Two days of hell passed in the wilderness. And then ...
The Netherlands vs Brazil
ITV started their coverage with the wholly expected 'Pele and Cruyff montage' before Andy Townsend started talking and I switched over, quickly, to the women's cricket on Sky Sports until he'd stopped. 'Oranges and lemons,' noted Peter Drury in a rather sweeping and grandiose scene-setting piece in which he noted 'a game, not for hard facts but for the imagination.' Well, hopefully. I had a feeling before hand that this was either going to be the game of the tournament or the biggest single disappointment of it. There would be, you felt, little or middle ground. And, that's exactly how it proved. The first half was fabulous - or, at least, the Brazilians were. The Dutch simply never got going.
Van Persie was anonymous. Sneijder was anonymous. Everything went through Robben who, it seemed, has chosen today for his worst game in a good couple of years. By contrast, when the blue shirts swept forward, you sensed that danger could come from anywhere. It took them ten minutes to find a chink in the Dutch armour. Melo's pass found Robinho who, unchallenged, ran through to score. After that, it was all Brazil, the only black moment for them coming when Dunga's unhappiness at Michel Bastos getting a yellow card caused him to give his dugout a damned good fisting. Total football? Yeah. It was. The Dutch were being outplayed. Totally. If ever they needed Van Marwijk to get out a big stick and start giving some massive egos a damned good hiding at half-time, today was that day. And then, out of absolutely nothing, the Dutch equalised. I didn't see that one coming - and neither, it would seem, did Julio Cesar! Wesley Sneijder curled over a left-footed free-kick from the Dutch right and Cesar, usually so reliable, came for it, flapped at it and the ball clipped the top of Felipe Melo's head before creeping into the corner. Game, as they say, very much on. Interestingly, just before the goal, Brazil should probably have been down to ten men as Bastos yet again kicked Robben up aheight having already been booked. The - otherwise very impressive - Japanese referee, however, gave him the benefit of the doubt, much to Van Persie's obvious chagrin.
Brazil has bossed the game for just about the whole of the first fifty five minute but, suddenly, they found themselves behind. Robben sent over a corner from the right, Dirk Kuyt flicked it on at the near post and there was Wesley Sneijder at the back to head it into the corner. Incredible. Unbelievable. Spirit of '74. Get yer Ajax and yer Wims out for the lads. Suddenly, less welcome reminders of that match at Dortmund in '74 were dragged into focus again, when Felipe Melo had a mad Luis Pereira-moment and stamped on Robben for no obvious reason. A headstrong fragment of stupidity that earned him a deserved straight red card.
Forget any idea about this being a disappointment, this was, indeed, the match of the tournament, by miles. Brazil threw caution to the four winds and bravely mounted wave after wave of attacks with the Dutch sitting back but breaking intelligently with pace. It was thrilling stuff. The sort of final that we always hope for but never get. As the Dutch took control of the midfield, Brazil lost their shape and, with it, some of their composure although you always sensed they were good enough to go down the other end and score if they could only keep their heads. Van Persie went off five minutes from the end and, this time, didn't throw his dummy out of the pram. In the last five minutes nails were bitten, emotions tested, last-ditch tackles made. Jeez, if only the World Cup was always like this.
It's an Oranj world tonight! And one little boy who fell in love with Dutch football in the summer of 1974 could not, possibly, be happier.
Ghana v Uruguay
After a match as dramatic as this afternoon's, almost anything was going to be an anti-climax. Almost anything, I said. ITV did their best - although, inevitably, their best included the hugely patronising spectacle of sending one of their reporters - Ned Boulting - to Accra to sample some of the local 'colour.' How decidedly colonialist, old chaps. 'One of the first rules of sports broadcasting is not to show any favouritism,' noted Clive Tyldesley. Hang on, Clive Tyldesley has always shown favouritism. Usually to Manchester United. Often when they're not even playing. Anyway, he continued by doing exactly that, drawing a tenuous link to various Britons with some vague Ghanaian heritage (Dizzee Rascal, for one). 'It's nice to have one English-speaking country left in the tournament.' Oh well, that's all right then. It's also eighty percent of the world's population gone in a sentence.
Nice bit of casual racism there, you crass Little Englander, you. After Chiles' thoroughly rotten tongue-rimming earlier where he'd, basically, told anybody intending on supporting Uruguay ('cast in the role of pantomime villain' said Tyldesley) that they were traitors, despite my own hope that Ghana would win, as i like an underdog as much as the next man, I was on the point of switching allegiance. But then ... it's Uruguay. Yeah. Even their mothers find them hard to love! Tyldesley finished his hatefully one-sided opening piece by concluding that the vuvuzelas were likely to be going some in the stadium. 'If you're not a fan, this might be a night for turning the sound down.' The first thing he's said that actually makes sense in about a decade.
Uruguay were the better team for most of the opening twenty minutes or so but an enforced change (Scotti for Lugano) combined with Boeteng having an absolute blinder playing in the hole behind Gyan led to a whole series of excellent chances for Ghana. They passed the ball beautiful and were quick and smart and first to every fifty-fifty ball.
