Perder

Cone will be starting at striker for Seleção on Saturday.

I DON’T need to give any ink to that wretched Argentina-Netherlands game. Congrats to them for essentially tying for 2nd place in this tourney, since it will go down as a 0:0 draw in the books, and since neither of them will stand much of a chance come Sunday, in my opinion, and it was a shame that one team had to win. There was really only one game that mattered this week in the World Cup, the result of which was rather seismic in nature.

Valhalla is Burning
The record will show that the game took place in Belo Horizonte, but it may as well have been Bayreuth. Such was the catastrophic nature of Brazil’s defeat that it seemed more like something out of opera. It didn’t seem real. In the length of a Wagnerian aria, more than six decades of Brazilian mythology was razed to rubble. With each additional goal, another wall collapsed, and by the time the Germans scored the fifth, some 29’ into the match, even they were stunned at what they had done.

Brazil’s first half on Tuesday was the single-worst 45 minutes of soccer I have ever seen at this level. Even the Tahitians were better than that a year ago, and would have done better against the Germans than Brazil did. Tahiti lost all three games at the Confed Cup last summer and gave up 24 goals in the process, but a good number of those goals were attributable to fatigue late in the matches. (Having a goalkeeper with lettuce hands didn’t help.) The Brazilians couldn’t even use fatigue as an excuse. Their pre-made excuses for defeat – no Neymar, no Thiago Silva – went out the window as well. There were no excuses left by the half-hour mark. Brazil weren’t, and aren’t, any good. For Brazil – mighty Brazil! – to be behind by five goals after 29 minutes was the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen on the pitch. Take another good look at it, because I reckon you will never see anything quite like that again in your lifetime.

Full marks to the Germans for being ruthless and methodical and clinical, of course – but Brazil were so bad that the Germans would have been disappointed in themselves if it wasn’t 5-0 at half. The Germans couldn’t even muster up much of a celebration after scoring the 5th goal. They seemed almost as shocked as the spectators at just how awful their opponents were.

The narrative of this game is, and always will be, about just how terrible Brazil were. The first German goal was a set piece on a corner so basic that it probably isn’t even listed in the German repertoire because it can’t possibly work. Müller moved about 10 yards to his left (and not particularly swiftly), was unmarked and the ball fell at his feet. That play doesn’t work in U-13 soccer, much less in the semifinal of the World Cup. Marcelo should probably change his nickname to Toast after getting burned so badly on the second goal, a fairly simply worked give and go. What was shocking was just how easy it was for the Germans to score again and again. Fernardinho’s giveaway which led to the 4th goal, where he was leisurely strolling towards his own goal and had Kroos pick his pocket, was noteworthy in that it was the only proof offered all day that Fernardinho was actually on the pitch, for as bad as the Brazilian defense was, the midfield may have actually been worse. (Here is a good tactical analysis of what a shambles the Brazilians were, although I think the commentator is a bit harsh on Julio Cesar, who easily could have conceded 10 goals with the way his defense hung him out to dry.)

And as I say, Brazil had several ready-made excuses were they to suffer a 1:0 or 2:1 defeat – blame it on Neymar’s injury, blame it on Thiago Silva’s suspension, blame it on reckless Colombians and clueless Spanish referees – but this defeat was so thorough and so comprehensive that even those excuses rang hollow after half an hour. And along with those excuses, out went the Brazilian mystique, as well. Brazil hadn’t lost a meaningful match in 39 years at home, and hadn’t lost any sort of a match at home in more than a decade. As I said the other day, the danger comes when you start to believe in your own mythology. Not only have the Brazilians believed in it all this time, they’ve actively flaunted it, and used the mystique of all-mighty Brazil as a weapon on the pitch.

I’ve been watching the World Cup since 1982, and something which was struck me in nearly every single tournament is the fear the Brazilians instill in their opponents. Teams play extraordinarily cautiously against them, terrified of Seleção unleashing some astounding display of skill against them which will lead to a rout. That fear has always been as big a weapon as the skills itself – skills which the likes of Romario and Bebeto and Ronaldo and Ronaldinho actually possessed, but very rarely needed to show. Brazil basically won a World Cup in 1994 simply through showing up and seeing their opponents cower in the corner for 90 minutes (or, in the case of Italy in the final, 120 minutes). Teams weren’t just playing the 11 Brazilians on the pitch, but also playing Pelé and Garrincha and Jairzinho at the same time. I remember very nearly screaming at the TV in 1998, wondering why no one would dare press against a Brazilian side that was so clearly weak in defense. (It was the Norwegians, of all teams, who finally figured this out, as they finally said the hell with it when down a goal and threw caution to the wind, promptly scoring two within about 5 minutes and pulling a historic upset.) Unsurprisingly, the two sides during all those years who’ve shown Brazil the least amount of respect – the French and the Dutch – have produced some of the best results against them. The French have knocked Brazil out of the World Cup three times; the Dutch, meanwhile, knocked them out four years ago, and their games with Brazil in 1994 and 1998 were the best matches of those tourneys, games where they brought out the best in the Brazilians. There is some value to football idealism after all, I suppose – both France and the Netherlands are going to do whatever they feel like, opposition be damned. Neither has ever been afraid to go out there and punch the bully in the mouth.

And neither have the Germans, for that matter. The Germans really have no history against Brazil at the World Cup, the two teams somewhat amazingly having met only once before. Since the Germans had no history v. Brazil, the also had no reason to fear. And among the many narratives the World Cup has put forth in its history, a narrative played out in Belo Horizonte which has been around even longer than Brazil’s magic touch. Be it the Hungarians in 1954, the Dutch in 1974 or the French in 1982 and 1986, the Germans have always been the destroyers of others’ dreams. The Germans are the ultimate buzzkill. As my Dutch brother-in-law joked after the game, this is why you never invite the Germans to the party.

