Steven Rubio's World Cup

fever pitch

One thing I know for sure about being a fan is this: it is not a vicarious pleasure, despite all appearances to the contrary, and those who say that they would rather do than watch are missing the point.... When there is some kind of triumph, the pleasure does not radiate from the players outwards until it reaches the likes of us at the back of the terraces in a pale and diminished form; our fun is not a watery version of the team's fun ... The joy we feel on occasions like this is not a celebration of others' good fortune, but a celebration of our own; and when there is a disastrous defeat the sorrow that engulfs us is, in effect, self-pity, and anyone who wishes to understand how football is consumed must realise this above all things.

--Nick Hornby, Fever Pitch

“You are asking which is more important – Brazil or a U.S. invasion?,” one Haitian fan asked an American reporter in 1994. “We are hungry every day. We have problems every day. The Americans talk about invading every day. But we only have the World Cup every four years.”

-- Simon Kuper, Soccer Against the Enemy

the netherlands

Spain won all four of their knockout matches by scores of 1-0. First was Portugal, who played a strong defense but lacked offensive power even if they’d tried to play an attacking game. They lost, but for an hour it was close, and the Portuguese never embarrassed themselves.

Next was Paraguay, one of the most defensive teams in international soccer. You could say the same thing about them as I just did about Portugal, that they lost but held Spain close for 83 minutes. Paraguay was more boring than Portugal, but that’s the worst you can say about them (and yes, to me, boring is bad).

Then, the Germans. Again, a defensive approach, although this time, Germany always had the threat of a counterattack. A threat was all it turned out to be … Spain played excellent defense in this tournament … but the match didn’t seem inevitable the way the previous two did. Germany’s performance, along with their win in the third-place match, means they leave South Africa with their heads held high.

Which brings us to the Netherlands. They, too, had a strategy to defeat Spain. I can’t say it was more entertaining than the others, because it wasn’t … much of the match was dreadful, easily the worst of Spain’s four knockout matches. A month ago, I wrote:

The Netherlands gave us the still-beloved “Total Football” in the 1970s. Soccer today is in many ways a child of Total Football … every player is expected to be able to do a little of everything. Combined with the cultural stereotype of Holland as a fun-loving land of legal pot-smokers, and it’s easy to understand why soccer fans enjoy watching the team in orange. Except … sometimes, like Argentina, the Dutch erupt into the kind of brutal play that is anything but beautiful.

Guess which Netherlands showed up in the final?

There is something worse than a boring soccer team, and that is a soccer team that relies on thuggish play to achieve their goals. Sean hunted this down … check it out, you’ll see what I’m talking about:

http://www.mocksession.com/30fps//KUNGFUCOCCOR.gif

The Dutch played like this for 120 minutes. They committed 28 fouls. They picked up card after card after card, with one player picking up two yellows, leading to his dismissal … seven minutes later, Iniesta scored the winning goal.

Portugal played defense, and lost 1-0. Paraguay played even more defense, and lost 1-0. Germany played defense and tried to play offense, and they lost, 1-0.

The Netherlands acted like butchers for two hours, and whattya know? They lost, 1-0.

The Portuguese, the Paraguayans, the Germans, all of them go home frustrated but, I imagine, proud. The Dutch? They go home knowing they suck, and they lost. For all I know, they’re proud, too, but they don’t deserve to be.

spain

Back on June 16th, I posted the following on the Spain-Switzerland match:

Nine days ago I wrote, “If Spain wins the World Cup, they will be united, and underachievers no more. If they do not win it all, their old reputation will continue to haunt them.”

Say hello to your reputation.

Say goodbye to your reputation. Say hello to the new one: World Cup Champions.

Let’s see if I can get this right:

• From the Catalan area: Gerard Piqué, Carles Puyol, Xavi, Joan Capdevila, Cesc Fàbregas, Sergio Busquets, Víctor Valdés.
• Andalusia: Sergio Ramos, Carlos Marchena, Jesús Navas.
• From the Madrid area: Iker Casillas, Fernando Torres, Pepe Reina.
• From Basque country: Xabi Alonso, Javi Martínez.
• Asturias: David Villa, Juan Manuel Mata.
• Tenerife: Pedro. Canary Islands: David Silva.
• Pamplona: Fernando Llorente.
• Albacete: Andrés Iniesta.
• Salamanca: Álvaro Arbeloa.
• Valencia: Raúl Albiol.

I guess they can play together, after all.

netherlands-spain

It was an awful match for too many of its 120 minutes. At halftime, I switched over to ABC to see what they were saying, and there was Ruud Gullit, an elegant player during his great career, saying Nigel De Jong’s vicious thuggery against Xabi Alonso was a turning point in the match, in favor of the Dutch. That sums up the influence of the Netherlands in this match. Even so, their strategy almost worked, with only a couple of saves by Casillas, Saint Iker, preventing a Dutch win.

The extra half hour was the best the match could give us. Neither team played for penalties … well, once the Dutch went down a man they did, but that’s understandable. It was never a great match, but given the tension and context, that last half hour was good enough.

It was appropriate that Iniesta scored the goal. He was the recipient of much of the early Dutch thuggery … they knew who needed to be shut down … and in the final fifteen minutes, it was Iniesta who kept beating Holland’s defense, forcing them into fouls (one of which, of course, led to the expulsion of Heitinga). They tried all day to kill off Iniesta, and he responded in the best way possible.

Referee Howard Webb had an impossible task, thanks largely to the Dutch. De Jong absolutely deserved a red card for his intentional demolition of Alonso, but I think Webb was trying to keep 22 men on the field. He almost made it. People will point to the large number of cards given, but the players need to look in the mirror if they want to see the reason behind those cards.

OK, I’m done being “objective.”

90 minutes

The match picked up around the 70th minute or so … Navas finally gave Spain some width. But the first 70 minutes were just crap. Neither team deserves to win … the Dutch are too thuggish, but without Iker Casillas, this match would be over and Spain would have lost. Hopefully the next half hour will be more like the end of the 90 and less like the beginning.

halftime

The Dutch are doing a good job of disrupting the Spanish short passing game. To my eye, the reasons are:

• They press quickly once the ball enters their half of the field.
• They are, shall we say, aggressive.
• The Spanish are not as precise with their passes as they have been in the past.
• The Spanish insist on going through the middle, which is extremely clogged up.

Howard Webb is doing a good job dealing with a dirty Netherlands side and a Spanish side that has been drawn into the dirt a few times, too. Webb’s biggest mistake was not giving a red card to De Jong for his Stephen Chow imitation.

There is almost nothing in the first half which the neutral fan would find appealing. I’m riveted, but I care who wins. I wouldn’t blame casual fans for changing the channel.

and so it comes to this

My first memory of soccer as a spectator sport is probably 1967, the year of the NPSL (precursor to the NASL), which had a contract with CBS. The color commentator was the legendary Danny Blanchflower (I had no idea then he was a legend), who was the best thing about the games:

The real star of the TV game was a retired soccer player who is regarded as the best produced in Ireland in a generation—Danny Blanchflower. Blanchflower was the color man for Jack Whitaker, a CBS sports announcer who struggled manfully, and, on the whole, successfully with the problem of presenting soccer intelligibly to an audience that must have known little or nothing about the nuances of the game. Blanchflower, speaking in a crisp, engaging accent, was refreshingly honest in his comments. It is quite evident he has a lot to learn before he becomes as reluctant as American announcers to criticize. His estimate of the action on the field was clear and biting.

My first live match was 1978, the only year of the Oakland Stompers in the NASL (their goalie was Shep Messing).

My first experience with the ways soccer captured the fans was 1984, when I was in Europe during the European Championships (Spain lost in the final).

My first international live match was later that same year, USA-Costa Rica in the Olympics. The U.S. won, 3-0, and Ricky Davis scored twice.

My first concentrated dose of Spanish-language televised soccer was the 1986 World Cup, with Tony Tirado doing play-by-play for SIN, the Spanish International Network, which later became Univision.

My first experience with a local team to call my own was 1996, when the San Jose Clash and MLS began (that ticket you can see at the top of this blog is from the very first MLS match, which I attended).

