Germany 3 Mueller 18, Jansen 56, Khedira 82
Uruguay 2 Cavani 28, Forlan 51
For some reason these playoff games are always right little crackers, and this one was no exception. If Holland had lost their semifinal, you have to wonder whether they'd have made a better show of things here than they did in the final.
Mueller got us under way in the eighteenth minute, the first to get to a Schweinsteiger shot after Muslera spilled it. If you're going to spill it, you spill it sideways. He's a bit rubbish, is Muslera.
The next fatal error was Schweinsteiger's. He got caught in midfield by Perez, and the ball came through to Cavani via the much, and highly justly, maligned Suarez. His shot beat Butt, as it were, and Uruguay were level.
Just after the break they went ahead through Forlan. His volley was hit hard, and so accurately it had time to bounce on the way to the goal, and still gave the keeper no chance. For a time, it almost seemed as if they might hang on. It would have been an unlikely result though, and again it was the keeper that threw it away.
Boateng put in a high cross which Muslera jumped for. He got there first and had the chance to punch clear, but just entirely missed the ball, not unlike Cesar for Brazil against Holland, and Jansen was able to head into an empty net. If he'd stayed on his line he'd still have been criticised for not coming for it, but at least he'd have had a chance to make the save. As things stood the ball was in the net before he hit the ground.
It was still two all, and extra time would have been fine with all of us, but Khedira took that away, connecting meaningfully with an Ozil corner after the entire Uruguay defence had tried to do the same, without success. Forlan hit the bar with a free kick in the last minute of extra time, which would have given him the Golden Boot and us extra time, but it bounced over rather than in. Three two then.
The Golden Boot, by the way, is the award for the player who scores the most goals in the tournament. Gary Lineker won it once, you know. This year, Mueller, Forlan, Villa of Spain and Sjneider of Holland all tied, with 5 goals each. Mueller got the title for having an assist as well, while Villa was second, Sjneider third and Forlan fourth on the number of minutes they played.
Forlan did get the Golden Ball, for the best player of the tournament. Dunno 'bout that.
So Germany go home third, with four wins and two losses. They scored sixteen goals, twice as many as the winners and more than anyone else, and conceded just five. I think they'd have taken it at the beginning. Uruguay have had their best tournament since 1970, yet also somehow their worst.
Next, the final.
Sunday, 11 July 2010
Saturday, 10 July 2010
Spain v Germany
Spain 1 Puyol 73
Germany 0
No time for a proper report on this one, I'm afraid, as I've been back at work, and doing overtime.
Just a quick summary then. The first half was a bit dull, with Spain dominating but not breaking through. Germany seemed to be playing on the defensive, a tactic which doesn't seem to be working against Spain since Switzerland blagged a win with it in the first game. To counter, the Spanish just did their usual thing of wearing down the opposition. It took 63 minutes against Portugal, 82 against Paraguay and 73 here. Let's hope the Dutch come up with something new.
Germany's defeat means a new name on the trophy, as neither Holland nor Spain have won before. One of them will become the eighth winner, following Uruguay, Italy, Germany, Brazil, England, Argentina and France.
If Spain win, it will be Holland's first defeat of the tournament. All teams in the World Cup will have been beaten at least once, with one exception. Guess who?
New Zealand of course. They finished third in Group F, so never made it into the knockout phase, but did so with three draws, against Slovakia, Italy and Paraguay. You'd have to reckon that as the achievement of the tournament.
I'm rooting for Holland, though. You may be recall me tipping them to go far earlier on. I've never had someone I tipped actually win before, and the lure of it is irresistible.
Next, the third place play off between Germany and Uruguay.
Germany 0
No time for a proper report on this one, I'm afraid, as I've been back at work, and doing overtime.
Just a quick summary then. The first half was a bit dull, with Spain dominating but not breaking through. Germany seemed to be playing on the defensive, a tactic which doesn't seem to be working against Spain since Switzerland blagged a win with it in the first game. To counter, the Spanish just did their usual thing of wearing down the opposition. It took 63 minutes against Portugal, 82 against Paraguay and 73 here. Let's hope the Dutch come up with something new.
Germany's defeat means a new name on the trophy, as neither Holland nor Spain have won before. One of them will become the eighth winner, following Uruguay, Italy, Germany, Brazil, England, Argentina and France.
If Spain win, it will be Holland's first defeat of the tournament. All teams in the World Cup will have been beaten at least once, with one exception. Guess who?
New Zealand of course. They finished third in Group F, so never made it into the knockout phase, but did so with three draws, against Slovakia, Italy and Paraguay. You'd have to reckon that as the achievement of the tournament.
I'm rooting for Holland, though. You may be recall me tipping them to go far earlier on. I've never had someone I tipped actually win before, and the lure of it is irresistible.
Next, the third place play off between Germany and Uruguay.
Tuesday, 6 July 2010
Holland v Uruguay
Holland 3 Van Bronckhorst 18, Sjneider 70, Robben 73
Uruguay 2 Forlan 41, Pereira 90 + 2
For many people, the most memorable thing about Uruguay until the Ghana game was the Homer Simpson scene. You remember, the one where he spins a globe and says Hey, look, there's a country called U R Gay!
The Homer erotic Uruguay may now have been superseded in the popular imagination by the Uruguay of cheating Suarez, but they were still in a semifinal of the World Cup. The last time England did that was twenty years ago. And at the end they were one decent strike away from taking Holland to extra time.
The first half was unremarkable except for the goals, both of which came out of the blue. For Holland's opener, Van Bronckhorst hit a shot from 40 yards for no good reason. I just had time to think oh you twat for wasting the opportunity before it sailed past the keeper and into the back of the net. Oh well, shows what I know.
Forlan clearly felt he wanted to leave us with something to remember him by as well. He got onto a loose pass just before the break, feinted right, went left, got a yard or two of space and hit it. Stekelenberg got a hand on it, and really ought to have kept it out, but didn't. One one at half time.
For the first twenty minutes of the second half, the favourites looked vulnerable. They couldn't string passes together, their first touches let them down, the obvious ball eluded them. At times they seemed to playing a game of their own invention called Ever Decreasing Circles, in which each player spins through 180 degrees then plays a shorter ball than the one before, ignoring both the blue shirts swarming into his path and the orange ones begging for the ball out by the touchline.
