BEAUTIFUL CHAOS: The Socceroos and the 2014 World Cup

by Adam Peacock

  ‘Then, the next day, I take the car and go 1300 kilometres to Rio.’

  Which brings us to his frantic search for a park on Copacabana the day before Germany’s quarter-final against France. Michael trusts the van. Whether it was built before or after the Berlin Wall fell is another matter, but he doesn’t care, it’s a Mercedes. Passt schön! In other words, no worries, it’ll work until the end of time. As for the flags, they’re nothing special, he says. Just a football fan getting into the spirit of things. Most do that by covering themselves in national colours, not a van big enough to sleep a six-a-side team. The only thing not World Cup about it is a Fortuna Dusseldorf scarf that hangs from the (redundant) rear-vision mirror. It’s Michael’s club, a team with an Australian influence thanks to Robbie Kruse, who has since moved on to Bayer Leverkusen and sadly didn’t make the World Cup due to a knee injury.

  ‘Yeah, Robbie was a very good player, very small and very fast and very special.’ No kidding. The Socceroos could have done with him in Brazil. Michael isn’t sure what Fortuna’s current Aussie, Ben Halloran, has to offer because he’s been in the van half a world away. He’s ecstatic though that his daughter Jana has been able to join him in Rio. They plan to spend the next 10 days together.

  The stress of finding a spot to park has disappeared, as stress quickly does around here. Mellowed by the salt air and late afternoon heat, with his English vocabulary stretched beyond its limits, Michael has one final point to make.

  ‘I’m sorry, but Germany must win!’ He then breaks into hysterical laughter. And with that, nursing two unopened beers he’s been holding for longer than he wants to, Michael says goodbye. He’s off with his daughter to sit on the beach. Living day-to-day, today was heading towards defeat. One stroke of luck turned it into a resounding victory.

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  When Portuguese explorer Pedro Álvares Cabral bumped into land in 1500, stopping his boats at what would become Porto Seguro, or ‘Safe Port’, the spectacular north-east coast Brazilian coast was opened to the world. Five hundred years later, and 30 kilometres north near the fishing village of Santo André, another settlement has popped up, slightly more luxurious than the original. Camp Bahia, a ready-made, secluded resort perfect for relaxation and preparation – complete with pool, gym, spacious rooms and a football pitch within walking distance – was created out of nothing. The German Federation didn’t pay for it – a Munich businessman Cristian Hirmer was said to underwrite the project – but they certainly had input into how it was built. The location was important – in the warm north of the country where all three German Group matches would be held.

  ‘Bearing in mind the size of the country and the considerable distances between each tournament venue, it was important for us to minimise the strain of travelling to and from matches as much as possible,’ German team manager, and handy player himself, Oliver Bierhoff, told the world media.

  In comparison, rivals the Netherlands stayed in a high-rise hotel overlooking Ipanema Beach in the middle of Rio’s tourist strip. Stepping outside the hotel created a circus with fans kept back by police barriers 24/7.

  Away from the pitch, all teams strive to perfect what is controllable. But Germany gave new meaning to the word ‘perfect’. In the two years leading up to the 2014 tournament, 50 university students in Cologne assembled a vast database of information about all possible rivals.

  ‘The sports students in Cologne have been studying in great detail our opponents and put every play they’ve run, every newspaper article on them, and everything about them out there under the microscope and made all that data available to us,’ revealed assistant coach Hansi Flick before the semi-final.

  According to reports from German newspapers, quoting the man in charge, Professor Jürgen Buschmann, that data included how players react in pressure situations, their preferred routes, how they respond when fouled, what gets under skin and how they sprint for the ball. All teams do detailed analysis on opposition teams. None has 50 boffins back at a statistical nirvana scratching for any tiny detail that could expose a weakness.

  The Germans want to minimise the need for luck which has made a habit of deserting them at crucial moments. In the last three World Cups and past two European Championships they made at least the semi-finals – but won nothing.