And now it comes to this: the first time either of the national teams I care most about is in the final. Maybe before I die I’ll get to see the U.S. make it this far. For now, Spain will have to do. It’s going to be excruciating for the next few hours.

spain and me

There was nothing special about us when we were growing up. There were a lot of ethnic families … I’m pretty sure Mexicans and Italians were the most common, at least the ones where it seemed like they had an “extra” identity. There was a tiny Spanish community, but not enough for most of us to notice. And, since it was the time of assimilation, we were raised as middle-class white kids.

Still, my maternal grandmother spoke with a thick accent, and she had a big painting of a bullfighter on the wall, and she made interesting foods we didn’t find anywhere else. I never thought of myself as Spanish, I was always an American, but there was a touch of something different.

This was pretty much my identity until I went to Spain for the first time, in 1984. Didn’t actually get down to the part of Spain my family is from … we stayed north amongst the Catalans … but I felt some weird romantic specialness when I heard the water outside our hostel that first night. Perhaps coincidentally, the European soccer championships were going on then, and Spain made the finals, where they lost to that great Platini-led French team. I paid some attention to the goings on, although to be honest my memories are less about the Spanish team and more about Platini.

Beginning in 2000, we started going to Spain fairly often: 2000, 2003, 2007, 2009. Each time we went to Andalucía, land of my father’s family. Robin noted from the start that I was able to relax there in ways I never relax anywhere else. Between those trips, and my improved command of the Spanish language, I guess I felt more Spanish than I ever did before.

Not that I was ever anything other than American. In 2009, I was in Spain when the Confederations Cup was being played. By that point, Spain hadn’t lost a match in three years. The United States met Spain in the semi-finals. Spain’s team that day was largely composed of the same people you’ve been watching the last month in the World Cup. The U.S. won the match, 2-0. I assure you, I was rooting for the USA.

That was the last time I rooted against Spain, a team that is now one match away from putting aside the final remnants of their reputation as underachievers. Somewhere over the years, I came to understand that perhaps the most Spanish thing about this American white boy was my own excellence at underachieving.

I think of these things, as I await tomorrow’s match between Spain and the Netherlands.

uruguay-germany

Hey, I told you there would be a lot of goals!

This is what happens when two teams packed with great players are not fully concerned with the outcome. Make sure you don’t get hurt, put on a good show, and if you win, all the better. That it came down to Forlan hitting the crossbar on the last play of the match is appropriate. Entertaining, and meaningless. Even if you like goals as much as I do, a glorified friendly will never be as good as one of your favorite teams playing in a World Cup final. That’s true even if the final score is Spain 1-0 over Netherlands, which is my prediction, by the way.

what to watch this weekend

Of course, you’re watching the final on Sunday. Maybe you haven’t decided if you are fanatic enough to watch the third-place match on Saturday. Or maybe you think Spain is boring and you don’t want to watch the final, after all.

In 2006, Germany won the third-place match, 3-1. The final was a 1-1 draw decided on penalties.

In 2002, the score of the third-place match was 3-2. The score of the final was 2-0.

In 1998, the third-place match was 2-1, the final was 3-0.

In 1994, the third-place match was 4-0, the final was 0-0.

1990? 2-1 for third, 1-0 in the final.

1986: 4-2 for third, 3-2 final.

1982: 3-2, 3-1.

You have to go back to 1978 to find a World Cup where the final match had more goals than the third-place match. In the seven tournaments since then, there have been 30 goals in the third-place match, 17 in the finals.

So if all you care about is goals, you should watch on Saturday, where you can find out what soccer looks like when the teams don’t really care who wins. Think “NBA All-Star Game.”

his balls are bigger than a jabulani

It interests me that I’m spending so much time trying to defend Spain’s style of play, when it would seem to be the opposite of what I usually like. Partly this is a good sign, I hope, of my trying to learn something new. But it’s true, the impetus comes from wanting Spain to win; without that, I’d hate ‘em.

Meanwhile, Barney Ronay seems to have written an entire column using his dick as a pen. Apparently, Spain are boring because they aren’t manly, lower-class brutes:

Spain play a kind of platinum-selling dinner party football – Coldplay Football – that is clearly and undeniably high spec, but also devoid of jarringly revelatory spikes and twists. Playing against Spain must feel a little like playing a chess computer: strangled, impotent, you gawp helplessly at its robotic grace….

This is a hyper-modern style. It stands right at the frontier of what 20 years of fine macro-engineering by the game's twin governing bodies – Fifa and television – has decreed football is now going to be.

It is important to note that football has changed beyond recognition over this period. The element of concussive physicality has been decisively muted. This is no longer a violent contact sport. Watch a little of even the 1990 World Cup and you keep wondering where all the free-kicks are; how the players keep getting away with all that leaning and chopping and barging.

For more than a century this was the essential appeal of the game: moments of beauty gouged out of something unyielding and often gruesome….

Spain's is a televisual style, the evolutionary fruit of 20 years of rule-tinkering and spectacle-promotion. Football's physicality, the style that still endures in the lower leagues in England, only really makes sense in the flesh. The thrilling audible crunch of physical collision does not translate to the screen…. we crave something more flawed, a more rugged and potholed contest, less exactingly marshalled and stewarded.

Revelatory spikes … concussive physicality … violent contact … chopping and barging … often gruesome … the audible crunch of physical collision … more rugged … the real question is, why did they let a rugby fan write a column about soccer?

beautiful attrition

Jonathan Wilson again, this time writing for an English paper:

There are those who protest at their lack of goals (no side has reached the final scoring fewer) but they are a classic example of a team that prefers to control the game than to become obsessed by creating chances. Perhaps they at times become mesmerised by their passing, perhaps there is even something attritional about it, wearing opponents down until they make the mistake, but it is beautiful attrition. … Frankly, if they ever faced a side who took them on rather than sitting eight men behind the ball, we may see a more overtly attacking Spain.

I’ll tell you who Spain reminds me of: the 49ers during the Bill Walsh West Coast Offense years, dominating the opposition by possession secured via a short-passing game. There seems to be some general agreement amongst fans both casual and more fervent that Spain is boring. As should be clear by now, I am not the one to ask about this … I am a vocal detractor when it comes to what I perceive as negative tactics, but I also admit to wearing my heart on my sleeve. If Spain manages yet another 1-0 win in the final, that will be a good game to me; if they lose, 4-3, it will be a bad game.

Still, I’ll risk letting my Spain fandom cloud my vision, and offer the following: Spain’s “boring” play is directly correlated to the play of their opponents. Spain plays the most patient soccer imaginable. They have supreme confidence in their ability to hold the ball, to use their passing skills to keep possession while they search for the tiniest advantages, and to take those advantages when they appear without just jumping at anything which looks promising to the naked eye. Fans get frustrated … we want to see something happen, and Spain is just too damn patient, so we criticize them. But the boring ones are the teams that are apparently so frightened of Spain’s attacking potential that they start the match with the bus in the parking lot. Maybe they think Spain will expose themselves with rash attacks that lead nowhere, allowing the opposition to counter attack. For the last several years, though, Spain has managed to mostly avoid the rash attack. They wait, they pass, they wait, they pass.

Is this boring? Let’s just say I understand those who think Spain is a cure for insomnia. Doesn’t matter to me … they are “my” team, I don’t care how they win, just that they win. (During the Germany match, Charlie said I wouldn’t want Spain to win due to a contested call, and I assured him, I didn’t care how they won, cheating included.) But if you find yourself watching the final and thinking it’s boring, ask yourself which team is most to blame. My prediction is, the Dutch will be sitting back, afraid of Spain’s potential, and Spain will get their usual big advantage in possession and score the match’s only goal. At which point they’ll be blamed once again for being boring.

jonathan wilson on spain

Spain is the lowest-scoring team ever to reach the final, which some may use to dismiss its achievement. But is it its fault that it is so good no team will ever engage it? That it has, for three years played football of such technical class and precision that other teams are too terrified to do anything other than sit eight --or nine, or 10 -- men behind the ball? Against Germany it regularly found eight white shirts blocking its path to goal. Other sides might have panicked, and tried something different, knocked long balls in to the back post, or attempted impossible dribbles, but not Spain. It just passed some more, recycled possession, worked the ball back to the halfway line and came again. (si.com)

germany-spain

I should make a list of all the stupid things I think about when it comes to soccer. The most relevant for today’s match was: When You Care Who Wins, the Quality of the Match Is Irrelevant. You’ll have to look elsewhere for solid analysis of the match. All I know is, I had a feeling of dread the entire time. Oh, and Pedro had a great match, but holy fuck, man, pass the ball!