Suddenly, like great teams do, they got it together. Their first proper chance in an age fell to Van Der Vaart, after the hitherto anonymous Van Persie had collected a long ball on the edge of the box and put him in. Muslera saved his shot well, but it ran kindly for Robben. With everyone holding their breath Robben shot wildly over, but it felt like a momentum shift was underway.
Five minutes later they scored, perhaps a little controversially. Sjneider's shot deflected slightly off the leg of Maxi Pereira, and went under Van Persie's legs and in. He was (just) offside when the shot was taken, and was clearly interfering with play even though he never actually touched it, so it shouldn't really have been allowed. No-one who saw the end of the Ghana game cared about that though.
And there was nothing controversial about the third. It was straightforward enough, but brilliantly executed. A Kuyt cross came to Robben in the box, just slightly behind him, and he leaned back just enough to get his head into the right position to angle the ball in off the far post. If the cross had come to him more easily, the defender could have got in a challenge, but as things were it was unplayable.
The game seemed dead from that point, with twenty minutes left. Tabarez took Alvaro Pereira off, replacing him with Abreu. Then he swapped Forlan for Fernandez, a strange decision which seemed like the height of folly when they got a free kick in injury time, in a position which Forlan would normally have shot from.
But Gargano didn't strike for goal. He played a surprise short ball to Maxi Pereira, who shot under the blocking defenders' legs, past the keeper and in. Suddenly, for the last two minutes, it was game on.
Uruguay knocked a couple of crosses in, and one of them nearly broke to Arevalo, but as things turned out there was nothing doing. Van Bommel was booked for dissent, but at this stage that means nothing. Uruguay slink off home, there to work up a head steam over the Sjneider goal which will for ever annoy 2.5 million people while briefly amusing five billion, and Holland are in the final.
I'll type that again. Holland. Are. In. The. Final. Told you.
Uruguay 2 Forlan 41, Pereira 90 + 2
For many people, the most memorable thing about Uruguay until the Ghana game was the Homer Simpson scene. You remember, the one where he spins a globe and says Hey, look, there's a country called U R Gay!
The Homer erotic Uruguay may now have been superseded in the popular imagination by the Uruguay of cheating Suarez, but they were still in a semifinal of the World Cup. The last time England did that was twenty years ago. And at the end they were one decent strike away from taking Holland to extra time.
The first half was unremarkable except for the goals, both of which came out of the blue. For Holland's opener, Van Bronckhorst hit a shot from 40 yards for no good reason. I just had time to think oh you twat for wasting the opportunity before it sailed past the keeper and into the back of the net. Oh well, shows what I know.
Forlan clearly felt he wanted to leave us with something to remember him by as well. He got onto a loose pass just before the break, feinted right, went left, got a yard or two of space and hit it. Stekelenberg got a hand on it, and really ought to have kept it out, but didn't. One one at half time.
For the first twenty minutes of the second half, the favourites looked vulnerable. They couldn't string passes together, their first touches let them down, the obvious ball eluded them. At times they seemed to playing a game of their own invention called Ever Decreasing Circles, in which each player spins through 180 degrees then plays a shorter ball than the one before, ignoring both the blue shirts swarming into his path and the orange ones begging for the ball out by the touchline.
Suddenly, like great teams do, they got it together. Their first proper chance in an age fell to Van Der Vaart, after the hitherto anonymous Van Persie had collected a long ball on the edge of the box and put him in. Muslera saved his shot well, but it ran kindly for Robben. With everyone holding their breath Robben shot wildly over, but it felt like a momentum shift was underway.
Five minutes later they scored, perhaps a little controversially. Sjneider's shot deflected slightly off the leg of Maxi Pereira, and went under Van Persie's legs and in. He was (just) offside when the shot was taken, and was clearly interfering with play even though he never actually touched it, so it shouldn't really have been allowed. No-one who saw the end of the Ghana game cared about that though.
And there was nothing controversial about the third. It was straightforward enough, but brilliantly executed. A Kuyt cross came to Robben in the box, just slightly behind him, and he leaned back just enough to get his head into the right position to angle the ball in off the far post. If the cross had come to him more easily, the defender could have got in a challenge, but as things were it was unplayable.
The game seemed dead from that point, with twenty minutes left. Tabarez took Alvaro Pereira off, replacing him with Abreu. Then he swapped Forlan for Fernandez, a strange decision which seemed like the height of folly when they got a free kick in injury time, in a position which Forlan would normally have shot from.
But Gargano didn't strike for goal. He played a surprise short ball to Maxi Pereira, who shot under the blocking defenders' legs, past the keeper and in. Suddenly, for the last two minutes, it was game on.
Uruguay knocked a couple of crosses in, and one of them nearly broke to Arevalo, but as things turned out there was nothing doing. Van Bommel was booked for dissent, but at this stage that means nothing. Uruguay slink off home, there to work up a head steam over the Sjneider goal which will for ever annoy 2.5 million people while briefly amusing five billion, and Holland are in the final.
I'll type that again. Holland. Are. In. The. Final. Told you.
Monday, 5 July 2010
Quarter finals
Uruguay 1 - 1 Ghana aet (Uruguay 4 - 2 penalties)
Holland 2 - 1 Brazil
Germany 4 - 0 Argentina
Spain 1 - 0 Paraguay
Plans for coherent blogging of the quarter finals were rather scuppered on Friday night when my neighbour Sean knocked on my door and asked me if I fancied a beer at about 5:30. I did fancy a beer, then I fancied another one, then I realised the landlord was firing up the barbecue and they'd be showing the football when it came on in a couple of hours, and my evening plan seemed to emerge quite naturally from the circumstances.
Thus the late appearance of this post, you see. Saturday wasn't the most energised of days. And Sunday was my birthday. So I'm covering the quarter finals in this merged and truncated format.
It may have been the booze, but Uruguay v Ghana was one of the best games of the tournament. Two great goals, extra time and some spectacular cheating. What more could you possibly want?