And FIFA viewed the 2014 World Cup in Brazil as the greatest of parties, the greatest of celebrations of the sport in the country that loves it the most. Suffice to say, the party hasn’t really gone to plan. The locals didn’t want to play along, as it turned out – we’ve seen an endless stream of protests surrounding the World Cup in Brazil over the past year, often turning violent. One of the best descriptions I’ve heard of Brazil came from Franklin Foer, author of the book How Soccer Explains the World, in which he calls Brazil ‘the bizarro version of the United States,’ a massive, diverse and resource-rich country which failed to become a global hegemon. In that book, Foer delves into the idea of the ‘Top Hats’ as they are known, cronies and shysters who run Brazilian soccer and who have exploited the native Brazilian love of football over the years for their own selfish political and economic gain. And once the World Cup was awarded to Brazil, every Top Hat and would-be Top Hat had their hand out. Stadium and infrastructure construction for the World Cup was rampant with corruption, cost overruns and political strongarming. It was business as usual in Brazil, and the people who took to the streets in protest had finally had enough. (This excellent New Yorker piece from January delves into the mess surrounding stadium construction in São Paulo, which was never quite finished.) They weren’t protesting Brazilian football. They were protesting the business of Brazilian football, one which had just come to assume that Brazilian people would go along with anything put forth, their love of the beautiful game treated as if it were some sort of drug by political and business officials who acted like a cartel.

Much like they just stuck a bunch of guys in yellow jerseys, ran them out on the pitch, and assumed that just because the jerseys said Brazil across the front, the team would win another World Cup in and of itself. Not be good enough to win one, mind you. Just show up and win.

Brazil has always been able to find a convenient excuse or two when Seleção have failed. If only they had “played the Brazilian way,” they would’ve succeeded. If only they’d returned to the glory of Samba football and the 4-2-4, instead of trying to beat European sides with European tactics. Truth is, there are lots of European tactics instilled in Brazilian footballers these days, seeing how so many Brazilian footballers are playing in Europe. With 1,200 Brazilian expats on the payrolls of international clubs worldwide, it could be argued that footballers are one of Brazil’s most lucrative exports. And if you think it is harsh of me to think of players as being little more than commodities, it certainly hasn’t stopped them from thinking that way. But it is probably just as well that players leave Brazil, since the domestic game is such a mess. Players would rather play in places like the Faeroe Islands than put up with a never-ending Brazilian domestic season and a constant string of promissary notes come payday. Even the fans are tired of it – Série A in Brazil, the top division in the cradle of the world’s footballing talent, draws 5,000 fans per game fewer than an MLS game on average. The basic infrastructure of the Brazilian game has been rotting for decades now, and it finally all caught up to them on Tuesday night in Belo Horizonte.

Brazil needs a restart. Scolari will certainly be gone when this is over, and he should be. His 2002 World Cup title was far more attributable to talent (three world players of the year on the roster) and a weak tourney field than anything he did, and he had Cristiano Ronaldo and Figo and the remains of a so-called ‘golden generation’ on his Portugal team in 2006. He is like Phil Jackson in that regard – a guy who has created a track record of coaching success through not screwing up marvelous talent he was given. Expecting Scolari to coach this group of players to a title in 2014 was sort of like expecting Jackson to coach the Atlanta Hawks. Phil has always been choosy with his jobs for a reason. Scolari will be gone and, honestly, everyone in the Brazilian F.A. should be gone with it. The whole program needs a redo. The sooner some of these idiots are gone, the sooner Brazil can start moving back towards a place at the top of the sport again.

And the fans will ultimately be forgiving of the players, I suspect, some of whom should be able to rehabilitate their Seleção careers. In the meantime, I would be inclined to clear the bench for the consolation game with the Dutch, let the young players and the backups play, given that the ones who took the field in Belo Horizonte are likely to be mercilessly booed. Which they should be, quite honestly. And maybe that Cone kid mentioned above will prove to be a good striker. He certainly could be no worse up front than what they have been getting. That Brazil cannot score the ball and is so obviously bereft of offensive ideas is absolutely depressing.

The Germans, in the end, may have done the Brazilians a favor. This loss was a long time coming, and the magnitude of it was such that major changes will have to come. And it was good that it happened fast and happened big – better that way than to lose close and continue to live in denial. I think losing like that may come to be viewed, several decades from now, as the best thing that could’ve happened to Brazil. Maybe now they’ll clean up their act, get over 1950 and 1982, stop pretending they are untouchable, and root out some of the rot and the corruption related to the game which has turned off players, fans and everyone else in the country. Everyone else in the world, for that matter – a great Brazil is great for the game. Brazil are always the people’s choice, the neutral’s choice. Brazilian success is always viewed by sporting public outside of countries whose names rhyme with Bargentina as a sign that the game is in great shape. That ideal of Brazilian greatness and superiority was, in fact, earned long ago. It was earned with three World Cup titles from 1958-1970 and a steady stream of players possessing vision and imagination and joy on the pitch which had never been seen nor expressed before. Even in one of their most dubious defeats, this quixotic endeavour from 1982, the Brazilians made many friends with their Rebel Without a Cause sort of spirit. Right or wrong, our notion of the beautiful game is firmly rooted on the beaches of Brazil. It is now up to the Brazilians to rebuild from the rubble and make the game beautiful once again.