OK, I’ll try some elemental tactical analysis. Germany played defensively, but not in an annoying way. They were capable of turning it around at any moment, and in fact were always waiting for the killer counter attack. This wasn’t a bad team trying to stay in the game by killing it, this was a very good team playing to their strengths. Granted, the result wasn’t much different than if they sucked from the start, but that was due to Spanish excellence, not German fear. The Germans rarely got a chance to counter attack, because Spain kept possession so efficiently. The Germans did well to stifle the Spanish attack, giving them plenty of room to pass the ball amongst themselves until they got close to the goal, at which time the Germans would close them down. Mertesacker was tremendous, I thought, stuffing holes on the rare occasion that they appeared. I think it was telling that the goal came from a free kick corner … for all of Spain’s dominance on the ball, the Germans never let them in. Through passes didn’t get through, crosses were dealt with.

Germany seemed to be coming to life offensively in the period before the goal, and for some time after that they continued to push forward. But by the end of the match, they seemed resigned to their fate, and even I lost my feeling of dread.

I can’t help but mention this little factoid. I have little confidence in my tactical analysis, although I’ve learned quite a bit during this World Cup. As I was writing this, I saw the headline to Jonathan Wilson’s analysis of the match: “German counterattack negated by Spain’s dominant possession.” This is surely the first time in the tournament that I agreed with Wilson before he posted, rather than after. That’s progress for me.

None of the above mattered to me as I watched, though. All I cared was that Spain won. Spain did win. Therefore, it was a good match. I have no idea how the neutral saw it. I do know that every four years, I pick Spain to win it all. This is the closest they’ve ever come.

germany-spain preview: bite on this, germany

Uruguay-Netherlands

For the teams who make it all the way to the final, the World Cup is an endurance contest, seven games in a month. For fans who try to watch all 64 matches, there is a similar feeling, although it’s more our brains being tired than our legs. Today, after 60 matches, we finally got a day when the first (and only) match was at 11:30 Pacific time. Since it arrived on the back of two off days, you might think fans were freshened up and ready to go.

Late last week, while picking up cat food, I remembered that we had been thinking for some time about getting a new vet for our three cats. We had been happy with their first vet, but they had gone out of business, and we let it slide after that. But there was a vet next to the store that sold the cat food, and so it was that I found myself making an appointment for Six. We chose Six for the initial foray because she is the meanest of our cats when it comes to interacting with humans that aren’t me or Robin … the idea was that if the vet could stand Six, then Boomer and Starbuck would be easy.

This vet had opened a secondary office for cats only, in the same little mall area as the original. Right now, it’s only open twice a week, which wasn’t any big deal. They even had an opening on Tuesday, the 6th … today, in other words. It wasn’t going to interfere with my office hours; more importantly, it wasn’t going to interfere with the semi-finals. So I grabbed that appointment.

Which is why, on the first match day without an early-morning game, I was up at the proverbial butt-crack of dawn, so we could have Six at the vet’s at 7:40 AM (the appointment was for 8, they wanted extra time for paperwork on her first visit).

The visit went fine, but I was already a bit logy (I always wanted to use that word … never have been sure exactly what it means, but whatever it means, that’s how I felt). I couldn’t jump back in bed to finish sleeping, because I had office hours coming up, and I couldn’t jump back in bed after office hours because I had Uruguay-Netherlands coming up.

If you are wondering how I could get all the way to Paragraph Six in this blog post without saying anything about the Uruguay-Netherlands match, which was a fairly entertaining matchup, well … go back and re-read paragraphs 1-5.

The first half was enjoyable. Both goals were crackers, with Van Bronckhorst’s being especially amazing. There was almost a team fight, which always livens things up, when de Zeeuw got kicked in the face. And there was Chilavert in the announcers’ booth, making no attempt to hide his loyalties towards the continent of South America. (Univision went with three announcers today for some reason, adding Chila to the usual pairing of La torre de Jalisco and El Profe Bracamontes, and since all three of them like to talk, it got a little busy in there.)

The second half? Well, to be honest, during the entire match it seemed like something was about to happen, which is better than those matches where nothing happens at all, but it wasn’t an urgent feeling of upcoming excitement. The three-minute period when the Dutch iced the game was thrilling, and it was nice to see that late consolation goal from the Uruguayans. Actually, the end was pretty hectic, as Van Bommel finally got carded … I guess it was for Persistent Infringement, in Van Bommel’s case, “persistent” meaning “all six matches so far.” The ref let play go on long past the announced extra time, probably because of the late goal by Uruguay, and the South Americans went for it, threatening right down to the wire.

And yet, despite five goals in a World Cup semi-final, this match never felt like a classic to me. I’m trying to be fair, though, which is why I wrote those first six paragraphs. I’m afraid to say I found myself nodding off more than once in the second half, and couldn’t have fully appreciated it. This wasn’t a case of nodding off because Paraguay was playing, it was just me being tired. You’d think after almost a month of detailed planning to make sure real life did not interfere with my World Cup watching that I’d be smart enough not to schedule a visit to the vet this morning at 8:00.

Lookout tomorrow, though: I’ll be fully awake for you, Germany.

teamwork

Random thoughts as I take a shower on another off-day for the World Cup.

Recently I read something a friend had written about how we, as nations and as people within nations, see the world in which we live. I couldn’t help attaching her thoughts to my own World Cup considerations. “Everyone” knows how various countries play soccer, and those stereotypes often last beyond the point when they were true. So Brazil is chastised for not playing the way they did in 1970, and people still get surprised at the ebullience of the Germans, even though this is the second straight World Cup where they played with this kind of joy.

Then another friend directed me to an interesting article (in the Wall Street Journal, no less) that argued that the game has fallen victim to conformity. Everyone plays the same style … the author attributes this partly to rules changes, but the basic point, at least as I choose to read it, is that there is a general agreement about the best tactical road to soccer success, making it more rare for two teams to play different styles.

There’s something to his argument, although when Spain meets Germany, you’ll see, at the least, two different versions of the same style. Germany plays to counter-attack, Spain relies on possession via pinpoint passing (see Jonathan Wilson’s preview for a more astute explanation of this). (Sidenote: while it’s obvious that whatever team scores first in a soccer match has the advantage, it seems even more important here, because both Germany and Spain are more than capable of protecting a 1-0 lead when necessary.)

Still, I wasn’t thinking of this when I was in the shower. Instead, I was thinking about team sports in general. I’ll use baseball, since I know it the best. Different general managers have different ideas about how to build a team. Different field managers have different ideas about how to manage the team. Some teams have unusual parks, and they accommodate those quirks in their strategies. I suppose these change fairly quickly, since the turnover in GM and manager jobs is relatively quick, so that a team that did X, Y and Z in 2010 might be doing A, B and C in 2015. But we accept the stereotyping of teams, at least on the short term.

So, to take my favorite team, the Giants have had Brian Sabean as a GM for a long time now, and his preferences are pretty clear at this point. If you ask the average fan what kind of hitters the Giants favor, most of them would have a reasonably accurate response. Now, some of us complain about Mr. Sabean, and we get tired of having the reputation as an old age home for decrepit hitters. But in the end, it’s harmless enough.

International sports, though, are another matter. It’s one thing to say “the Giants are incompetent,” quite another to say “Africans don’t exhibit teamwork.” With the latter (a notion taken apart by Surpriya Nair in that link), national stereotypes are imposed from the outside, with all the expected power relationships present. It goes back to what my friend was writing about seeing cultures across national boundaries … the global society of today still assumes a center that lies somewhere between the West and East Coasts of the USA.

announcers

I’ve watched more than my usual share of announcers at this tournament, because for the first time I’m splitting my time between the English and Spanish-language broadcasts, thanks mostly to the fine team ESPN has put together. This means I haven’t heard anyone a bunch of times, but I’ve heard most of them at least once. My thoughts, first on the ESPN crew. It seems to me that ESPN hasn’t been afraid to mix-and-match play-by-play and color commentators … there are a couple of “teams,” but even then, you’ll see some switching around. So I’ll break these down individually.