Ghana got the first, on the stroke of halftime. Sulley Muntari got the ball about forty yards out, and just hit it. Most of the time when someone at this World Cup has done that with the Jabulani ball it's gone sailing well over the bar or halfway to the corner flag, Jabulani being the Xhosa word for flies through the air like Hansie Cronje's plane didn't. Muntari, though, managed to put all those failed efforts in context with one sweet shot, curling away from the unsighted Muslera and in.
Muntari having subverted the World Cup form for the long range shot, Forlan decided to do the same for the free kick. His effort cleared the wall and crashed in, wrong footing Kingson on the way. He'd made the classic keeper's error of moving just before the kick was taken, an understandable urge but one which so often leads to a goal when the attacker happens to choose the opposite side to the one the keeper expects.
As I said, it may have been the booze, but it was a great game. Everyone watching was perfectly happy when full time came, because it guaranteed us another half hour of drinking and watching. I can't give you a lot of detail, I'm afraid. I didn't take my notebook to the pub, and if I had it would mainly have said I fucking love football, it's the best game and people who don't like it are just cunts, rather than anything more coolly analytical, so you'll have to settle for a rather broader brushstroke than I normally use.
In fact I spent most of extra time talking to the woman stood next to me at the bar. Her boy has been signed up as an apprentice for Rovers, and she was worried that he might be corrupted by the superstar life style. I reassured her, and I can reassure you, that there's absolutely no question of the glamour of Bristol Rovers corrupting anyone. If there was a version of Big Brother shown on Dave, at three in the morning every other Wednesday, the people choosing the housemates would pose a greater threat to their young charges' sense of proportion. Parents up and down the land are despearate to reassure agents and talent scouts that rumours of their boy spending time as a Rovers apprentice are entirely unfounded.
No, I wasn't trying to chat her up. She had a husband in tow. I have to say, though, it's a little dispiriting to realise that someone can have a son old enough to be an apprentice and still be unattainably young from my point of view.
The killer moment in the game came right at the end of extra time. From a Ghana corner, Adiyiah's shot was blocked by Suarez on the line. It came back to him, he headed it where it came from, and Suarez blocked it again. This time, though, he used his arm. He was sent off, and Gyan took the penalty. If he'd scored from the penalty, there wouldn't have been penalties. Because his penalty hit the bar and went over, there had to be penalties. Clear?
He took the first Ghana penalty himself. He scored. Like Yakubu for Nigeria, you couldn't but admire his guts. Also like Yakubu for Nigeria, it didn't change a goddam thing. Mensah and Adiyiah missed, Uruguay won the shootout 4-2, and on they go.
As you may imagine, there's been no little discussion of this. Suarez, who misses the semifinal, didn't entirely helped matters by cheering Gyan's penalty miss as he walked off the pitch, and when he said his hand was now the new hand of God he achieved the remarkable feat of making himself unwelcome in Africa, England and Diego Maradonna's house all at the same time.
Even in those parts of the world Suarez could safely visit, there is a general sense that an injustice was done, and that a little humility on the part of Uruguay wouldn't go amiss. Ghana would have been the first African country to reach a World Cup semifinal had Suarez not deliberately handled the ball on the line. It has been said that keeping the ball out by any means is instinctive for a footballer, which is fair enough, but you really ought to eat some humble pie afterwards.
There also seems to be a strong argument for introducing a penalty goal, like the penalty try in rugby. Under this rule, if a player commits a blatant penalty offence in such a way that a definite goal is prevented, by handball, pushing an attacker over as he goes to tap a ball over the line, or whatever, then a goal should be given.
Uruguay now have to play the semifinal without Suarez, but apparently if they should win that game Suarez would be available for the final again. He could easily end up scoring the most unpopular World Cup final winning goal ever.
They play Holland, who beat Brazil in a thrilling game. A few days ago I said this
They haven't got Brazil next any more. They've got a semifinal against a Uruguay side who have lost their best striker.
It was Brazil's own fault, they threw it away quite casually. They started so well, with Robinho scoring twice in two minutes. The first one was disallowed for offside, but the second one was fine.
It was a freak goal that changed things. Sjneider's lofted cross came quite naturally through to Cesar in goal. He was slightly impeded by Melo, but not enough to justify what happened. He just completely missed the direction of the ball, and punched the empty air just to the left of its flight path instead. It hit the top of Melo's head and went in. Initially it was given as a Melo own goal, but after the game FIFA awarded it to Sjneider instead. This seems only fair, as the ball would have gone in anyway if it Melo's head hadn't been there, the crucial factor in the attribution of goals.
It seemed to throw Brazil. They've always been equal parts butterfly and bee, but sometimes they've got a bit of a glass jaw to go with it. This was one of those days. Sjneider's headed winner came from a perfectly straightforward corner from Robben, flicked on by Kuyt and knocked in without a serious challenge. Soon after Melo was sent off for stamping on Robben (I've always said watching Rooney is just like watching Brazil), and Brazil ended their World Cup on something of a whimper.
I don't think any of us expected that to happen, and I don't think any of us expected Germany to steamroller Argentina like they steamrollered Australia and England. I mean, Cahill and Terry are one thing, but this was the team of Messi and Maradonna. Their uncharacteristic loss to Serbia aside, no-one has looked vaguely like stopping them.
Klose, meanwhile, has scored 14 World Cup goals in his career. This puts him equal on Gert Muller, and one behind Brazilian Ronaldo in the all time list. He's 32, so this is probably his last chance to get to the top. He's also in the running for the Golden Boot, the highest number of goals in this tournament. He won this in 2006 with five, and no-one has ever won it two tournaments in a row.
They got started quickly in this one. Mueller got his head on a Schweinsteiger free kick from the left and deflected the ball ever so slightly. I think Romero in goal was prepared to either hurl himself across the goal after a proper header or stay right where he was if Mueller missed it. The slight deflection caught him out. It hit his right leg and bounced in, and Germany were one nil up before I'd so much as had a sip of my tea.
Like England, Argentina had plenty of pressure, but it didn't matter this time either. Germany scored a second when Mueller, lying on the floor, was able to flip a ball through to Podolski. He found Klose unmarked in front of an empty net, and Klose, no doubt remembering the Yakubu miss against South Korea, had the calmness to control it first before tapping in.
