On why both Argentina and Brazil are going home:
South America was flying high until yesterday. With 4 teams qualified for the quarters, it seemed likely that Africa’s party would turn into a prelude to what’s surely going to be a nail-biting World Cup Brazil 2014. But a few youngsters from Europe who barely see in one year the press that Lionel Messi gets in one month had something different in mind.
“Te acompanio en sentimentio por la perdida de Argentina”, a distressed blond woman shouted to my Argentine companion in Queens, 15 minutes after Germany had put an end to Maradona’s insane spell and sent him packing with an unforgiving 4-0. Argentina’s loss is Maradona’s failure.
I admit, I had believed for a good while in his manic bet, and I have the jersey to prove it. I had believed in the “genius” and the audacity to rest the hopes of his nation on the shoulders of one player, who can undoubtedly play the best football. But who didn’t have in Africa what he has at Barcelona: a team behind him. Messi is good enough to play alone. He can turn matches around. It’s just very improbable that he’ll dribble past 6 opponents in a row, and when it didn’t happen against Germany, Maradona had no answer on the bench. He sat there dumbstruck, wondering deep down why the destiny that smiled at him in 1986 didn’t follow Messi this time around. Why God didn’t smile for Diego once more. Diego, whose face is plastered to the window of every soccer establishment in Argentina. Well, Diego should have had that question answered in 1990. Such is the king sport. Mascherano would have had to multiply himself to do all that Maradona asked him to do against Ozil and co. Messi would have had to be super human, and perhaps score a goal with his hand. This was the vision of deluded Maradona, who kisses his players, counts his blessings and carries his rosary, but had no answer against a German team that is too well-oiled to spare squads that show neither backbone nor humility.
Elsewhere, Dunga had the game in his pocket against a similarly young and audacious Dutch team. But where Maradona failed, Dunga overdid it, ordering Brazil to fall back instead of finishing Netherlands off. And he paid the price when Wesley Sneijder, who later commented on how good it felt to have the ball brush against his bald head on the second goal, solved the game for the Dutch in two swift moves and inspired his team to victory. Dunga forgot that the Brazil he remembers (just like Maradona remembers Argentina) also used to have fun on the pitch, and savor the pleasure of running for the goal. He forgot Rivaldo, he forgot Romario, he forgot young Ronaldo and he tried to prove a critical and prophetic Johan Cruyff that “football has changed.” No, Dunga, it hasn’t. The team who scores the most goals still wins.
And so, both Argentina and Brazil went down at the hands of two men who have seen the last of their countries’ golden generations. Dunga lost because he rejected history, Maradona because he relied on it. In the age of Nike commercials dictating how people perceive football, Germany did well to prove what the sport is about. As my friend Peter aptly noticed: how many Germans can you see towering above everyone else in this fun little statistic?
In other news, my heart sank yesterday when Luis Suarez handballed a Ghana strike away from the goal line in the 121st minute of the game. Asamoah Gyan predictably missed a penalty kick under the pressure of history knocking on his door. Suarez clapped, Ghana cried, and Africa cried for Ghana. No matter how cheap and heartbreaking his save though, I’m forced to agree with my friend Bikram: Suarez showed more of that elusive team spirit than the entire wonder trident Messi-Higuain-Teves combined, and far more cool nerve than Brazil’s Felipe Melo. Thanks to him, Uruguay now stands alone for Latin America in the semis. Nobody at Univision saw that one coming.
And man. The Germans just won’t stop. Watching them play is like watching the Sound of Music. Ozil to Schweinsteiger to Muller, to Klose and goal, almost every time. Miroslav Klose is two short of being the most prolific world cup scorer of all time, and he doesn’t even start at Bayern. Mesut Ozil reminds me of the magical Turkish squad that took Euro 2008 by storm. And by now Maradona will surely remember who 20 year old Thomas Muller is. They’re young and thirsty, these Germans. And they’re playing delightful football.
A word of caution though: if Germany makes it to the final, they’re favorites, and winning the cup would be well deserved. But they’ll have to play Spain first. And no matter how absorbing their game is, the Germans have not yet played the team that knows an antidote to their midfield play. Del Bosque seems to have figured that one out. He is not Maradona, and has Germany’s number from their Austrian date 2 years ago. He will calculate his team’s steps the best he can, take full advantage of Muller’s unfortunate absence and rely on the likes of Villa and Xavi to strike first. Spain has crept forward without shining, like an old lady beating vicious defenses with her gnarled stick. But it hasn’t choked, and made it to the semis for the first time in 80 years of World Cup history. I wouldn’t count the Spanish or their luck out just yet.