Play-by-play: This begins with Martin Tyler, of course. For a variety of reasons, there has been some backlash against Tyler, which ESPN has clearly ignored … Tyler is already signed up for 2014. Good thing, too, since he’s terrific. He is not the most excitable announcer … he’s the Vin Scully of soccer guys, not Harry Caray. But he’s knowledgeable, professional, and loves the game. Grade: A.

Ian Darke is a bit like a more excitable Tyler. He’s not over the top, but he’s got that edge in his voice. He is also opinionated, and willing to share those opinions. He was the perfect man for the job when Donovan scored the goal against Algeria. Grade: A-.

Derek Rae is the best of the “American” announcers. Rae is, of course, Scottish, but he does announcing in the U.S. throughout the year, so he’s more one of us than is Tyler or Darke. He’s a good one. Grade: B+.

Adrian Healey isn’t bad, but he never makes much of an impression on me … he’s like a Grade-B Rae, so I’ll give him a B.

Color: Robbie Mustoe is the best, to my ear, intelligent, analytic, pays attention to what is going on during the match. Grade: A.

I’ve appreciated John Harkes in the past, but in this company, he’s seemed fairly pedestrian, given to stating the obvious. He’s a lot better than Marcelo Balboa, though, so I’ll be kind and give him a C+.

Efan Ekoku works well with the play-by-play guys, and is willing to state an opinion. He’s somewhere between Mustoe and Harkes, so he gets a B.

I know I’m forgetting some guys. I also mostly avoid the pre and post-game shows, so I can’t say much there, although Klinsmann has been charmingly ironic, and Roberto Martinez always has something useful to say.

The Univision guys work as teams, or at least that’s how it seems to me, so I have to judge them as such. On the one hand, my Spanish, while good enough, isn’t as reliable as my English, so I don’t pick up everything. On the other hand, the level of excitement these guys put into the matches makes individual words less important.

The #1 team is Pablo Ramírez and Jesús Bracamontes. Given the propensity of the Spanish-language announcers to bestow nicknames on every player, it’s appropriate that the announcers also have nicknames. Pablo is “La torre de Jalisco" due to his height, while Jesús is “El Profe” due to his past career as manager of Chivas and assistant manager of the Mexican national team. Ramírez has the plum job of all Spanish-language U.S. announcers, ever since Andrés Cantor switched networks (Cantor has done the last two Cups on radio). He is a love him or hate him guy, a decent play-by-play announcer who nonetheless is a level below the best. His quirks are either hilarious or annoying … put me in the former camp … when a goal is particularly good, he awards his infamous “AZO! AZO! AZO!’ call, which is utter nonsense but so what, and he gets these odd attractions for certain names (most famously, Simão Sabrosa, although this time, he’s even found a way to have fun with the name “Howard Webb”). Bracamontes is beyond my evaluative capabilities … perhaps my Spanish isn’t good enough, but he never seems to add much to the analysis of the matches. As a team, I’d give them a B … as individuals, La torre gets a B+ and El Profe a B-. Bracamontes does get a slight bit of grade inflation thanks to his daughter, who once represented Mexico in the Miss Universe pageant.

The #2 team is Jorge Pérez Navarro and José Luis Chilavert. Navarro is adequate, while Chilavert is much improved over 2006 … I’m confident enough in my Spanish to say that he’s a good analyst, and as I noted earlier, I loved his subjective outbursts during the Paraguay-Japan penalties. They’re the opposite of the #1 team … I’d give Navarro a B-, Chila a B+, and the team a B.

I haven’t heard much of the #3 team, Jorge Ottati and Diego Balado, so I should give them an incomplete, but since they haven’t made an impression on me, and since one of the main attractions of the Spanish-language guys is the way they insert excitement into the match, I’ll give them a C. From what I’ve seen, they aren’t the guys I’d recommend to non-Spanish speakers who want a taste of the Spanish style of announcing.

Basically, even the worst of these guys is tolerable. With all 64 matches in HD, both on ESPN and Univision, I really have no complaints, although the Univision picture has been a bit more erratic than ESPN’s. This has been a very enjoyable Cup from a television point of view.

why spain won

The experts are starting to chime in. You’d think I’d wait to hear from them before I offer my half-baked take on things. Jonathan Wilson explains exactly when Spain quit being incompetent:

[H]ow long can Vicente del Bosque carry on trying to fit two strikers into his system? …

[I]t was only after Torres had been withdrawn for Cesc Fabregas 10 minutes into the second half last night that Spain really began to play….

Del Bosque now has a serious decision to make. Can he really carry on playing Torres when he seems so to unbalance the side, or would he be better making the switch … and adopt a five-man midfield? The thought of Xavi, who has had a quiet tournament by his standards, Iniesta and Fabregas combining in the same midfield, whether with Busquets and Xabi Alonso holding or with Fabregas deeper and Pedro on the flank is mouthwatering …

Sean had this from the start, tweeting as the goal was scored, “Iniesta's run that created the goal. Exact type of run I expect with inclusion of Cesc. Probing, asking questions of the defense.”

paraguay-spain

Paraguay is almost interesting, in a soporific kind of way. Spain had more than 60% of the possession in the first half, but failed on all ten of their crosses and had zero shots on goal. Some of that was Spanish incompetence, but a lot of it was Paraguay’s defense, which did their job and then some for most of the match. Paraguay still had a good chance at the semi-finals with seven minutes to go, and that’s a feat not to be dismissed. That they got that far while going scoreless in their last three matches is truly remarkable … and boy, am I glad they’re finally gone.

The second half was more of the same at first … Spain’s first shot on goal finally came in the 60th minute, via a penalty that had to be retaken. The few minutes surrounding the 60-minute mark were amazing, like Sister Rosetta Tharpe showing up at a funeral and whipping out her guitar. The ref was 2-for-3, Spain was 1-for-2, and Paraguay, as usual, was 0-for-1. The first penalty was a legit call (one for the ref); the penalty was saved (0-for-1, Paraguay). The second penalty call was also legit (two for the ref); the penalty was good (one for Spain) but called back by the ref, after which the retake was saved (1-for-2 for Spain). In the ensuing scrum, the ref missed a clear penalty (2-for-3, ref).

And then the match returned to its version of the norm. Spain did all the things they usually do, except score goals. Paraguay did all the things they usually do, which is a big reason why Spain didn’t score. Spain was also pretty unimaginative … it takes something special to connect on a billion passes in a row, have 2/3rds of the possession, and yet never manage to get a shot on goal. Zonal Marking and Jonathan Wilson will be good reads; ZM actually explained how Paraguay could stymie Spain in their preview, and they were pretty much on target. But as much credit as we give to Paraguay’s defense and tactics, Spain gets demerits for not figuring out how to get past a clearly inferior team.

If Germany scores first in the semis, Spain are probably toast. The Germans can defend as well as Paraguay, and they have a lovely attacking game as well. Spain is screwed if the Germans can sit back and wait for counters while holding a lead. I picked Spain to win it all, but I have no idea how they’re going to get past Germany. It’s time to sit Torres, who has given top effort but simply isn’t up to speed yet. Other than that, you’ve got me.

robert enke

Jennifer Doyle reminds us of a story about Germany that shouldn’t be forgotten. “On the eve of the World Cup, players reminded the press that this tournament was different.  This year, they were playing in the wake of traumatic loss, and would do their best to honor the memory of Robert Enke, the German National Team goalkeeper who committed suicide in November 2009.”

She quotes liberally from an article by Dominic Fifield, and then concludes:

It is easy to fall back on stereotypes about the German squad - as clinical, for example - but this particular squad defies such templates not only in the dynamism and vision of their game, but in their public embrace of Enke's memory and in their support for other athletes struggling with depression. The squad has promised a portion of any bonus it earns from the World Cup to the Robert Enke Foundation - set up by the German FA to support research and treatment of depression.
That the team has come together like this, in the wake of such a sad loss, around such a taboo subject (especially in the macho and often heartless world of sports cultures), is truly inspiring.

more informative stuff from zonal marking

Their post on Argentina-Germany was predictably harsh. (“There was so little element of ‘tactics’ to it that it barely deserves talking about,” they wrote about the final 20 minutes.) It was always coming, unless Argentina won it all, since Maradona’s tactics were always suspect.