  The 2014 iteration, however, oozes quality. The majority of the 23-man squad is the product of a system implemented after the embarrassing Euro 2000, when they crashed out in the Group Stages without a win. In response, every side in the top two divisions of club football set up a Youth Academy and, importantly, the coaches were taught how to enliven the vision. According to a report in the UK Guardian newspaper in 2013, Germany had 28,400 coaches with a B Licence (the minimum level for youth coaches in the country). England had 1759.

  Is it any surprise then that England exited another World Cup after just two games? The manner in which they bowed out was a recurring theme. They play okay, show glimpses of brilliance, but are ultimately let down by a lack of quality. They contest the Premier League, the best and most watched league in the world – with good reason given the excitement and breathless action – and although it makes all and sundry extremely wealthy, how it is played blunts even the best of abilities by the end of a long season. It is fast, physical and without respite. The players don’t have a break over winter, like the German league and most other European nations’ leagues. By May, muscles and minds scream for a break.

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  Germany have exceptional unity, made clear by a handful of words from Per Mertesacker. The big defender, owner of 102 caps for his nation, played the first four matches before being ‘dropped’ for the quarter-final.

  ‘Coach, if it helps the team, I’m happy,’ Mertesacker told Joachim Low.

  Mertesacker made way for a returning Mats Hummels, who scored the goal to beat France. It helped. Along with Hummels, Sami Khedira also returned for the France quarter-final, so Philip Lahm went from midfield to right-back, thus keeping Jerome Boateng in central defence and taking away the need for Mertesacker. It made Germany a more dangerous proposition across the park. It helped. And in the games that define every major tournament – the final three – Germany conceded one goal, a last-minute mercy concession in the 7-1 obliteration of Brazil. So yeah, Per Mertesacker’s selfless attitude definitely helped the team.

  Other squads, meanwhile, namely those from Africa, are distracted by what their organisation isn’t doing for them. Ghana’s federation has to a charter a plane from Accra to deliver $3 million in cash to pay their players what is owed to them. Nigeria fail to train the day before their Round of 16 loss to France, sighting unpaid monies owing. Cameroon were a basket case before they left Yaounde, refusing to depart on time without more money. The acronyms CBA and CAF are close alphabetically, but theoretically, Collective Bargaining Agreements and the Confederation of African Football are total strangers. It’s sad the cash FIFA assigns to each qualifying nation turns into a football version of ransom money.

  The Germans only have to worry about playing, which they do better and better as the tournament progresses, negotiating the subtle changes and patterns as the joyful openness of the Group Stages gives way to the archetypal tension of the knockout phase.

  The highlight of the early matches was the express desire for teams to regain possession as quickly as possible then advance to the other end of the park with the same urgency. The result was a number of games played at breakneck speed with boredom forcibly removed from the guest list. Spain has a bit to do with the way it is done. Teams have worked out how to overpower that style of possession-based football. But their inherent, almost psychotic manner of hunting down the ball and getting it back mixed with powerful bursts forward of counter-attacks is a joy to watch.

  Germany negotiate their way through their Group games against Portugal, Ghana and USA, all played in the muggy north. Neighbours the Netherlands, Belgium and France also progress comfortably, somewhat of a revelation given Europea
n nations have traditionally struggled away from their own continent in World Cups past (Spain in 2010 was the first European nation to win a title away from Europe). But when the heat is on, when the games change complexion, when the strong points of opposition are taken into consideration more than trying to attack the weak points, the Netherlands, Belgium and France all fall down.

  The Dutch began the tournament with five goals against Spain but end it with zero goals in four hours, careful against Costa Rica and Argentina, surviving then losing on penalties.

  Belgium blinked too. Eden Hazard, by far their most creative force, was substituted against Argentina in the Round of 16 after a quiet 75 minutes. At 1-0 down, it didn’t lose them the match, but it did make it impossible to win.

  France would run into Germany and wither painfully on a brutally hot Rio afternoon. Not in a spectacular manner, but in a way which would foster regret, notably from Karim Benzema and his last minute strike that was denied by the strong arm of Manuel Neuer.