Schweinsteiger had his moment next, running right through a bedraggled and shell shocked Argentine defence to knock it back for Friedrich, who made no mistake. Klose got a fourth just before the end, and that was that.
Ein, zwei, drei, the Germans go marching on, said Gary Lineker, remaining mysteriously unsacked. Why xenophobia against Germans gets a free pass at the BBC I don't know, but it does. Dutch footballing legend Clarence Seedorf did his level best to show a more cultured and urbane face to the world than the company he found himself in, although he did accidentally undermine his dignified avoidance of national stereotypes by saying how hard it was to break through the German wall. Use a pickaxe is my advice, Clarence.
Lineker was right about one thing, they do go marching on. Although given the joyfulness and panache of their play, we might more accurately characterise their style of movement as a sashay.
The fourth quarter final, Spain v Paraguay, was a tale of posts and penalties. The first half was pretty dull, but there was more than enough material in five minutes of the second half to fill a post. Follow the details, the details are important. I'm afraid the referee isn't about to cover himself in glory.
It started on 59 minutes. Paraguay had a corner, Pique pulled on Cardozo's arm like a child demanding ice cream as the ball swung into the box, and a penalty was given. Pique got a yellow card, and Cardozo took the penalty. It was a poor penalty, Casillas saved it and held on to it, and the game carried on. Thus far, no problem.
A minute later at the other end, Villa got to a ball into the Paraguayan penalty area just before Alcaraz, who pushed him in the back. It was a definite penalty, which was given, but Alcaraz only got a yellow. This was hard to understand, as it was clearly a goal-scoring opportunity for Villa, so if it was a foul it should have been a straight red.
No matter, at least Spain have a penalty. Up steps Alonso, and he tucks it away calmly enough. Except that the referee decides it has to be taken again, for encroachment. This time Villar saves, and the rebound comes out to Fabregas. He tries to go round Villar, who blatantly trips him. No penalty given. The ball comes to Ramos, but his shot is cleared off the line by Da Silva.
All clear? Not quite. Replays show that there was encroachment on all three penalties, and that more Spanish players encroached the Paraguayan penalty miss, saved by Casillas, than encroached Alsonso's first, successful kick.
So the referee has made three game changing mistakes in five minutes. First he missed the encroachment on the first penalty (or mistakenly gave it for the second, depending on the level of tolerance you choose to apply to encroachment). Then he gave Alcaraz a yellow rather than a red. Then he missed the Fabregas trip. And we laughed at Graham Poll four years ago.
After the penalties, the posts. There were three of those as well. In the 82nd minute, Iniesta broke through to the edge of the Paraguayan box, and laid the ball off to Pedro. Pedro's shot hits the left hand post, and comes back to Villa. He controls, steadies himself (it's amazing how the top players know to the nearest tenth of a second exactly how long they have to do this) and shoots. The ball hits the right hand post, runs along the goal line behind Da Silva, hits the left hand post and rolls in.
Poor Da Silva. He'd kept out Ramos after the penalty save, and his position on the goal line was ideal, but the ball pinged one side of him, behind him, and in on the other side. His face as it did this was a comedy classic from the silent era - he looks right, he looks left, he looks bemused, he looks disconsolate. It would have won Buster Keaton an Oscar.
They were unlucky, Paraguay. They had the ball in the net in the first half, but Valdez's goal was disallowed because Cardozo was offside. He'd risen for the cross, hadn't touched it but had got near enough to it to be interfering with play. If he'd left it, the goal would have stood.
They nearly scored again right at the end. Barrios, on for Caceres, had a shot which the normally reliable Casillas spilled. Santa Cruz beat him to the ball as it rolled across the box, but Casillas made himself big and Cruz's shot pinged off him and away. On such margins are these things resolved. Spain go on, Paraguay go home.
So that's the semi final line up.
Holland v
Uruguay and
Germany v
Spain
which spells out a message, from the World Cup to all of us. HUGS, says the World Cup, as it prepares to take its leave. Hugs to you too, World Cup. If I could enter a stasis chamber until your blessed return, I surely would.
The next one is in Brazil, in 2014. South American teams will hope to use it to improve on their performance this time, which rather flattered to deceive. From a position of complete dominance, no South American country has earned an honest semifinal place. Only Uruguay survive, courtesy of Suarez and Gyan's penalty miss.
And there's a real chance of a new name on the trophy. Germany have won before, obviously, but Spain and Holland haven't. If they win they get a final against each other, with a new winner guaranteed. Uruguay, surprisingly, are three time winners, in 1934, 1938 and 1950. This makes them the only team with more years of hurt than England, so if they win England go home crowned champions of something, after all.
Holland 2 - 1 Brazil
Germany 4 - 0 Argentina
Spain 1 - 0 Paraguay
Plans for coherent blogging of the quarter finals were rather scuppered on Friday night when my neighbour Sean knocked on my door and asked me if I fancied a beer at about 5:30. I did fancy a beer, then I fancied another one, then I realised the landlord was firing up the barbecue and they'd be showing the football when it came on in a couple of hours, and my evening plan seemed to emerge quite naturally from the circumstances.
Thus the late appearance of this post, you see. Saturday wasn't the most energised of days. And Sunday was my birthday. So I'm covering the quarter finals in this merged and truncated format.
It may have been the booze, but Uruguay v Ghana was one of the best games of the tournament. Two great goals, extra time and some spectacular cheating. What more could you possibly want?
Ghana got the first, on the stroke of halftime. Sulley Muntari got the ball about forty yards out, and just hit it. Most of the time when someone at this World Cup has done that with the Jabulani ball it's gone sailing well over the bar or halfway to the corner flag, Jabulani being the Xhosa word for flies through the air like Hansie Cronje's plane didn't. Muntari, though, managed to put all those failed efforts in context with one sweet shot, curling away from the unsighted Muslera and in.
Muntari having subverted the World Cup form for the long range shot, Forlan decided to do the same for the free kick. His effort cleared the wall and crashed in, wrong footing Kingson on the way. He'd made the classic keeper's error of moving just before the kick was taken, an understandable urge but one which so often leads to a goal when the attacker happens to choose the opposite side to the one the keeper expects.