One area where I was enlightened regarded Messi and Tevez. To my less-tutored eye, Tevez seemed to be having a good match … he was all over the place, and where was Messi? ZM:

They had little width high up the pitch, whilst Tevez and Messi operated too close together. Messi increasingly dropped deeper and deeper to pick up possession, summing up his frustration at a lack of service. Such is the love for knee-jerk reactions and an obsession with using the phrase ‘big game bottler’, Messi will probably be blamed for putting in a poor performance in this game, but he actually did rather well. He weaved in and out of challenges and played some genuinely excellent passes (that weren’t forthcoming from Argentina’s midfielders), but he was simply being forced to play too deep, with Tevez eating up the space he wanted to occupy.

argentina-germany

Germany were back to being their old efficient self. Argentina had a lot of possession, but rarely looked like scoring. Messi played like someone who still had the flu. Germany took advantage of a shaky Argentine defense, and that was that. When it was 1-0, I had to use the bathroom, but I waited. When it was 2-0, I wondered why I didn’t just press pause and do my duty. When it was 3-0, I said fuck it and went downstairs without bothering to press pause. When I got back, it was 4-0. German fans are rightly delighted, Maradona haters can gloat. If Spain can get past Paraguay, they’ll meet Germany in the semis. Too bad Italy is out … they could all have a fascist reunion.

uruguay-ghana

I’ve often argued that a great finish does not make a great match. This was not a great match, although it was much better than expected. And the drama of penalties (and there is no denying they are dramatic) is often not earned, but this match was good enough and even enough that they seemed appropriate, if penalties ever are.

But, there was the ending. Luis Suárez seemed to act perfectly naturally: action at the goalmouth, last seconds of the match, the ball headed into the net, Uruguay on their way home … I wouldn’t call it an intentional handball, I’d call it a reflexive handball. He did what any of us would do, and did it without thinking. When he realized what he’d done, he was destroyed … he’d cost his team a shot at the semi-finals.

And then Asamoah Gyan hits the crossbar.

It’s a bit much to say the penalties were anti-climactic. Gyan was the first Ghanian, he scored, and major props to Ghana manager Milovan Rajevac for putting Gyan first.

And then … if you had told me one of the most emotionally-charged moments in World Cup history would involve Loco Abreu scoring … in all those years earlier this decade when I watched him score in the Mexican League, I never thought of him as someone with a World Cup match at his feet.

The post-match celebrations were balanced by the wrenching shots of Gyan. If Suárez seemed destroyed, Gyan was at another level. He’s a fine player, and he’s only 24 … he’ll be a fine player for a long time to come. Right now, though, he reminds us of how much is at stake for these players. He doesn’t deserve to suffer.

netherlands-brazil

Yesterday, I quoted Zonal Marking noting that this match looked to be fascinating in tactical terms, but might lack for entertainment value. I await the tactical analysis of today’s match, but there was certainly no lack of entertainment. Brazil was their usual dominant self in the first half, leading up to what was, if not the play of the game, then certainly the play without which nothing that followed would be the same. In the 31st minute, Kaká found an opening in front of the net and curled a shot towards the top corner of the goal. Maarten Stekelenburg made a diving save to prevent Brazil from going up, 2-0.

What happened in the second half was startling to most fans. What struck me was the way Brazil lost the plot. For so long, we’ve heard how the Dutch don’t get along, that they are their own worst enemies, and that this is a big reason why they fail on the biggest stages. This time around, it was the Brazilians who fell apart. I don’t fault Felipe Melo for the own goal … it belonged to Sneijder, no matter what the stat sheet says. Efan Ekoku blamed Júlio César. To state the obvious, no matter who was at fault or who should get credit, the equalizer changed things. Fifteen minutes later, Sneijder finally got proper credit … from a header, no less! … but even then, it was still a one-goal match with more than 20 minutes to play. But not five minutes later, the Brazilian meltdown that we’d expected from the Dutch hit a new low. Felipe Melo might have been unlucky on the own goal, but he made his own luck when he stomped on Arjen Robben and was sent off.

It’s a sign of Brazil’s reputation that you still thought they’d find a way. But it wasn’t going to happen. The underachievers came out on top, which hopefully will give Spain a bit of extra confidence. Anything can happen, but with the Dutch facing either Uruguay or Ghana in the semis, it’s a good bet we’ll be seeing the Netherlands in the final, where their opponent will probably be one of Spain, Argentina, or Germany. On paper, before everything is set in stone, it looks to be a mouth-watering final.

more fascinating than ever

In an interesting preview of Holland-Brazil, Zonal Marking says something that lays down the different ways of viewing a match better than I ever could: “[I]n pure entertainment terms for the neutral, it might not be an all-time classic, but in tactical terms it should be more fascinating than ever.”

Both Zonal Marking and Jonathan Wilson have excellent previews up now, which you should check out. ZM’s Holland-Brazil preview is linked to above; Argentina-Germany is here. Wilson on that match here, and on the Netherlands-Brazil here.

beavis and butthead peruse the rosters (heh heh, he said dong)

Here we go. I don’t know if it’s possible for me to be stupider than I am here. A few of these are poetry … a few (Germany, USA and Australia) demonstrate the great variety of people, or at least names, from those countries. Mostly, though, this is me making fun of stuff I don’t understand. So accept in advance that I know how odd a name like Steven Rubio might appear to someone from another country.

The 2010 All-Name Team:

South Africa: Siphiwe Tshabalala, Surprise Moriri

Mexico: Conejo (Rabbit), Chicharito (Little Pea), Bofo (Bofo) and Cuauhtémoc Blanco

France: Jérémy Toulalan

Nigeria: Danny Shittu

South Korea: Lee Dong-Gook

England: Peter Crouch (6’7” … I never get tired of this one)

Germany: Sami Khedira, Mesut Özil, Cacau, Hans-Jörg Butt, Bastian Schweinsteiger, Mario Gomez

USA: Carlos Bocanegra, Oguchi Onyewu, Herculez Gomez, Jonathan Bornstein, José Torres, Maurice Edu, Benny Feilhaber, Marcus Hahnemann

Australia: Nikita Rukavytsya, Mile Jedinak, Eugene Galeković, Dario Vidošić, Mark Bresciano

Netherlands: Rafael van der Vaart

Cameroon: Rigobert and Alex Song, Sébastien Bassong, Gaetan Bong

Brazil: Kaká

North Korea: Pak Nam-Chol, Pak Nam-Chol

Ivory Coast: Côte d'Ivoire

Switzerland: Tranquillo Barnetta

Honduras: Georgie Welcome

Too bad Nigeria and Brazil never met. Would have been fun to see Kaká vs. Shittu. I guess we’ll have to wait and see if Germany and the Netherlands meet, which would be the next best thing (Butt vs. van der Vaart).

more on quality in the world cup

Gabriele Marcotti at SI makes a good case for a commonly stated but rarely remembered thing about the World Cup: that the play is a notch below what you see at the highest club levels:

[T]he teams we watch in the latter stages of the Champions' League and at the highest levels particularly in La Liga and the Premier League, are better and generally play better soccer. Why? Well, first of all, they've been assembled with a plan, not thrown together by accidents of birth. If Brazil was a club team, you can probably bet that either Maicon or Dani Alves would be sold and another player -- perhaps a central midfielder, perhaps a striker -- would be bought with the proceeds. You don't need the two best rightbacks in the world on the same team, because, unless you play one out of position, on will sit on the bench, contributing nothing….

[C]lubs sides aren't just better assembled: they tend to execute better. And it's no mystery why. They train together just about every day for 11 months out of the year. That gives a coach plenty of time to work on tactics and schemes, the types of things that give a side an identity. And, incidentally, a corollary to this and the point above is that club sides can buy players who fit into a ready made system….

[D]oes it mean the World Cup isn't worth watching? Obviously not. It's worth watching in the same way that the NCAA tournament is worth watching. It may not be as qualitatively good as the NBA, but it's fun, it's exciting, it's a representation of both regional pride and local talent. The World Cup has never actually been about sheer quality (also because sheer quality can equal frustratingly dull soccer). It has been -- and is -- about soccer cultures battling it out. And that's what makes it special.

manager’s game

Well, here goes nothin’ …

Overall, I’ve found this World Cup more enjoyable than the 2006 version. The first games of the group stage weren’t much, but things have picked up since then. There haven’t been as many goals this time as in previous Cups, but there have been more as the tournament progresses.