  While not the attention-inducer of the Brazil 7-1, the test of trying to break down a much-improved France at the Maracanã showcases everything Germany hoped to develop all those years ago in their football overhaul. They are just so smart. They make it easy for their teammate to make an easy pass. Hide and Seek this is not; they don’t go to places where it is nearly impossible to find, requiring a miracle ball to reach its target. Those passes are made with the next one or two in mind.

  Two of their veterans lead the way. Of all 736 players at the World Cup, captain Philip Lahm must have the highest football IQ. A misplaced pass from Lahm is like Albert Einstein stuffing up his 10x table. The timing of his runs from right-back, his decision to cross, cut back or retain and recycle, the pass he directs to a teammate to make it easy for him to make the right decision, are all flawless. He’s Bobby Fischer with boots.

  As is the veteran Miroslav Klose. He gets headlines for his goal-scoring ability, and seeing no-one else on the planet has scored 16 at World Cups, it’s fair enough. All 16 were scored from the penalty spot or closer, lending weight to a claim he just parks himself in one area and waits for the action to come to him. Nein. Klose works in and around the opposition back four, hounding them when they have it, endlessly dropping into space offering options when his team has it. He makes looping-curved run after looping-curved run, which must pain his 36-year-old frame more and more with every step. Much of the time he doesn’t get the ball, creating space for others to move into, but when he does, it is utilised proficiently, most likely with a simple pass to one of the advancing midfielders, before he loops off again to cause more indecision. It is tireless, it is gut-busting, it is thankless to many except those who matter most – his coach and teammates.

  Greece is a team and nation that continues to operate despite deficit. In Brazil, they get out of their Group with a -2 goal difference by squeezing everything out of their collective talent through a desire to not let each other down. They are gone against Costa Rica, but every journalist on a deadline suffers the double blow of a late re-write and spelling Sokratis Papastathopolous correctly when he scores in the 91st minute. They would lose on penalties, but gain admirers for their tenacity.

  Costa Rica, before knocking Greece out, overran their fancied Group opponents Italy and Uruguay with their sheer will, but they can’t unlock the door against a timid the Netherlands in the quarter-finals and lose out to a genius manoeuvre from Louis van Gaal, who swapped goalkeepers in the last minute of extra time, bringing on the albatross wingspan of Tim Krul to deny Los Ticos on penalties.

  Algeria, no team more passionate and vibrant, advance to the Group Stage for the first time ever and celebrate as if they have won the whole thing. Which is fair enough, because in their minds they have, before falling in the Round of 16 to two extra-time goals from Germany.

  All three – Greece, Costa Rica, Algeria – worked tirelessly covering up deficiencies with commitment on the outer extreme of plausible. Yet in the knockout stages where they were matched in that department, a dash of quality wasn’t there when required.

  Unlike the Germans. Never mind the starting line-ups, of the six players Germany brought off the bench in the knockout stages, only one, Christoph Kramer, didn’t play for his team in the UEFA Champions League season leading into the World Cup. The other five all started matches in the world’s premier club competition, and the half-dozen players have a combined transfer value of around US$150 million.

  How crucial is this depth? The World Cup was won by a goal from a player off the bench, Mario Götze of Bayern Munich, who manufactured an instinctive strike, chesting down a cross from another substitute, André Schürrle of Chelsea. Yeah, crucial.

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  So Germany controlled all the controllables, living up to their stereotypical strengths. Smart, organised and prepared. Tactically, the players were expertly taught and astute enough to carry out the plan; they worked as hard as anyone and had the quality required en masse. Still, even when all of those factors combine with perfect synchronicity, it is not enough. One extra ingredient is required. The pinch of salt, if you like. Luck. The unaccountable element evident in everyday life when success is apparent. From 2002, it had deserted Germany in big tournaments. In 2014, it returned when they really needed it. With the world’s eyes glued to the most famous patch of football turf, and the world’s most watched match; with Michael from Dusseldorf somewhere in the crowd; with thousands of delirious Argentinians singing the song of the World Cup, there were two moments from which Germany escaped through no plan of their own.