As I said, it may have been the booze, but it was a great game. Everyone watching was perfectly happy when full time came, because it guaranteed us another half hour of drinking and watching. I can't give you a lot of detail, I'm afraid. I didn't take my notebook to the pub, and if I had it would mainly have said I fucking love football, it's the best game and people who don't like it are just cunts, rather than anything more coolly analytical, so you'll have to settle for a rather broader brushstroke than I normally use.
In fact I spent most of extra time talking to the woman stood next to me at the bar. Her boy has been signed up as an apprentice for Rovers, and she was worried that he might be corrupted by the superstar life style. I reassured her, and I can reassure you, that there's absolutely no question of the glamour of Bristol Rovers corrupting anyone. If there was a version of Big Brother shown on Dave, at three in the morning every other Wednesday, the people choosing the housemates would pose a greater threat to their young charges' sense of proportion. Parents up and down the land are despearate to reassure agents and talent scouts that rumours of their boy spending time as a Rovers apprentice are entirely unfounded.
No, I wasn't trying to chat her up. She had a husband in tow. I have to say, though, it's a little dispiriting to realise that someone can have a son old enough to be an apprentice and still be unattainably young from my point of view.
The killer moment in the game came right at the end of extra time. From a Ghana corner, Adiyiah's shot was blocked by Suarez on the line. It came back to him, he headed it where it came from, and Suarez blocked it again. This time, though, he used his arm. He was sent off, and Gyan took the penalty. If he'd scored from the penalty, there wouldn't have been penalties. Because his penalty hit the bar and went over, there had to be penalties. Clear?
He took the first Ghana penalty himself. He scored. Like Yakubu for Nigeria, you couldn't but admire his guts. Also like Yakubu for Nigeria, it didn't change a goddam thing. Mensah and Adiyiah missed, Uruguay won the shootout 4-2, and on they go.
As you may imagine, there's been no little discussion of this. Suarez, who misses the semifinal, didn't entirely helped matters by cheering Gyan's penalty miss as he walked off the pitch, and when he said his hand was now the new hand of God he achieved the remarkable feat of making himself unwelcome in Africa, England and Diego Maradonna's house all at the same time.
Even in those parts of the world Suarez could safely visit, there is a general sense that an injustice was done, and that a little humility on the part of Uruguay wouldn't go amiss. Ghana would have been the first African country to reach a World Cup semifinal had Suarez not deliberately handled the ball on the line. It has been said that keeping the ball out by any means is instinctive for a footballer, which is fair enough, but you really ought to eat some humble pie afterwards.
There also seems to be a strong argument for introducing a penalty goal, like the penalty try in rugby. Under this rule, if a player commits a blatant penalty offence in such a way that a definite goal is prevented, by handball, pushing an attacker over as he goes to tap a ball over the line, or whatever, then a goal should be given.
Uruguay now have to play the semifinal without Suarez, but apparently if they should win that game Suarez would be available for the final again. He could easily end up scoring the most unpopular World Cup final winning goal ever.
They play Holland, who beat Brazil in a thrilling game. A few days ago I said this
We're seeing a new, efficient Holland, without the flamboyancy, haircuts or public spats of yesteryear. I like what I'm seeing. Mind you, they've got Brazil next.
They haven't got Brazil next any more. They've got a semifinal against a Uruguay side who have lost their best striker.
It was Brazil's own fault, they threw it away quite casually. They started so well, with Robinho scoring twice in two minutes. The first one was disallowed for offside, but the second one was fine.
It was a freak goal that changed things. Sjneider's lofted cross came quite naturally through to Cesar in goal. He was slightly impeded by Melo, but not enough to justify what happened. He just completely missed the direction of the ball, and punched the empty air just to the left of its flight path instead. It hit the top of Melo's head and went in. Initially it was given as a Melo own goal, but after the game FIFA awarded it to Sjneider instead. This seems only fair, as the ball would have gone in anyway if it Melo's head hadn't been there, the crucial factor in the attribution of goals.
It seemed to throw Brazil. They've always been equal parts butterfly and bee, but sometimes they've got a bit of a glass jaw to go with it. This was one of those days. Sjneider's headed winner came from a perfectly straightforward corner from Robben, flicked on by Kuyt and knocked in without a serious challenge. Soon after Melo was sent off for stamping on Robben (I've always said watching Rooney is just like watching Brazil), and Brazil ended their World Cup on something of a whimper.
I don't think any of us expected that to happen, and I don't think any of us expected Germany to steamroller Argentina like they steamrollered Australia and England. I mean, Cahill and Terry are one thing, but this was the team of Messi and Maradonna. Their uncharacteristic loss to Serbia aside, no-one has looked vaguely like stopping them.
Klose, meanwhile, has scored 14 World Cup goals in his career. This puts him equal on Gert Muller, and one behind Brazilian Ronaldo in the all time list. He's 32, so this is probably his last chance to get to the top. He's also in the running for the Golden Boot, the highest number of goals in this tournament. He won this in 2006 with five, and no-one has ever won it two tournaments in a row.
They got started quickly in this one. Mueller got his head on a Schweinsteiger free kick from the left and deflected the ball ever so slightly. I think Romero in goal was prepared to either hurl himself across the goal after a proper header or stay right where he was if Mueller missed it. The slight deflection caught him out. It hit his right leg and bounced in, and Germany were one nil up before I'd so much as had a sip of my tea.
Like England, Argentina had plenty of pressure, but it didn't matter this time either. Germany scored a second when Mueller, lying on the floor, was able to flip a ball through to Podolski. He found Klose unmarked in front of an empty net, and Klose, no doubt remembering the Yakubu miss against South Korea, had the calmness to control it first before tapping in.
Schweinsteiger had his moment next, running right through a bedraggled and shell shocked Argentine defence to knock it back for Friedrich, who made no mistake. Klose got a fourth just before the end, and that was that.
