The pissing rain and Nelson Mandela Stadium’s typically poor pitch condition added to the drama of the emotionally-charged match.  Some say the 3rd place play-off is a meaningless fixture.  Meaningless in terms of glory and glamour, maybe — but when teams have nothing but pride to play for, more often than not, they play a damn good game.

Uruguay v Germany 2010 didn’t disappoint.  The match was open, free-flowing, and exciting from kick-off to final whistle.  Chances were taken and chances were missed.  Good calls were made, bad calls, too.  There were perfectly-timed tackles and brutally poor ones, successful and disastrous link-up play, long balls, set-plays, shots-on-goal that were neatly gathered, shots that were perilously spilled, shots that came off the crossbar, shots that caressed the wrong side of the uprights.  And there were plenty of goals.

Müller put Germany ahead at 19 minutes.  (That boy is a real talent; we’ll be seeing a lot of him in years ahead.)  Just 9 minutes later, Schweinsteiger (of all people) was dispossessed midfield.  Uruguay took off on the break and Cavani finished with style.

On the other side of the interval, Uruguay took the lead through a beauty of a goal by the irrepressible Diego Forlán, then lost it almost immediately by allowing Jansen to head the ball into an unguarded net.  It was neck-and-neck through a ferociously fought 2nd half until the final stretch, when Khedira capitalized on a corner from Özil by heading a wild ball off the bounce well past Uruguay’s over-taxed keeper.

Could Uruguay keep the see-saw going and equalize yet again?  They got their chance in the very last seconds of the game, from a free kick just outside the box.  Forlán’s wonderful effort came within an inch of putting the game into extra time.  The chance careened off the crossbar.

No glory, no glamour.  Yeah, but a respectable loss. A bittersweet victory.  And a damn good game.

A few days ago I posed the question, “How the hell is anybody going to beat these guys?”  I feared I was being rhetorical.  Turns out Spain had the answer.

• Stick with the passing game.
• Attack like crazy.
• Stifle Germany on the break.
• Don’t be afraid to compete with German giants in the air.

In their now infamous Group stage defeat to Switzerland, Spain played in every corner and half their set pieces short and low.  The predictability of their game made it all too easy for the Swiss to stand firm.  Switzerland scored on the break.  Spain never scored at all.

If Spain had played this semi-final the same way, they’d likely have seen the same result.  Instead, they ran the Germans ragged, fiercely attacking at one end of the pitch, smothering counter-attacks at the other.  My friend Dec couldn’t remember afterward if the Germans even got a shot off on goal.  (They did.  Just the one.  It prompted an exquisite save from Casillas.)

The breakthrough came in the 73rd minute, when Puyol — surely the smallest player on the pitch — ran up unmarked from the back, rose above the also-unmarked Pique to meet Xavi’s sweetly-launched corner, and headed the ball unequivocally into Neuer’s net.

Germany, of course, is now rooting for Spain.  Why?  Same reason England has been rooting for Germany.  Because a team would rather be defeated by the incipient WC champions than by another bunch of losers.  Bet you anything, Uruguay’s rooting for Holland.

As for the 3rd-place play-off in a few hours time… Uruguay claims they’re going for the jugular.  Germany’s got something to prove.  Should be a helluva match.

With two star player suspended on reds and Lugano — their captain — not fit to start, Uruguay was forced to make changes, upping the pressure on Diego Forlán immeasurably.  Holland had to make changes, too, but with a prized player returning (Mathijsen) and a deep bench, the Dutch were sitting prettier.

Holland threatened right away.  Uruguay shot back, but when Dutch captain van Bronkhorst scored before 20 minutes had gone — a perfectly placed bullet that soared, dipped and apparently hit 61 mph on its 41 yard journey to the far corner of Muslera’s net — it was tempting to believe in Dutch domination and write the Uruguayans off.

Uruguay’s immediate response was a flurry of messy tackles and over-the-top reactions to tackles made by the other side.  About 10 minutes after the goal, a bicycle-kick attempt by Caceras caught de Zeeuw full in the face.  Uruguay collected themselves in the medical time-out and resumed play determined to get back in the game.  Their perseverance paid off at 41 minutes when Forlán took possession about 30 yards out, cut inside and let fly.  Stekelenburg had been an ace in the hole till then, but he’ll hate watching the replay of this one getting by him.

The result (Uruguay 2 – 3 Holland) is a bit misleading.  The last Uruguay goal, snatched by Maxi Rodriguez at 92 minutes, helped make the score more respectable, but Holland at the game sewed up in the 70-80 minute zone, thanks to a gorgeous header from Robben and Sneijder’s slightly deflected, but undeniably on-target strike.

