Much as I expected, the final of the World Cup amounted to more than two hours of turgid crap, with Spain not surprisingly chalking up their favourite scoreline of 1-0. Much was made beforehand about the clash of styles; the BBC must have spent a fair packet on what seemed to be an endless stream of high-production mini-movies that punctuated the tedious pre-match pitter-patter of Messrs Lineker, Hansen, Shearer and Dixon. Everyone seemed to expect a classic, though anyone who had actually watched these two teams throughout the tournament would have known that it was going to be little more than a tedious borefest won by the odd goal in one.
While I did expect them to adopt the same negative approach that had been so successful in their quarter-final against Brazil, I didn’t expect the Dutch to be so dirty. Referee Howard Webb ended up dishing out enough cards to fill a shelf at his local branch of Clinton’s – fourteen yellow cards including a second one that resulted in the dismissal of Dutch defender Johnny Heitinga – but it could have been many, many more. The Dutch were lucky not to end the first half with ten men, and Nigel de Jong should certainly have been dismissed for his chest-high assault on Xabi Alonso: in the land that gave birth to Christiaan Barnard, it was little more than a crude attempt at open heart surgery. The match was not so much a tactical battle but simply a battle. It was bitty, fragmented, and deserved a penalty shoot-out – though it’s hard not to say that the result was the right one. The Dutch clearly came into the game with the same mindset as Carlos Bilardo’s Argentina side had done in 1990, and got exactly what they deserved.
The post-match analysis saw BBC pundit Alan Hansen in raptures – I couldn’t even begin to count the number of adjectives he threw out in describing Spain’s performance. Maybe I’ll tot them up tonight when I watch it again. OK, the right team won the final and Hansen finally got to have his orgasm – but let’s be blunt and say that for all their pretty passing and ability, Spain scored only eight goals in their seven games – the lowest number of goals scored by a World Cup winning side ever, and by a considerable distance. Their tika-taka was pretty to watch for ten minutes, but after that it always became rather tedious; if Germany had won all their knock-out matches 1-0 – even with their new-found fast-paced approach – Hansen would have put on his best sour-puss face and simply rolled out the well-worn terms like “solid, boring, efficient. machine-like”. Und so weiter.
Well I’m sorry Alan, but for all of their well-timed coordination and jiggery-pokery in midfield, Spain fitted this bill perfectly. Solid, boring, efficient, machine-like – doing just about enough to pass the opposition to death and win every game by the odd goal, with the exception of Honduras, who were rubbish. Then there was their constant imaginary card-waving, gesticulating and sneaky simulation. Didn’t notice that, did you Hansen you myopic dolt? Did you not see your wet dream hero Andres Iniesta fall almost immediately under the slightest challenge and escape a booking following what was a truly girly swing at one of those horrid ankle-hacking Dutchmen? Had Webb and his crew not had a Should have gone to SpecsSavers moment – first for not giving the Dutch a corner after an obvious deflection and then calling play back for a two-man sandwich squeeze on winger Elijero Elia – the game would have in all likelihood gone to penalties.
Poor Howard Webb. He clearly tried his best in what was a truly awful game, but ended up being criticised from all aides. First there was Dutch coach Bert van Marwijk, who felt that the nine yellow cards dished out to his team was harsh – clearly forgetting the fact that Mark van Bommel’s usual shenanigans went unpunished (OK, I love the guy when he’s in a Bayern shirt but hey…), Arjen Robben’s constant petulant whinging was bizarrely tolerated (ditto…) and his only presenting a yellow card for that tackle by de Jong. On the other hand the Spanish media laid into the official for not cracking down hard enough on the men in orange:
“Holland were able to count on an unexpected ally: referee Howard Webb, who allowed the Dutch to get away with brutal fouls time and time again”. (El Mundo Deportivo)
“He even handed out the cards equally until the situation was beyond repair. He was on the verge of destroying the final”. (Marca)
Ouch.
Still, when all is said and done the fact remains that Spain won the World Cup, and that’s all that really counts – though who knows how Germany might have played had Thomas Müller been on the field in that semi-final. And who knows how things might have panned out had the referee spotted Sergio Ramos‘ crafty knee-nudge on Mesut Özil. Who knows.
A Spanish victory had been on the cards ever since Paul der Kraken-Orakel had called it – it completed a perfect eight out of eight, with the seventh being Germany’s 3-2 win over a gallant Uruguay in the third and fourth place play-off match – which was probably the best game of the tournament and a final that might have been.
Both sides hit the crossbar once – with Diego Forlán’s last-second free-kick almost taking the game into extra-time at 3-3 – but here was a game played in a decent spirit and with both sides going for the result. Of course, there was little at stake save pride and the prize of a bronze medal – but both sides went for the jugular in a fixture that would usually be passed off as meaningless. Thomas Müller again showed what a revelation he has been by smartly latching onto a parry by the Uruguayan ‘keeper from a stinging shot from Bastian Schweinsteiger, Forlán showed again how underrated is he is with a stunning strike to put the Celeste 2-1 up, Marcell Jansen showed that he can do a Klose by nodding in a pin-point Jérôme Boateng cross, and captain-for-the-future Sami Khedira wrapped things up with a Ballack-style header.
For all the pitter-patter about Spanish tika-taka-tapas, the best players were on show in this game: Schweinsteiger, who has been a revelation since being made boss of Germany’s dynamic midfield; Özil, who despite having a quieter game than usual showed those sparks of magic that helped tear both England and Argentina apart; Forlán, who showed that not making the grade at Manchester United is not the end of the world.
Then there is Thomas Müller.
The Bayern starlet has been touted as the find of the tournament, and is a guarateed shoo-in for the Best Young Player award, which was won by Lukas Podolski in 2006. However I find it bizarre that he was only nominated for this prize, and not even put on the shortlist for the Golden Ball as player of the tournament which was won by Diego Forlán. As well as providing a youthful dynamism to the German side, Müller also ended up winner of the Golden Boot with five goals and three assists, following in the footsteps of Miroslav Klose. While some have questioned the use of assists as a tie-breaker in determining the winner of the award – Forlán, Wesley Sneijder and David Villa also scored five goals – it is perhaps worth noting that Müller scored his five goals in six games while the others needed the full set of seven. As for Klose, it was painfully unlucky that the combination of a bad back and flu kept him out of a game where he might have equalled or broken Ronaldo’s World Cup goalscoring record; he’ll have to make do with sitting alongside the legendary Gerd Müller on fourteen, which I suppose is no bad claim to make.
So it was a rubbish final, but this is a World Cup I will remember as a supporter of the Nationalmannschaft. A fresh, dynamic approach with a young team that already looks primed for future success. An intelligent and astute coach. The first team since the legendary Brazil side of 1970 to score four goals in a match on three separate occasions. Sixteen goals, double the amount scored by the eventual winners and four more than anybody else. Light years from the old-style approach of 2002, and a definite step up from 2006.
Roll on Euro 2012!
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