Ein, zwei, drei, the Germans go marching on, said Gary Lineker, remaining mysteriously unsacked. Why xenophobia against Germans gets a free pass at the BBC I don't know, but it does. Dutch footballing legend Clarence Seedorf did his level best to show a more cultured and urbane face to the world than the company he found himself in, although he did accidentally undermine his dignified avoidance of national stereotypes by saying how hard it was to break through the German wall. Use a pickaxe is my advice, Clarence.
Lineker was right about one thing, they do go marching on. Although given the joyfulness and panache of their play, we might more accurately characterise their style of movement as a sashay.
The fourth quarter final, Spain v Paraguay, was a tale of posts and penalties. The first half was pretty dull, but there was more than enough material in five minutes of the second half to fill a post. Follow the details, the details are important. I'm afraid the referee isn't about to cover himself in glory.
It started on 59 minutes. Paraguay had a corner, Pique pulled on Cardozo's arm like a child demanding ice cream as the ball swung into the box, and a penalty was given. Pique got a yellow card, and Cardozo took the penalty. It was a poor penalty, Casillas saved it and held on to it, and the game carried on. Thus far, no problem.
A minute later at the other end, Villa got to a ball into the Paraguayan penalty area just before Alcaraz, who pushed him in the back. It was a definite penalty, which was given, but Alcaraz only got a yellow. This was hard to understand, as it was clearly a goal-scoring opportunity for Villa, so if it was a foul it should have been a straight red.
No matter, at least Spain have a penalty. Up steps Alonso, and he tucks it away calmly enough. Except that the referee decides it has to be taken again, for encroachment. This time Villar saves, and the rebound comes out to Fabregas. He tries to go round Villar, who blatantly trips him. No penalty given. The ball comes to Ramos, but his shot is cleared off the line by Da Silva.
All clear? Not quite. Replays show that there was encroachment on all three penalties, and that more Spanish players encroached the Paraguayan penalty miss, saved by Casillas, than encroached Alsonso's first, successful kick.
So the referee has made three game changing mistakes in five minutes. First he missed the encroachment on the first penalty (or mistakenly gave it for the second, depending on the level of tolerance you choose to apply to encroachment). Then he gave Alcaraz a yellow rather than a red. Then he missed the Fabregas trip. And we laughed at Graham Poll four years ago.
After the penalties, the posts. There were three of those as well. In the 82nd minute, Iniesta broke through to the edge of the Paraguayan box, and laid the ball off to Pedro. Pedro's shot hits the left hand post, and comes back to Villa. He controls, steadies himself (it's amazing how the top players know to the nearest tenth of a second exactly how long they have to do this) and shoots. The ball hits the right hand post, runs along the goal line behind Da Silva, hits the left hand post and rolls in.
Poor Da Silva. He'd kept out Ramos after the penalty save, and his position on the goal line was ideal, but the ball pinged one side of him, behind him, and in on the other side. His face as it did this was a comedy classic from the silent era - he looks right, he looks left, he looks bemused, he looks disconsolate. It would have won Buster Keaton an Oscar.
They were unlucky, Paraguay. They had the ball in the net in the first half, but Valdez's goal was disallowed because Cardozo was offside. He'd risen for the cross, hadn't touched it but had got near enough to it to be interfering with play. If he'd left it, the goal would have stood.
They nearly scored again right at the end. Barrios, on for Caceres, had a shot which the normally reliable Casillas spilled. Santa Cruz beat him to the ball as it rolled across the box, but Casillas made himself big and Cruz's shot pinged off him and away. On such margins are these things resolved. Spain go on, Paraguay go home.
So that's the semi final line up.
Holland v
Uruguay and
Germany v
Spain
which spells out a message, from the World Cup to all of us. HUGS, says the World Cup, as it prepares to take its leave. Hugs to you too, World Cup. If I could enter a stasis chamber until your blessed return, I surely would.
The next one is in Brazil, in 2014. South American teams will hope to use it to improve on their performance this time, which rather flattered to deceive. From a position of complete dominance, no South American country has earned an honest semifinal place. Only Uruguay survive, courtesy of Suarez and Gyan's penalty miss.
And there's a real chance of a new name on the trophy. Germany have won before, obviously, but Spain and Holland haven't. If they win they get a final against each other, with a new winner guaranteed. Uruguay, surprisingly, are three time winners, in 1934, 1938 and 1950. This makes them the only team with more years of hurt than England, so if they win England go home crowned champions of something, after all.
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Spain v Portugal
Spain 1 Villa 63
Portugal 0
I took a day off before I wrote this one. I've been writing about football fairly much all the time I haven't been watching it, and it suddenly dawned on me it was nineteen days since I'd been further than the Tesco round the corner.
So I got on my bike and went down to the city. I was a bit nervous at first, but it all seemed to be where I'd left it. You've even added a couple of new bits. Shops, taxis, swing bridges, emergency services, you've kept them going right through the World Cup. Well done.
It was lovely to sit down by the harbour with a coffee and a burger and do the crossword in the paper while people chugged, sailed and rowed all around me. I didn't even mind the lack of football. It turns out that four to six hours a day for nineteen days in a row is actually enough. Football: a bit like cocaine, but much more like custard.
Unfortunately, the down side of a day off is that when you do finally get round to writing up a game report, your notes can seem a little thin. 12 short corner, Torres shoots just over, 15 wide right, unlucky, it says. I really don't recall, so I'm going to have to take my word for it. So, Torres was unlucky after twelve minutes when his shot from the right hand edge of the box went just over after Spain caught Portugal napping with a short corner, I'm going to write. And now I have.
There are some moments I remember with startling clarity. Ronaldo pushed by Piquet, no foul, I enjoyed that. Shortly followed by my favourite moment of the World Cup so far, Ronaldo quite clearly fouled, blatantly pushed over, nothing given ha ha twat. Truly these are great days we're living through.
Not for Ronaldo, though, or for Portugal. Tuesday in particular wasn't their day at all. They'd clearly been told to go out there and defend, and they kept two lines of four most of the time with Wonder Boy on his own up front. It worked for them for an hour, which is how long the tactic usually works for, but in the end the constant pressure wears you down and you crack.
It started with a diving header for Llorente, who'd come on for the unfit Torres. The defence seemed to just let him go, and if he'd managed to put it either side of the keeper it would have been in.