Just as most of us were thinking, 'it's worrying they haven't scored when as they're so on top' they promptly did score. And it was an effing blinder. Sulley Muntari picked the ball up in the Uruguay half and, with no-one anywhere near him, he took a touch, then another, moved into space and from about thirty five yards he hits a sweet left-foot shot that curled away from a badly-positioned Fernando Muslera and flew into the corner. Africa - and the ITV studio - went absolutely mental.
The second-half was again, if anything, even better. Ghana started in the ascendancy but a stunning free-kick by Diego Forlan levelled things up after ten minutes. After that, if was 'you have an attack, we'll have an attack' as the game swung from end to end in a very attractive and exciting way. There were no more goals, though and so we got thirty more minutes. And for once, that wasn't a chore! Even it it did take Jim Beglin until five minutes from the end of extra time before he found an excuse for a 'beam me up, Scotti' joke. Again, the game swung backwards and forward, first Uruguay having the upper hand, then the Africans coming back strongly.
Penalties looked certain when with, literally, the last kick of the game a scramble in the box ended with Suarez handling on the line. Red card. Penalty. Up stepped Gyan ... and hit the bar. I repeat, penalties looked certain. Crikey, talk about drama: Forlan was faultless. Gyan made no mistake second time around. Great penalty - top corner. Victorino, likewise, was clinical. Appiah, off a short run, also put it in the corner. Scotti drilled in low and Kingson managed to dive over it. Mensah the Mackem, off a one-paced run, hit it straight at Muslera. Wretched. Maxi Pereira's arse fell out and he skied it over the bar. Worse than wretched! Adiya's effort was saved too. Do either of you guys want to win this thing? Abreu walked up to take his kick like a man of his way to the gallows. He was cheeky, he chipped it. And Uruguay were in the semi-finals. The crowd went silent. Back at the studio, Chiles was a bastard disgrace, blatantly doing away with any notion of balance or impartiality and whinging about Ghana having been 'cheated.' Yes, it was hand ball. Yes, the lad did it deliberately. He got got sent off, what more did you want, a public flogging? Hang on, didn't Chiles used to be English with a side order of Croatian? Where did the Ghana streak come from? Whilst Marcel Desailly seemed on the very of bursting into tears (hang on, didn't he used to be French?). Townsend (who's never been remotely Irish) wittered on about rubbish, as usual. It was utterly sickening. We went back to Accra where Neddy was talking about how the Ghana fans had accepted defeat with dignity, something his ITV colleagues could learn a thing or two from.
So anyway, two of the best matches of the tournament on the same day. Like London buses, you want for ages for one to turn up then two come along at once.
Goals: 128
Red Cards: 15
The Netherlands vs Brazil
ITV started their coverage with the wholly expected 'Pele and Cruyff montage' before Andy Townsend started talking and I switched over, quickly, to the women's cricket on Sky Sports until he'd stopped. 'Oranges and lemons,' noted Peter Drury in a rather sweeping and grandiose scene-setting piece in which he noted 'a game, not for hard facts but for the imagination.' Well, hopefully. I had a feeling before hand that this was either going to be the game of the tournament or the biggest single disappointment of it. There would be, you felt, little or middle ground. And, that's exactly how it proved. The first half was fabulous - or, at least, the Brazilians were. The Dutch simply never got going.
Van Persie was anonymous. Sneijder was anonymous. Everything went through Robben who, it seemed, has chosen today for his worst game in a good couple of years. By contrast, when the blue shirts swept forward, you sensed that danger could come from anywhere. It took them ten minutes to find a chink in the Dutch armour. Melo's pass found Robinho who, unchallenged, ran through to score. After that, it was all Brazil, the only black moment for them coming when Dunga's unhappiness at Michel Bastos getting a yellow card caused him to give his dugout a damned good fisting. Total football? Yeah. It was. The Dutch were being outplayed. Totally. If ever they needed Van Marwijk to get out a big stick and start giving some massive egos a damned good hiding at half-time, today was that day. And then, out of absolutely nothing, the Dutch equalised. I didn't see that one coming - and neither, it would seem, did Julio Cesar! Wesley Sneijder curled over a left-footed free-kick from the Dutch right and Cesar, usually so reliable, came for it, flapped at it and the ball clipped the top of Felipe Melo's head before creeping into the corner. Game, as they say, very much on. Interestingly, just before the goal, Brazil should probably have been down to ten men as Bastos yet again kicked Robben up aheight having already been booked. The - otherwise very impressive - Japanese referee, however, gave him the benefit of the doubt, much to Van Persie's obvious chagrin.Brazil has bossed the game for just about the whole of the first fifty five minute but, suddenly, they found themselves behind. Robben sent over a corner from the right, Dirk Kuyt flicked it on at the near post and there was Wesley Sneijder at the back to head it into the corner. Incredible. Unbelievable. Spirit of '74. Get yer Ajax and yer Wims out for the lads. Suddenly, less welcome reminders of that match at Dortmund in '74 were dragged into focus again, when Felipe Melo had a mad Luis Pereira-moment and stamped on Robben for no obvious reason. A headstrong fragment of stupidity that earned him a deserved straight red card.