Citing the goals and goalscorers is misleading, as well.  The Netherlands have reached the 2010 Final an undefeated team not because of the individual brilliance of specific players, but because of their fantastic cohesion.  Coach van Marwijk has achieved something remarkable; he’s somehow got his boys to drop their egos without compromising their skills and hit the pitch with unity of purpose, common intention and unselfish play.  Today, Holland is “the best team never to have won the cup.”  Come Sunday, they may just be “the best.”

On paper?  A not-to-be-missed match, end-to-end, neck-and-neck.

On the pitch…  Argentina got creamed.  Germany won by a resounding 4 – 0 margin.  The one and only question I had at the end of the 90 minutes was, “How the hell is anybody going to beat these guys?”

Argentina’s pride was crushed as thoroughly as their hopes.  Lionel Messi — arguably the best footballer in the world — wept inconsolably in the dressing room.  Manager Diego Maradona had to take time to to compose himself before addressing the media.  A team that looked full-willing to go all the way, the best Argentinian team to take to the field since Maradona wore the captain’s armband were handed their 2nd biggest defeat in their nation’s WC history.

On a Maradona’s-karma level, the result may be justified.  El Diego’s chequered WC past includes being kicked off the pitch for kicking a Brazilian player in ‘82, his “hand of God” goal in ‘86 (part legitimate header, part divine dexterity, according to Maradona), a black mark by association for the “holy water scandal” in ‘90 (a Brazilian left-back alleged the water bottle passed to him by the Argentinian staff during the match was laced with tranqs), and another that same tournament for suggesting that as he’d just helped Naples to a 2nd Serie-A title, Neapolitans should support Argentina over Italy in the semi-final (being held in — you guessed it — fair Napoli), and dismissal from the ‘94 WC after testing positive for ephedrine.

To be fair, Maradona was a brilliant player.  He won the golden Ball in ‘86 and scored what may well have been the best goal of that tourney against England (after the deity-assisted handball).  To be fairer, the exceedingly talented Argentinian team we’ve been watching in 2010 has clearly not been playing under anybody’s karmic burden.  In fact, Argentina had a relatively easy ride to the Quarterfinals.  In this — their toughest match — their skill and style simply weren’t enough to combat the merciless brilliance of the young German lions.  Neuer’s confident acrobatics, Podolski’s incisive command of the left, old-man Klose’s still keen instincts in front of goal, Özil’s precision switching for hook-up play, Bastian Schweinsteiger’s jaw-dropping, inspirational, indomitable skill and Germany’s cohesion as a team overwhelmed the less experienced Argentine players and exposed their organizational weakness.

On a side note, un-merrie olde England, while still and forever in the doghouse for their lackluster crash-and-burn, can take a modicum of comfort that they scored at all against Germany, while the star-studded Albicelestes failed to find the back of the net even once.  Germany goes on, and well they should.  They play like true champions.

***

PARAGUAY v SPAIN

In the earlier game of the day, Germany and Argentina seemed to be playing each other from across a Great Divide of quality and confidence.  In this game it took 2 penalties, a passel of shots off-the woodwork and 83 minutes to separate the Spaniards from the Paraguayans.

Paraguay’s game is not the free-flowing, attacking football we all love so well.  Paraguay’s game is protect the goal, let nothing in, capitalize on the other team’s errors or on the break, and grind out a squeaky victory.  The 1st option gives us an open game — footy “eye-candy.”  Paraguay’s strategy has done them proud in this tourney and carried them far — but it’s “nails-on-the-chalkboard” for viewers like me.  For them, it’s a risky gamble.

If Paraguay’s opponents make no fatal errors and neutralize their efforts to score (as did Spain, with a few close-call exceptions), then Paraguay isn’t defending a pending victory, but only a chance to go to extra time and penalties.  The longer the game goes on, the more likely Paraguay will lose — because if their defense fails and their opponents nab a goal late in the match, they suddenly and belatedly need uncommon strength, stamina, skill and luck to get back on level terms.  (83rd minute, Villa… hel-lo?)

Coming into the match with one of the best defensive records in the tournament, it’s easy to see why Paraguay centered their tactics on maintaining the back line and holding the midfield.  Offensively, Paraguay managed only 3 goals from their previous matches.  Defense is grand, but bottom line, you can’t win if you don’t get the ball across your opponent’s goal-line.

The match was a tense, frustrating, finally nail-biting experience for the Spanish players, bench and fans — but all it took was 1 quick-reaction goal (from David Villa, naturally) to transform anxiety to relief and send Spain to the Semifinals.