A minute later, and Villa's shot from the edge of the box just curled wide. They'd defended well, the Portugese, the keeper was doing everything asked of him, they'd even had a few chances themselves, but you could feel the momentum build.
The goal came two minutes later. The ball came through to Xavi in the box, his little back heel flick was so subtle you had to check the replay to be sure he'd made contact, but it just gave it the slight vector and momentum shift to land it perfectly in Villa's path. Eduardo saved the first shot, but the rebound came back to Villa, who made no mistake with his second.
It looked fractionally offside to me, but you'd be hard pressed to work up any sense of outrage for a poor and unambitious Portugal side, especially one with Ronaldo in it. At the end they may have been the victims of another injustice, when Costa was sent off for elbowing Capdevila. Replays were inconclusive, an odd thing to say about an incident where one player elbows another in the face, but it was genuinely hard to tell if there was contact or not from what we saw.
The whistle blew soon after, and that was that. So, Spain go marching on, and Portugal go home. Bye Ronaldo. Bye bye. Twat.
Portugal 0
I took a day off before I wrote this one. I've been writing about football fairly much all the time I haven't been watching it, and it suddenly dawned on me it was nineteen days since I'd been further than the Tesco round the corner.
So I got on my bike and went down to the city. I was a bit nervous at first, but it all seemed to be where I'd left it. You've even added a couple of new bits. Shops, taxis, swing bridges, emergency services, you've kept them going right through the World Cup. Well done.
It was lovely to sit down by the harbour with a coffee and a burger and do the crossword in the paper while people chugged, sailed and rowed all around me. I didn't even mind the lack of football. It turns out that four to six hours a day for nineteen days in a row is actually enough. Football: a bit like cocaine, but much more like custard.
Unfortunately, the down side of a day off is that when you do finally get round to writing up a game report, your notes can seem a little thin. 12 short corner, Torres shoots just over, 15 wide right, unlucky, it says. I really don't recall, so I'm going to have to take my word for it. So, Torres was unlucky after twelve minutes when his shot from the right hand edge of the box went just over after Spain caught Portugal napping with a short corner, I'm going to write. And now I have.
There are some moments I remember with startling clarity. Ronaldo pushed by Piquet, no foul, I enjoyed that. Shortly followed by my favourite moment of the World Cup so far, Ronaldo quite clearly fouled, blatantly pushed over, nothing given ha ha twat. Truly these are great days we're living through.
Not for Ronaldo, though, or for Portugal. Tuesday in particular wasn't their day at all. They'd clearly been told to go out there and defend, and they kept two lines of four most of the time with Wonder Boy on his own up front. It worked for them for an hour, which is how long the tactic usually works for, but in the end the constant pressure wears you down and you crack.
It started with a diving header for Llorente, who'd come on for the unfit Torres. The defence seemed to just let him go, and if he'd managed to put it either side of the keeper it would have been in.
A minute later, and Villa's shot from the edge of the box just curled wide. They'd defended well, the Portugese, the keeper was doing everything asked of him, they'd even had a few chances themselves, but you could feel the momentum build.
The goal came two minutes later. The ball came through to Xavi in the box, his little back heel flick was so subtle you had to check the replay to be sure he'd made contact, but it just gave it the slight vector and momentum shift to land it perfectly in Villa's path. Eduardo saved the first shot, but the rebound came back to Villa, who made no mistake with his second.
It looked fractionally offside to me, but you'd be hard pressed to work up any sense of outrage for a poor and unambitious Portugal side, especially one with Ronaldo in it. At the end they may have been the victims of another injustice, when Costa was sent off for elbowing Capdevila. Replays were inconclusive, an odd thing to say about an incident where one player elbows another in the face, but it was genuinely hard to tell if there was contact or not from what we saw.
The whistle blew soon after, and that was that. So, Spain go marching on, and Portugal go home. Bye Ronaldo. Bye bye. Twat.
Paraguay v Japan
Paraguay 0 - 0 Japan (after extra time)
Paraguay win 5-3 on penalties
Forgot to hit Publish Post, sorry [Ed]
There was a game before the penalties, but I won't detain you with it. Suffice it to say that the first half, the last half hour and the second half of extra time were rubbish. I can't testify to minutes 45 to 60, they may have been brilliant, but after the gripping first half I found it impossible to tear myself away from Countdown. I turned back in the end, it was that or Deal or No Deal, but judging by the general tone of the commentators on my return the entertainment value of the lost fifteen minutes seems to have been intermittent at best.
The first half of extra time was fractionally better, but not sufficiently to induce me to describe it, so we'll skip straight to the penalty shootout. Komano hit the bar with Japan's third, Paraguay scored all five, and that was that. That's something of a cursory description as well, isn't it? Oh well, sometimes you lay the golden egg and sometimes it's just a wet fart.
Paraguay's success means four South American teams make the final eight. Given that we started with five out of 32, and Chile were knocked out by Brazil, I'm sure you can deduce that there are still as many South American sides left as mathematics would allow.
Japan's exit ends the direct interest of the continent of Asia in this tournament. To go with the four South American teams there are three European ones and Ghana for the host continent. As it seems to be viewed now. Now England have gone am I supposed to cheer for the European countries? Actually, I'm cheering for the countries who have never won it before. It was so nice when France won in 1998, it would be nice to have it happen again. Otherwise, I'd like Argentina to win so I can clean up in the office sweepstake.
Next, the big one. Spain against Portugal, to complete the quarter final line up. Tomorrow and Thursday we get two days without football, and judging by this game it's about time.
I know what you're all wondering - did I get the conundrum? How could you doubt me? Now SKEDADDLE.
Paraguay win 5-3 on penalties
Forgot to hit Publish Post, sorry [Ed]
There was a game before the penalties, but I won't detain you with it. Suffice it to say that the first half, the last half hour and the second half of extra time were rubbish. I can't testify to minutes 45 to 60, they may have been brilliant, but after the gripping first half I found it impossible to tear myself away from Countdown. I turned back in the end, it was that or Deal or No Deal, but judging by the general tone of the commentators on my return the entertainment value of the lost fifteen minutes seems to have been intermittent at best.