I’ve tried at various times to explain what distinguishes matches I like from matches I don’t. It mostly comes down to a preference for the sensational. My tastes are alarmingly basic. It’s like punk rock … when it came along in the mid-70s, one reason people like me loved it was that it burst the pretensions of prog rock. We didn’t care if Emerson, Lake & Palmer were good musicians; three chords and a wall of noise was good enough. Similarly, while I have been enlightened by the ever-increasing and valuable analysis of the game that is available to us now, I look to that mostly after the fact. While the match is being played, I just want to have fun.

But part of the problem, I think, is that we are trying to come up with a single version of the “good match,” when there are different versions (and, it should go without saying, the notion of a “good match” is extremely subjective in any case). The two basic categories are those which involve neutral observers, and those involving observers with a clear interest in one team (either as a fan, or as a manager). For the latter, I’d like to turn to a game called Football Manager.

This game has been a huge success in the U.K., going back to 1992 when it was known as Championship Manager. And people like me can testify to its cult popularity in the States, as well. It is a soccer management simulation, where you take charge of a club and bring them success. The detail in the game is mind-boggling … as a manager, you have to deal with squad selection, the transfer market, tactics, grumpy board members, the press, fans, the weather, finances, keeping everyone happy … you get the idea. Success in the game is marked by how well your club performs. If you win your league, get promotion, win international competitions, beat your arch rivals, then you are “winning” the game. If you lose games, fall into relegation, put your club in financial jeopardy, piss off your fans, then you are “losing” the game.

So, when I play FM, my goal is 1) to not get fired, and 2) to win games/cups/leagues, and 3) to get offered jobs with bigger clubs. Of these, #2 is the one that drives everything else, which is to say, I must win if I am to succeed, which is obvious, I realize.

My approach, therefore, is single-minded, and oriented towards the bottom line. I want to win. FM does have a fan component, but it is fairly simple compared to the more complex aspects of the game. The fans are happy when their team wins … they have certain players they like, and they always enjoy beating their rivals, but ultimately, they are happy as long as your team wins.

The point is that when I play FM, I am not interested in aesthetics. If I win ten 1-0 games in a row, I’ve done my job. And if that 1-0 score is due to my brilliant tactics, I’m even excited!

To return to real life, this approach is generally taken by managers of real soccer teams. Their job is to win, not to entertain, although doing both is appreciated. The job security of a manager is directly correlated to performance on the field, and by performance I don’t mean “the beautiful game,” I mean winning games.

When I am a fan of a team, say the San Jose Earthquakes or the U.S. national teams, I share the desires of the manager. All that matters is that my team wins. Nothing makes me happier than seeing my team win 6-0, but really, what I want to see is a victory, no matter how it is achieved, no matter the aesthetic value of the performance.

Taking all of the above into consideration, we can safely say that the players and fans of Paraguay are happy right now, as is their manager, because they are still in the World Cup. That they advanced via a dreary, scoreless affair is irrelevant to them.

However …

Once you get past the fans and players and coaching staff of Paraguay, once you take the neutral fan into account, things change. Take me, for instance. I have a rooting interest in the USA … I have a lesser one for Spain, and a rather confusing but real one with Mexico. Of the 56 matches played thus far in the 2010 World Cup, 12 have featured one of those three teams, which means I’ve been neutral for 44 matches (actually a bit fewer, since there were a couple of occasions where a “neutral” match affected the standings of a favored team). I’ve been neutral for a large majority of the matches. And when I’m neutral, when I don’t care who wins, then what exactly am I looking for as I watch?

In my case, I’m looking for offense: goals, goal opportunities, dazzling play. I’m looking for Messi, not for Gattuso. I want to see the intricate interactive skills of the Brazilian and Spanish teams, I want to see superbly-taken free kicks, I want to see teams that are trying to score, not teams that are trying to prevent the other team from scoring or teams that are afraid to make a mistake.

And this is where the problem lies. Because if I am neutral and you are not, we are looking for different things. I care about little beyond aesthetics; you care about nothing other than the proper result.

I understand this. When I’m playing Football Manager, where “fans” are reduced to “people who want you to win,” I am all about the result. When I’m watching a real-life match, where neutral fans matter, neutral fans who are less interested in who won than in how they won it … well, real life doesn’t match Football Manager then. But, to return to fandom, if I have a rooting interest, then again, it’s about the result. There isn’t one way to watch a match, not all fans approach a match with the same desires, and most of us have different desires depending on the match being played.

Ah, but then there’s the matter of subjectivity. I can only speak for myself … when I say I prefer offense to defense, prefer something happening to something being prevented from happening, that’s just me talking. You might have different desires, even when you are neutral.

Finally, one thing I’ve really enjoyed during this World Cup is reading the post-mortems of astute tactical analysts who can explain what just happened and point out what I missed. It’s illuminating, invaluable, and deepens my understanding of the game. Having said that, my favorite World Cup moment has been Donovan’s goal against Algeria, not Zonal Marking’s canny breakdown of Paraguay-Japan. I can only repeat what I thought I said in the comments section earlier (I can’t find it now, so this is a paraphrase): I’d rather have an orgasm than read about why I didn’t get off.

(I suppose I should explain the title of this post. Early on, when referees seemed to be deciding every other match, someone said that soccer had become a “referee’s game.” No, I thought … it’s a manager’s game. It’s no longer enough to just throw the 11 best players on the field … you need to give them a plan. I’ve long felt this was a bad thing, that coaches are better at devising strategies for preventing excellence from the opposition than they are at creating positive attacking soccer, that brilliant individual talent is less valued now because it operates outside the coach’s influence and thus must be reined in. But I’m not completely accurate. Some coaches do think in attacking terms, and some tactics have emerged as standard which are about offense more than defense. Think of attacking fullbacks … under my description of managing, fullbacks need to stay back on the defensive line, but nowadays, players like Maicon are as much attackers as defenders. Coaching continues to evolve, and not always in a negative direction.)

two days off

What will we do with ourselves during this mini-break? I’ve got tomorrow covered … Neal and I are going to the Giants-Dodgers game. Thursday? Don’t tell me I have to return to real life already!

56 matches down, 8 to go. Friday it’s Netherlands-Brazil and Uruguay-Ghana; Saturday we get Argentina-Germany and Paraguay-Spain. My bracket … I’ve not done many of these, all I’ve really noticed is once you get something wrong in the first round, you’re screwed. I am in 58,564th place on ESPN. It says I’m 94.2% … not sure what that means. Whatever … I’ve gotten two of the quarterfinal matches right, Argentina-Germany and Netherlands-Brazil. I’ve also gotten Spain right. So I can make three predictions based on what I thought a few weeks ago, that Argentina, Brazil and Spain will advance.

I’ve got a couple of posts I’ve been working on, including the highly-anticipated “Let’s Make Fun of People’s Names” entry. I’m saving them for the off-days.

spain-portugal

What to say? I had a rooting interest, so I was excited. I loved the final score. Portugal has a great defense … it was great today, and the contrast in styles between the two teams added interest. Portuguese keeper Eduardo may have been the man of the match, but for that one beautiful goal, when Spain’s passing finally found a way to squeeze through Portugal’s seemingly airtight defense. Ah, that passing … at one point, they looked like they did against Chile at the end of their match, except Portugal was trying … yet still the Spaniards kept possession.

What I’m looking forward to reading in the tactical analysis: how was Ronaldo stopped? Some combination of Spanish and Portuguese tactics resulted in Ronaldo being invisible for most of the match.

when all else fails, call on the experts

Jonathan Wilson on Paraguay-Japan:

The millions celebrating in Paraguay won't care, but its penalty shootout victory over Japan came after probably the worst game of the World Cup so far. There was much talk of fear, of the sense of occasion becoming too much for two sides who had never before reached the quarterfinal, and maybe there was an element of truth to that, but neither of these sides is naturally creative, and the result was tedium. Paraguay at least took some sort of initiative, and from that point of view probably deserved its victory, but let's not pretend this was anything other than deeply disappointing….

This wasn't quite as bad as Ukraine's goalless draw with Switzerland at the same stage last year, but it was close.

