Sitting high in the terraces on Sunday night, I was probably too overawed to truly gauge how foul a match it actually was.
Niggly, cagey, unambitious, nervy. All the typical synonyms for “absolute dog shit” have been bandied about by the press in the post mortem.
But between seeing Nelson Mandela pre-game (shame for my mate, who went to get a pie at that point) and Iker Cassilas hoist the famous gold trophy in the aftermath (which I also almost saw hijacked just minutes before kick-off), I didn’t really care.
It was still a momentous occasion, and with Spain taking the trophy, it was another chapter in football’s history.
Was it a fitting result?
Yes.
Spain, after an early hiccup, were a model of professionalism. They stamped their own distinct style on the tournament, if they haven’t already done enough to define this era as their own, and raised their standards game by game, peaking for the semi, before showing mental strength to overcome the combative Dutch. Their squad depth defies belief, and their production of talent ought to be a model for the rest of the world to aspire to.
Was it a fitting match?
Yes and no.
No, because both sides abandoned their qualities to fall into the trap of niggling. The Dutch were the main culprits, but I suppose the fact that the Spanish struggled to keep the ball with their usual consistency means the Dutch’s plan worked. But they abandoned their strengths – Dirk Kuyt and Arjen Robben out wide, being supplied by the class of Wesley Sneijder. Instead, they teamed up with Mark van Bommel and Nigel de Jong to butcher the Spanish and their focus diverted from their own genuine ability. It was a shame, because a pure football match would have been fascinating, but the Dutch probably knew it lengthened their odds of winning.
The African World Cup didn’t deserve a final with such turgid tactics.
But I also argue yes to the earlier question, because both sides packed their midfields and were very tough to breakdown.
That reflects the tournament.
Look who succeeded:
Germany via Schweinsteiger and Kadira.
Spain via their roll call of midfield stars, but defensively, led by Busquets and Alonso.
Holland, with Du Jong and Van Bommel (who ruined his tournament with a violent final performance).
And Uruguay – with a collective pack that worked, harried, hassled and kept space compact.
Who failed?
Diego Maradonna left Javier Mascerano exposed on his own in midfield (how on earth was he supposed to deal with the Germans running at pace, with Di Maria, Rodrigues, Messi, Tevez and Iguain all offensively minded), Fabio Capello was let down by Gareth Barry (or vice versa, perhaps) and Brazil’s midfield imploded with disciplinary problems that ultimately proved fatal. Even look at the Aussies, who competed magnificently once the mobile pairing of Valeri and Culina teamed up.
In a tournament where the superstars failed to shine, it was team work, mobility and midfield strength that ultimately prevailed.
Many pundits have bemoaned the quality of the tournament – and while I agree it pales compared to Germany 2006, I don’t necessarily think teams had negative tactics.
I think that teams were damn well organised, and the best coaches found a way to penetrate. They found a way to both contain, and attack.
Marcello Lippi, for example, failed to break down New Zealand, Paraguay and Slovakia’s stingy defences. Arivaderchi, then.
Vincente del Bosque (granted, he had more tools at his disposal) had to re-think his strategy after Switzerland, and while he stuck to his guns by maintaining all three of Alonso, Busquets and Xavi, he tinkered. He moved Xavi further forward, and shifted from the directness of Torres-Navas against Honduras to his final preference of the width of Iniesta-Pedro. It worked.
Besides Paraguay v Japan, the knock-out matches were fascinating. From goal line technology via Frank Lampard (at least England contributed something to the tournament), to Joachim Lowe’s dynamic youngsters, through to Luis Suarez’s devilish tactics, the narrative is filled with incident and talking points.
What was missing was the emergence of a true star to define a generation. A good final would have put Sneijder or David Villa on that pedestal, but instead, Diego Forlan emerged from the pack as the deserved Golden Ball.
A truly classic match also was not to be seen – the best we got was probably the Brazil/Hollland/Uruguay/Ghana double header, but more for the drama than the quality.
But in the end, the top 20 goals and top 20 saves are worthy of being replayed forever, and while the big guns failed to fire as a collective, the stuttering of the likes of France, England, Italy and even Spain and Germany initially, made the group stages as “live” as the later stages.
You know it’s been a great month when the bread and butter of league football looks all a bit mundane, especially having seen how dismally all the Premier League (not just the English) players fared.
In the end though, perhaps the word “vuvuzela” will be remembered long after the word “Jabulani” is forgotten.
The football was fascinating, but this World Cup was about so much more.
Who would’ve thought we’d say it, but Brazil has a tough act to follow …