The first half of extra time was fractionally better, but not sufficiently to induce me to describe it, so we'll skip straight to the penalty shootout. Komano hit the bar with Japan's third, Paraguay scored all five, and that was that. That's something of a cursory description as well, isn't it? Oh well, sometimes you lay the golden egg and sometimes it's just a wet fart.
Paraguay's success means four South American teams make the final eight. Given that we started with five out of 32, and Chile were knocked out by Brazil, I'm sure you can deduce that there are still as many South American sides left as mathematics would allow.
Japan's exit ends the direct interest of the continent of Asia in this tournament. To go with the four South American teams there are three European ones and Ghana for the host continent. As it seems to be viewed now. Now England have gone am I supposed to cheer for the European countries? Actually, I'm cheering for the countries who have never won it before. It was so nice when France won in 1998, it would be nice to have it happen again. Otherwise, I'd like Argentina to win so I can clean up in the office sweepstake.
Next, the big one. Spain against Portugal, to complete the quarter final line up. Tomorrow and Thursday we get two days without football, and judging by this game it's about time.
I know what you're all wondering - did I get the conundrum? How could you doubt me? Now SKEDADDLE.
Monday, 28 June 2010
Brazil v Chile
Brazil 3 Juan 34, Fabiano 38, Robinho 59
Chile 0
Let's not beat around the bush. We all knew that was going to happen. Chile will have groaned when they saw the group draw, and realised how long the odds were on getting anyone other than Brazil in this game. They might have hoped for something different when Switzerland beat Spain, but they never scored enough goals to be top of the group, so by the time they played Spain themselves they must have seen the writing on the wall. And let's not pretend we felt any different when we realised we were going to have to play Germany.
It wasn't the game of the tournament, although it was the best game so far that's had Brazil in it. I still haven't forgiven them for the Portugal game, to be honest. To be fair, they seemed to spend less time clutching their gaping wounds and screaming for a medic than they have in previous appearances.
And they played well enough to have the first six chances that made it into my notebook, including three goals. They did all their little tricks, but it was a defender's header from a corner that put them one up. Juan took a leaf out of the Louis Carey school of defensive attacking, planting himself in the middle of the box, rising high and powering it in. Come on, I've been really good, surely I'm allowed one.
The second was just the kind of thing we're desperate to be able to say we've come to expect. Robinho free down the left on the break, the defender beaten, the cross to Kaka, the precision pass between two covering defenders to Fabiano, the unstoppable shot. You know, that kind of thing. The stuff they owe us somehow.
The third was the same kind of thing again. The Ramirez run into the heart of the Chilean defence, the defensive slip which allowed the pass across to Robinho, the shot that curves round the keeper and back in just in time. It looks so easy sometimes, football.
Chile were disappointing in this one. There was one particular moment that summed up their evening. Three nil down with twenty minutes left, they got a break, they dashed forward en masse, as they really needed to, but just couldn't seem to get the ball moving as fast as they were. Brazil took it back, and used the opportunity to show how breaks should be done. Five seconds after they'd picked it up on the edge of their own half Robinho was shooting from wide right. Bravo saved well to keep the score to three, but it was a symbolic moment.
They haven't been terrible, Chile, but they've never quite delivered. They laboured rather against a semi-pro Honduran team and an unambitious Swiss one, got one nil wins over both and threw their tournament away in the last fifteen minutes of the first half against Spain. Recovering later in that game to play the best football we've seen from them, they then settled for the one goal deficit that gave them the odds over Switzerland, when cold logic must have told them another goal would have made all the difference to their hopes. Brazil did the necessary, and home they go.
Brazil get a quarter final against Holland, with a semifinal against Uruguay or Ghana to follow. Tomorrow, Paraguay against Japan and, more tellingly, Spain against Portugal.
Chile 0
Let's not beat around the bush. We all knew that was going to happen. Chile will have groaned when they saw the group draw, and realised how long the odds were on getting anyone other than Brazil in this game. They might have hoped for something different when Switzerland beat Spain, but they never scored enough goals to be top of the group, so by the time they played Spain themselves they must have seen the writing on the wall. And let's not pretend we felt any different when we realised we were going to have to play Germany.
It wasn't the game of the tournament, although it was the best game so far that's had Brazil in it. I still haven't forgiven them for the Portugal game, to be honest. To be fair, they seemed to spend less time clutching their gaping wounds and screaming for a medic than they have in previous appearances.
And they played well enough to have the first six chances that made it into my notebook, including three goals. They did all their little tricks, but it was a defender's header from a corner that put them one up. Juan took a leaf out of the Louis Carey school of defensive attacking, planting himself in the middle of the box, rising high and powering it in. Come on, I've been really good, surely I'm allowed one.
The second was just the kind of thing we're desperate to be able to say we've come to expect. Robinho free down the left on the break, the defender beaten, the cross to Kaka, the precision pass between two covering defenders to Fabiano, the unstoppable shot. You know, that kind of thing. The stuff they owe us somehow.
The third was the same kind of thing again. The Ramirez run into the heart of the Chilean defence, the defensive slip which allowed the pass across to Robinho, the shot that curves round the keeper and back in just in time. It looks so easy sometimes, football.
Chile were disappointing in this one. There was one particular moment that summed up their evening. Three nil down with twenty minutes left, they got a break, they dashed forward en masse, as they really needed to, but just couldn't seem to get the ball moving as fast as they were. Brazil took it back, and used the opportunity to show how breaks should be done. Five seconds after they'd picked it up on the edge of their own half Robinho was shooting from wide right. Bravo saved well to keep the score to three, but it was a symbolic moment.
They haven't been terrible, Chile, but they've never quite delivered. They laboured rather against a semi-pro Honduran team and an unambitious Swiss one, got one nil wins over both and threw their tournament away in the last fifteen minutes of the first half against Spain. Recovering later in that game to play the best football we've seen from them, they then settled for the one goal deficit that gave them the odds over Switzerland, when cold logic must have told them another goal would have made all the difference to their hopes. Brazil did the necessary, and home they go.
Brazil get a quarter final against Holland, with a semifinal against Uruguay or Ghana to follow. Tomorrow, Paraguay against Japan and, more tellingly, Spain against Portugal.
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