For what it’s worth, I think that last sentence is a bit extreme.

paraguay-japan

A few thoughts from early in the second half …

• Chilavert is doing the color commentary. I don’t recall him doing any other Paraguay matches. I’m reminded that I have a soft spot in my heart for Paraguay, even though their emphasis on defense seems to go against my own preferences. That soft spot is due to the great Chila, who was so charismatic, and who happened to be a goalkeeper. The residual fondness I feel for Paraguay is all Chilavert … without that, I’d complain about them all the time.
• When the second half started, the Univision picture was frozen (at least at my house). I didn’t notice for five minutes. (That last sentence was a joke.)
• Chris Jones, on the ESPN Gamecast: “The first-half match report is hilarious. They just handed out sheets up paper that are totally blank.”

The second half was a bit better, although the Gamecast was more interesting than the match (they talked about Underoos and other apparel from the past, and snack food … Cheez-Its, Hot Pockets, Big League Chew). Still, at the end of regulation time, the stats showed that there had been twice as many fouls as shots, and that each side had only managed to be called for offside once. As one person commented on Gamecast, “Shockwave player just crashed due to inactivity.”

Penalties. They are unfair. But these teams were never going to score. They don’t deserve the built-in excitement of the penalties.

And yet …

There’s a great conversation going on the comments section of my Brazil-Chile post. One point I’ve made is that your enjoyment varies depending on your rooting interest. I dare say a neutral would have found this match boring. Fans of Japan and Paraguay might have seen it differently. One person who most certainly saw it differently was José Luis Chilavert. His commentary during the match was relatively balanced … obviously, he knew more about the South American side, but he did his job well, as he has throughout the Cup. But when penalties arrived, Chila’s true spirit came out. He spoke emotionally on how proud he was of the Paraguayan team. He spoke to all of the team’s fans, noting that the entire country could join in the pride in the team’s accomplishments. And when the penalties began, he was less announcer than fan-with-microphone. When Cardozo stepped up for the winning kick, Chilavert was shouting, “¡Vámos Paraguay!” and “¡Vámos Cardozo, vámos!” And as the ball slammed into the net, he cried “¡Gol!” With his emotions, he sucked me in … I was a fan, right along with him, and I wanted Paraguay to win, enough so that I didn’t care any longer about how poor the match had been as a whole. I have expectations as a neutral fan … my expectations are different when I care. Chilavert made me care. I have no idea if he was being “professional,” but his passion made a dreary match into something I can remember with fondness.

scared

I think I’ve come up with something regarding defense in soccer. A smartly-planned defensive tactic has its own beauty … I might not always spot it, but when I do, it’s nice. It’s not really defense that bugs me … it’s the tactics that are designed, not to stop the other team, but more to keep from making mistakes. It’s not defensive soccer, it’s scared soccer.

Similarly, some folks didn’t care for Chile’s performance against Brazil. It wasn’t attacking soccer, it was just running around in the absence of anything better to do. Makes sense to me, much as I enjoyed that match.

tuesday's matches

Quick predictions:

Paraguay 1-0 over Japan

Spain 1-0 over Portugal after extra time

brazil-chile

In many ways, this was my favorite match of the tournament so far.

To get Brazil out of the way … and it’s almost cruel to do so, they were so good today … all three of their goals were good ones, especially the second, their defense was strong, they looked unbeatable, not just in this match, but in any subsequent matches. They were tremendous.

But I want to talk about Chile, and their manager, Marcelo “Loco” Bielsa. Chile have been one of the most entertaining teams in this Cup … you never knew what they’d do next, except that it would involve the attempt to score goals. This was an OK strategy against Honduras or Switzerland … it’s a bit ambitious when playing the co-favorites, Spain and Brazil, which is the task the schedule handed the Chileans.

Today’s match started, and Chile went on the attack. Brazil was playing well, but seemed a bit taken aback by the fury of the Chileans. But then Brazil scored off a corner, and while 1-0 wasn’t the end of the road for Chile, Luis Fabiano’s goal four minutes later was effectively the end of the match. Robinho’s second-half goal changed the final score, but it was already decided.

How did Chile respond?

Last summer, I had a post from Nerja describing the people who walked in town:

Many of the native walkers are old folks, viejos and viejas who have probably made that same walk thousands of times….Some of them need a cane ... but they're still walking. One woman last night had a special shoe for her club foot, plus she needed a cane ... but she's still walking. Some people have a pair of crutches ... but they're still walking. Need a wheelchair to get around? Have someone push you, because no matter that you can't walk ... you're still walking.

I thought about those people as I watched Chile against Brazil. The whistle blew to begin the match, and Chile attacked. Juan scored off a header to give Brazil the lead, and Chile still attacked. Luis Fabiano iced the cake, and Chile still attacked. The second half began, and Chile still attacked. Robinho made it 3-0, and Chile still attacked. The 4th official held up the sign telling us there would be two minutes of added time, and Chile still attacked.

It was remarkable.

When the match finally ended, the Chilean players slumped to the ground, many of them in tears. Loco Bielsa sat on the bench, grumpy, pissed off, looking like he was still trying to figure out how to get Chile to score. It was like they’d just experienced the Kirk Gibson World Series walk-off homer against Eck and the A’s … the result of the match hadn’t been in question for some time, yet Chile seemed to think that if they’d just had a couple of more minutes of extra time, they’d get the three goals and send the match into overtime.

The U.S. was praised, rightly so, for their never-say-die spirit as they kept falling behind and fighting back. But they had nothing on this Chilean side.

And yet, it must be said … you can’t play this way against Brazil and expect to win. For all their efforts, Chile only scored three goals in four matches, never more than one in a game. A bottom-line mentality would demand that we face facts: Chile did not get past the round of 16, beat two lesser teams by minimal 1-0 scores, and couldn’t come close to winning against the best teams.

In a couple of days, when there’s a break in the Cup, I have a post I’ve been working on. It occurs to me that the Brazil-Chile match is a good example of what I’m trying to say there, so I’ll leave this one for now.

netherlands-slovakia

A great example of how my “rules for a good match” are flaky at best. The final score fulfills the requirements, 2-1 being the most common of “my” scores. But Slovakia’s goal was pointless (I do think it was a penalty, just that it was anti-climactic), and the Netherlands’ performance was far more workmanlike than dazzling. I’m a big fan of Dirk Kuyt, but he’s not the most spectacular Dutch player … he is best known for his desire and willingness to give full effort for 90 minutes. Arjen Robben’s opening goal was marvelous, and hinted at a delightful blowout of the Slovakians. But after that, the Dutch seemed satisfied to protect their lead against a team that, outside of their shock win over Italy, showed little. It seemed appropriate that Snejder’s late goal was setup by standard Kuyt hustle … the victory resembled Kuyt a lot more than it resembled Snejder (to say nothing of Cruyff or Van Basten etc.).

Since this blog is devoted as much to my personal take as to anything else, I’ll toss in a couple of things that were particular to me. First, I finally decided to find out if “Holland” and “Netherlands” were the same thing, and if not, what were they. (Saying “Holland” and meaning “Netherlands” turns out to be like saying “England” and meaning “United Kingdom,” or “Hollywood” and meaning “United States.” OK, I kinda made that last one up, it’s not an exact match.)

I learned this via Wikipedia. I had a couple of spare minutes because, with 8 minutes left in the match, I realized that I really couldn’t wait for the match to end before I used the bathroom. So, even though I’d gotten up early to watch the match live, I reluctantly pressed the pause button and ran downstairs … and while I was busy, I accessed Wikipedia on my Pre.

I didn’t expect to miss much … after Robben’s goal, very little of consequence had happened in the match. When I returned, I pressed play … and found that, in my haste, I had pressed pause just as Kuyt was making the run that led to the second goal. So the play was well underway when I got back to watching, and … well, most soccer fans who attend live matches know the curse of the home team scoring while you’re in the rest room taking a leak. This was something of a DVR version of that.

Ultimately, it says something about this match that my best anecdotes involve Wikipedia, the bathroom, and the DVR. Robben’s goal was lovely, at least.

tomorrow’s matches

Netherlands-Slovakia. The Dutch should have no problem winning this one. The problem is, they have a long history of losing important matches they should have won. So put me down for a win for Holland, but don’t say I didn’t warn you about history.