  At 0-0, 21 minutes in, Toni Kroos inexplicably headed the ball backwards to no-one in particular. Minding his own business, meandering back from a fruitless run in behind the defence, was Gonzalo Higuaín, the Argentinian striker. He sprang to life when he realised possession was his, turning sharply to meet the ball and bearing down on goal. Higuaín had scored 122 goals for Real Madrid before Napoli bought him for US$45 million. He now had the freedom of the Maracanã to make himself a global phenomenon. And he shanked it. Tried to put his foot through it, like he had thousands of times before, and just stuffed it up royally. The ball dribbled harmlessly away for a goal kick.

  In the second half, still at 0-0, the world’s greatest player, Leo Messi, found himself with the metre of unrestricted space he’d craved all night. From a 45-degree angle, he lined up with the most trustworthy left leg in football. German keeper Neuer, imperious for a month, stood tall, ready for the execution. Which fired wide. The ball rocketed across the face of goal, Neuer beaten but so too the far post. By chance, two of them butchered by men you least suspect capable. Luck.

  Michael from Dusseldorf would agree. The effort and organisation that went into his trip of a lifetime in the van covered in flags was a day-by-day operation in transit across a huge, mystical country. One late afternoon on Copacabana, he got lucky. One glorious night at the Maracanã, his country got lucky. Can’t be winning without it.

  German version of the Brazilian flag flying proudly on Copacabana Beach.

  10.

  ONE DAY

  One day, Australia won’t have the reputation as an afterthought in world football.

  One day, England’s football authorities will realise a long Premier League season without a mid-season break into World Cup competition spells d-i-s-a-s-t-e-r.

  One day, more of the world will realise the Brazilian way of life is better in the long run. Don’t worry so much about tomorrow when there’s fun to be had tonight.

  One day, an Australian goal like the one from Tim Cahill won’t finish sixth in a public vote, because Australia won’t be that afterthought.

  One day, proud his proclamation of inter-planetary football has come true, Sepp Blatter will see Mars win the 2230 tournament after a 3-1 defeat of China. Serving his 58th term as FIFA president from a remote-controlled portable ice chamber, Blatter will present the trophy with Mars President, Marvin the 16th.

  One day, someone will try to copy
Alzirao. And fail. There’s only one place on earth like that joint.

  One day, there’ll be a better World Cup song than the Argentinian version of ‘Bad Moon Rising’. And it sure as hell won’t be official.

  One day, big music companies will realise as good as their music may be, the time for playing it is not when players stand in the tunnel before a World Cup match. Nothing is better than what rains down from the voices in the stands.

  One day, Brazil may do more for its desperately poor and fix its favelas. Only if it wants to.

  One day, there will be a TV commercial worse than the one featuring Hulk, Samuel Eto’o, Gary Cahill and Maya Yoshida playing in a band in front of Axl Rose, promoting a beer. And the sad thing is someone will be paid lots for creating that one, too.

  One day, they’ll find another use for the Argentinian drink Fernet. Like stripping paint off metal.

  One day, Australia won’t be going to a World Cup to try and surprise. Opposition will be hoping to surprise us.

  One day, Vicente del Bosque will realise one of his rare mistakes was to leave David Villa out of Spain’s first two Group matches in Brazil. Vicente del Bosque is a smart fella. Surely that day has already happened.

  One day, Leo Messi won’t be able to take off at blinding speed, leaving a trail of hapless humans in his wake. And football will be the poorer for it.

  One day, Germany will forget to be organised. For one day.

  One day, everyone from Uruguay who supported Luis Suárez will randomly bite someone from another country. Dentists and jaw surgeons in Uruguay will profit.

  One day, FIFA might be remembered for what it does, not who it does.

  One day, Brazil might have inflation again at 6800 per cent like it did back in 1990. Bags not being there.

  One day, a trophy might be built to be bigger than the 7-foot one in Fluminense’s museum, just for shits and giggles.