Forget any idea about this being a disappointment, this was, indeed, the match of the tournament, by miles. Brazil threw caution to the four winds and bravely mounted wave after wave of attacks with the Dutch sitting back but breaking intelligently with pace. It was thrilling stuff. The sort of final that we always hope for but never get. As the Dutch took control of the midfield, Brazil lost their shape and, with it, some of their composure although you always sensed they were good enough to go down the other end and score if they could only keep their heads. Van Persie went off five minutes from the end and, this time, didn't throw his dummy out of the pram. In the last five minutes nails were bitten, emotions tested, last-ditch tackles made. Jeez, if only the World Cup was always like this.It's an Oranj world tonight! And one little boy who fell in love with Dutch football in the summer of 1974 could not, possibly, be happier.
Ghana v Uruguay
After a match as dramatic as this afternoon's, almost anything was going to be an anti-climax. Almost anything, I said. ITV did their best - although, inevitably, their best included the hugely patronising spectacle of sending one of their reporters - Ned Boulting - to Accra to sample some of the local 'colour.' How decidedly colonialist, old chaps. 'One of the first rules of sports broadcasting is not to show any favouritism,' noted Clive Tyldesley. Hang on, Clive Tyldesley has always shown favouritism. Usually to Manchester United. Often when they're not even playing. Anyway, he continued by doing exactly that, drawing a tenuous link to various Britons with some vague Ghanaian heritage (Dizzee Rascal, for one). 'It's nice to have one English-speaking country left in the tournament.' Oh well, that's all right then. It's also eighty percent of the world's population gone in a sentence.
Nice bit of casual racism there, you crass Little Englander, you. After Chiles' thoroughly rotten tongue-rimming earlier where he'd, basically, told anybody intending on supporting Uruguay ('cast in the role of pantomime villain' said Tyldesley) that they were traitors, despite my own hope that Ghana would win, as i like an underdog as much as the next man, I was on the point of switching allegiance. But then ... it's Uruguay. Yeah. Even their mothers find them hard to love! Tyldesley finished his hatefully one-sided opening piece by concluding that the vuvuzelas were likely to be going some in the stadium. 'If you're not a fan, this might be a night for turning the sound down.' The first thing he's said that actually makes sense in about a decade.Uruguay were the better team for most of the opening twenty minutes or so but an enforced change (Scotti for Lugano) combined with Boeteng having an absolute blinder playing in the hole behind Gyan led to a whole series of excellent chances for Ghana. They passed the ball beautiful and were quick and smart and first to every fifty-fifty ball.
Just as most of us were thinking, 'it's worrying they haven't scored when as they're so on top' they promptly did score. And it was an effing blinder. Sulley Muntari picked the ball up in the Uruguay half and, with no-one anywhere near him, he took a touch, then another, moved into space and from about thirty five yards he hits a sweet left-foot shot that curled away from a badly-positioned Fernando Muslera and flew into the corner. Africa - and the ITV studio - went absolutely mental.The second-half was again, if anything, even better. Ghana started in the ascendancy but a stunning free-kick by Diego Forlan levelled things up after ten minutes. After that, if was 'you have an attack, we'll have an attack' as the game swung from end to end in a very attractive and exciting way. There were no more goals, though and so we got thirty more minutes. And for once, that wasn't a chore! Even it it did take Jim Beglin until five minutes from the end of extra time before he found an excuse for a 'beam me up, Scotti' joke. Again, the game swung backwards and forward, first Uruguay having the upper hand, then the Africans coming back strongly.
Penalties looked certain when with, literally, the last kick of the game a scramble in the box ended with Suarez handling on the line. Red card. Penalty. Up stepped Gyan ... and hit the bar. I repeat, penalties looked certain. Crikey, talk about drama: Forlan was faultless. Gyan made no mistake second time around. Great penalty - top corner. Victorino, likewise, was clinical. Appiah, off a short run, also put it in the corner. Scotti drilled in low and Kingson managed to dive over it. Mensah the Mackem, off a one-paced run, hit it straight at Muslera. Wretched. Maxi Pereira's arse fell out and he skied it over the bar. Worse than wretched! Adiya's effort was saved too. Do either of you guys want to win this thing? Abreu walked up to take his kick like a man of his way to the gallows. He was cheeky, he chipped it. And Uruguay were in the semi-finals. The crowd went silent. Back at the studio, Chiles was a bastard disgrace, blatantly doing away with any notion of balance or impartiality and whinging about Ghana having been 'cheated.' Yes, it was hand ball. Yes, the lad did it deliberately. He got got sent off, what more did you want, a public flogging? Hang on, didn't Chiles used to be English with a side order of Croatian? Where did the Ghana streak come from? Whilst Marcel Desailly seemed on the very of bursting into tears (hang on, didn't he used to be French?). Townsend (who's never been remotely Irish) wittered on about rubbish, as usual. It was utterly sickening. We went back to Accra where Neddy was talking about how the Ghana fans had accepted defeat with dignity, something his ITV colleagues could learn a thing or two from.
So anyway, two of the best matches of the tournament on the same day. Like London buses, you want for ages for one to turn up then two come along at once.
Goals: 128
Red Cards: 15
