalty kick, but Japan snagged another goal before the end, leaving the score a definitive 3-1 in their favor.

Playing on the same pitch that was England keeper Robert Green’s bane, the Danes’ man-in-goal could do nothing to keep Honda’s sweetly-struck 30-yard free kick from crossing both the wall and the line, and he was caught wrong-footed for Endo’s curling effort minutes later.  “Now, there’s a team that’s figured out how to control the Jabulani ball,” I remarked to my hubby as the Danes stared shell-shocked at the jumping-for-joy mounds of embracing, ululating Japanese.

I had that righter than I realized.  According to Owen Gibson, writing for the UK Guardian, the Jabulani ball is used in the J-League.  Familiar with its idiosyncrasies, Okada’s squad was able to deliver those soaring, dipping, utterly dramatic long balls from distance that have been so sadly lacking in the competition till now.

In the first minutes, it looked like Denmark was going for it, while Japan was content to play for the draw.  Noting Denmark’s too rooted, too static defense, Japan switched their policy to shoot-on-sight.  They impressed every time they swept forward, and they swept forward at will and just because they could.  They were aggressive, courageous, cunning and precise; their attack-minded football not only rewarded Japan with a decisive win and a place in the Sweet 16, it gave fans and neutral viewers alike top-notch, top-drawer entertainment.

Denmark’s previous matches (with Holland and Cameroon) had probably gone to plan.  Against Japan, the composition of the the Danish squad (a few young/ promising players (Bendtner, Erikson), a few young/ not-so experienced players (Ennevoldson, Kjaer) and a few experienced/ slowing-down players (Rommedahl, Tomasson, Gronkjaer) caused Danish Dynamite to sputter and fizzle.  It was Soccer Nippon Daihyō that ignited on the pitch.

Sorry, Sorcha, but even the disappointed Danes admit it — the better team won.