Sloppy officiating at the end of the match added excitement while keeping the scoreline unfairly low.  First Pique gave away a penalty, but Casillas prevented Paraguay from equalizing with one of the most astonishing saves to date; he didn’t just stop the ball — he held it.   Moments later, Alonso was awarded a penalty at the other end of the pitch.  His shot found the back of the net, but the ref ordered it re-taken.  Penalties favor the striker, but re-taken penalties tip the scales in the goalkeeper’s direction.  Alonso’s 2nd try was saved, but in the follow-up scramble, the keeper unfairly brought Fabregas down in the box.  Spain should’ve been awarded another crack at goal, but there was no call.  An incredible amount of action in a fantastically short space of time… and it had zero effect on the score.

Spain’s triumph sets us up for a Euro-Cup rematch, Germany v Spain.  I am so there.

Holland has what it takes to be real contenders.  They’ve already shown their coordination, precision passing, attack mentality and individual skills.  In this match they revealed a ruthless side to their game that sent a message to their opponents in the next round:  if our beautiful football isn’t enough to win it, we’ll win it another way.

Favorites Brazil took the lead in the 1st half, thanks to glorious, fluid movement that repeatedly swamped the Dutch defense.  Andre Ooijer, in at center back for the injured Mathijson, let Melo gain far too much ground and pass the ball.  Robinho connected and Stekelenburg was beaten.

The goal set Brazil off on a series of attacks that only failed to reward due to Juan and Kaka and Fabiano failing to finish.  Unfazed, Brazil started counting their chickens at the interval.  Way too soon.  In the 2nd half, the Dutch dug in and played a more cynical game, tactically designed to put Brazil off their stride.  The yellow cards started mounting, tempers flared.  The usually impeccable Julio Cesar totally missed Sneijder’s cross as it brushed off Melo’s head and into the net for an own goal.  Jolted into action, Brazil attempted to regain their advantage.  Instead, the Dutch got a corner.  Robben crossed, Kuyt flicked it on, Sneijder headed it in.

Frustrated by Robben going down too easily and too often, Melo tromped on the Dutch winger’s leg and was given a straight red card.  Down to 10 men, Brazil’s composure unraveled — they never seriously threatened again.  The Nederlands didn’t achieve the prettiest win ever, but it was emphatic.  Their post-game celebrations made a stark contrast to the Brazilians’ glassy-eyed shock and dismay at having crashed ingloriously out of contention.

***

URUGUAY v GHANA

The last set of Quarterfinals, the Semifinals and the Final notwithstanding, this was the match of the tournament, an edge-of-the-seat thriller that went to full-time, extra time and a penalty shootout before Uruguay’s dreams came true and Ghana’s — nay, Africa’s heart was broken.

It was game-on from the kickoff.  A breathless 1st half ended in a stunning 30-yard strike from Muntari that put Ghana ahead on the stroke of 1/2-time and transformed him from a bad-guy (sent home last week after butting heads with the coach) into a pan-African hero.  Uruguay struck back at 55 minutes through Diego Forlán — and no surprise there.  Uruguay’s success to date is largely due to their top striker being in top form.  His free kick was yet another masterpiece; the notorious Jabulani went one way then bent the other, utterly hookwinking Kingson in goal.

All tied at 1 – 1 at full time, we got another 1/2-hour of unrelenting, attacking football from both sides.  Literally in the last seconds of play, a shot-on-goal by Adiyiah was kicked off the line and his follow up punched off the line by Suárez.  The deliberate handball won the Uruguayan a red and Gyan — another striker having an excellent tournament — stepped up to the spot.  The game was his to win, but incredibly, appallingly he struck the bar.

Uruguay was down to 10 men, but that doesn’t mean squat in a penalty shoot-out.   Having squandered a gilt-edged opportunity, Ghana was rightly reeling, yet astonishingly it was Gyan who fearlessly returned to the spot to take the first penalty.  And damned if he didn’t convert it.

Though Gyan had the grit to face the gaping net and send the ball screaming into it, still the wind had gone out of Ghana’s sails.  They hung on for a few rounds, then Mensah hit a weak one that the Uruguayan keeper saved.  Next up, Pereira missed by a mile, but Ghana couldn’t capitalize.  With a wonderful, one-handed stop, the Muslera sent Adiyiah’s subsequent shot wide.  Uruguay clinched the win with a cheeky chip down the center from Abreu.

Ghana came this close to becoming the first African nation to reach the Semifinals.  A wild miss and 2 great saves later, it’s Uruguay moving on with the aim of recapturing the cup they won 80 years ago.

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.

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.)

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.

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.

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.