Brazil-Chile. The Brazilians should have no problem winning this one. There is no problem … Chile has been an entertaining side so far, and it’s too bad we won’t see them again after tomorrow. But Brazil is too much for them on a normal day, and the Chileans will be missing three players to suspension.

argentina-mexico

Yet another bad call by a referee, but really, it didn’t matter. Mexico didn’t look awful, outside of Osorio’s blunder, but that just speaks to how good Argentina is playing. When Germany dismantled England, it seemed half German greatness and half English awfulness. In this match, it was more like 10% Mexican fuck ups, 90% damn is Argentina good. Argentina-Germany promises to be a great matchup, enough so that I can’t say I’m too sorry Mexico is out.

germany-england

I was wrong, it wasn’t close. Klose, maybe. Charlie kept saying the Germans were playing like Brazil. He didn’t mention that England was playing like Crewe Alexandra. As in 2006, the Germans are a delight to watch. England … well, I don’t need to say anything negative, they’ll take care of that themselves. The match was entertaining once England got their goal, and the goal-that-wasn’t added to the excitement … the second half looked to be great. And it was, for Germany. England? They scored one more goal against the Germans than Australia did.

tomorrow’s matches

It should be a great pair of matches tomorrow, after a day of very good ones. You never know, of course, but Germany-England and Argentina-Mexico offer high expectations. I’d just as soon Germany win the first match, and I’ll be rooting for Mexico in the second, but mostly I just want to see some good soccer. My predictions are for Germany and Argentina to triumph … Mexico will give a better showing than people expect, but will fall short. England is certainly capable of beating the Germans … it should be close.

usa-ghana

Well, I guess I have to say a few words.

It was a very good match. It was also a very even match, although Ghana certainly deserved their victory. The American defense was shaky at times, and the insertion of Clark and Findley into the starting lineup must be considered a failure, given that Clark was partly responsible for Ghana’s first goal, and both players were substituted early.

The U.S. did well … they had a good tournament. They’ll feel that they could have continued on, and that’s true, but they didn’t overwhelm Ghana … they didn’t overwhelm anyone. All four of their matches were exciting, and that’s something. Beyond that, I have nothing to offer.

uruguay-south korea

A fine opener to the knockouts!

The Koreans looked shaky on defense at the beginning, and quickly fell behind. Uruguay, to my eye, has demonstrated a solid blend of offense and defense … they try to score, but their defense is strong. So, after they took the lead, they worked at stopping the Koreans.

South Korea’s offense often seemed more energetic than effective, and early in the second half, they didn’t even have much verve. The equalizer, though, enlivened both teams, and, thus, the match. At that point, we had two goals that depended on poor goalkeeping. So it was nice that the second goal by Luis Suárez was so beautifully taken … one of the best goals of the tournament.

The Koreans had their chances in the final minutes, but to be honest, didn’t look like they would take advantage of them. Uruguay deserved the win, and will be a tough opponent for either the U.S. or Ghana.

One other thing. It seems a bit picky, but the grass looked rather poor. It only got worse with the rain. I’d expect better at a World Cup.

first knockout round

On paper, several matches look great: Germany-England, Argentina-Mexico, Brazil-Chile, Spain-Portugal. And I’ll have my eye on USA-Ghana, of course.

For tomorrow’s matches, I’ll take South Korea over Uruguay, and the USA over Ghana. I’m not confident about either of those picks. Uruguay in particular looks good.

five best matches of group stage

June 17: Argentina 4-1 South Korea. Higuaín’s hat trick. The game was closer than the score indicates … it was still 2-1 with 15 minutes to go. But the score also reflected Argentina’s dominance. A delightful performance.

June 18: Slovenia 2-2 United States. Even without being provincial, I could include any of the Americans’ matches. But, while tipping my cap to the wonder that was Donovan’s goal against Algeria, this was the best match. Slovenia dominated the first half, the USA took over for the second, a controversial call by the ref offered talking points.

June 19: Cameroon 1-2 Denmark. This match eliminated the Africans, while the Danes thought they played poorly despite their win. But the combination of attacking desire and incompetent play made this a roller coaster of a match, even if no one but me liked it.

June 22: Nigeria 2-2 South Korea. Both teams playing for their lives. Nigeria scored early, the Koreans equalized just before half time and took the lead early in the second half. A penalty made it 2-2 with 20 minutes to go. There were 27 shots in the match, 12 of them on goal.

June 24: Slovakia 3-2 Italy. Vittek put Slovakia up 2-0 in the 73rd minute against the listless Italians. Finally, the Azzurri woke up. Di Natale made it 2-1, but then Slovakia scored a clincher with a minute to go, leaving Fabio Quagliarella to score the prettiest insignificant goal of the tournament:

switzerland

Switzerland is not a powerhouse of international soccer. They’ve qualified for the World Cup in fewer than half of the tournaments. They have little success in the European championships. So you might expect them to concentrate on defense, hoping to narrow the gap when playing better teams.

And, in fact, their record in the last two World Cups is truly remarkable. In 2006, the Swiss did not allow a single goal. They were eliminated in one of the worst matches in recent Cup history, when the Swiss and Ukraine were unable to score for 120 minutes, after which Switzerland missed every single penalty kick. Final tally: zero goals allowed, out after the round of 16.

This year was more of the same. The Swiss only allowed one goal in three matches. Unfortunately, they only scored one goal, and they are going home.

Someone remind me why defensive tactics are useful for lesser teams.

group h, second half/final, etc.

47th minute: Well, fuck.

If my Spanish served me well (always debatable), the play-by-play guy just sent a shoutout to all the Chile fans in the audience, after which, Chilavert added “don’t forget the Spain fans, they’ve suffered a long time.”

 

And that’s that. Chile gave it a go for awhile, playing as if 10 men were enough. But gradually their midfielders tired out, and as it became clear that Switzerland wasn’t going to score another goal until the year 2074, both teams accepted their fate. The last fifteen minutes were pure torture, as Spain passed the ball amongst themselves. For 60 minutes or so, this was a fine match.

And it sets up a couple of mouthwatering matches in the next round: Brazil-Chile and Spain-Portugal.

group h

Start: Chile/Spain/Switzerland/Honduras. Things are close enough that no one is assured for advancing or going home, but if Spain beats Chile, they’re in. If it’s a draw, Chile is in, and the Switzerland-Honduras match affects Spain’s chances. I picked Spain to win it all. Chile is one of the most entertaining teams at the tournament so far. This should be a great match, although the only thing that will make it great for me is if Spain wins. Uh oh … Chiquidracula is the man in the middle.

Extremely weird seeing Spain in blue and their opponent in red.

24th minute. Words fail me. 1-0, Spain.

37th minute. Iniesta scores, Dracula sends off a Chilean player, Spain is advancing!

Terrific first half, although with Chile shorthanded, their ability to get back into the match is questionable. Will be bad for aesthetics, but Spain fans don’t care.

1. Spain 6 (+3)
2. Chile 6 (0)
3. Switzerland 4 (0)
4. Honduras 1 (-3)

group g

Well, I watched the wrong match, but it barely mattered. Portugal-Brazil is a fine matchup on paper, and if they meet again in the Cup, it might be a fine matchup on the field. But with Group G all but decided, this one was a snoozefest, perhaps best described by commenter “Chris” on the ESPN Gamecast … after Jeff Bradley noted he had eaten a second muffin, Chris responded, “If the muffins were bran you'll have more movement than the second half of this game.”

Meanwhile, the Ivory Coast scored some nice goals, and now they’ll go home. You can’t really say they lost it … more accurate to say that Portugal won it. After the two had their scoreless draw, the Ivorians lost to Brazil and scored three against the Koreans … not all that bad, really … but the Portuguese drew with Brazil and scored seven against the Koreans. Ultimately, those goals against North Korea were what made this pair of matches so lacking in drama.

tomorrow

Quickly, because I need to go to bed … the last day of the group stage.

Group G gets the early start. Brazil is through, and Portugal are almost there … that’s the match to watch, while the other match is for folks who want to say goodbye to Didier Drogba.

Group H … Chile-Spain is the big match at my house, and it should be at your house, too. It has the makings of a classic. Spain has a goal-differential lead over the Swiss, so the latter need to win and score big against Honduras, or hope Spain loses. The Swiss are not known for their offense.