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.

Everyone Sucks

THE LOSE has been doing studious research in the run-up to the World Cup semifinals, some of which may or may not involve the use of some fine products from The Official Distillery of In Play Lose, but after going through a number of foreign press services scouring for bits of information, I’ve come to the conclusion that you shouldn’t watch tomorrow’s semifinal between Brazil and Germany, nor should you watch Argentina and the Netherlands on Wednesday, and don’t even bother with the final on Sunday because everyone involved sucks. The Brazilians have abandoned the beautiful game, the Dutch are unattractive, the Argentines consist of Messi and 10 stiffs lacking any sort of expression, and the Germans are back to being nothing more than ruthless, unimaginative automatons. And this is the ‘best’ the game has to offer, which speaks to a sorry state of affairs. Clearly, it’s the worst of all possible worlds, seeing the sport reduced to this sort of rubbish.

It’s amusing to read this sort of stuff, especially when you consider the pedigree on display over the next few days. The four teams remaining in the World Cup have 10 championships and 19 finals appearances between them. They are among the greatest footballing nations on earth. Yet when it comes to the mythology of the game, no one taking the pitch in the next couple of days can ever quite match up.

Even if that mythology is, quite frankly, a crock of shit.

Let’s get it out of the way here and kill some idols right off the bat. Argentina has never won a World Cup where it didn’t cheat – either on the pitch or off of it. The Dutch ideal of Total Football apparently involved three minutes of brilliance followed by 87 minutes of patting yourselves on the back about how great you are, and not bothering to, oh, you know, win the World Cup final. (Today is the 40th anniversary of the single-most written about soccer match in history. This Guardian article from 2008 is probably a bit more deconstructivist than need be, but you get the point.) The great Brazilian teams of yore occasionally did stuff like this on their way to greatness (hint: everyone does). The supposedly great German side had become so cynical and downright loathsome by the 1980s that it was a sure sign of the need to reform the game when, in 1990, the Germans found themselves to be the most likable team in the tournament. (Albeit one lead by a certain striker who tended to act like he was shot whenever someone breathed upon him.)

A bit hyperbolical of me? Well, sure, but so are all the myths of grandeur which came before. It should always be remembered that the French word histoire can mean both ‘history’ and ‘story,’ not differentiating between that which is real and that which is fabricated. The truth is that winning is an ugly business a lot of the time. Winners write history – and also periodically go back and rewrite it, overlooking a few blemishes and inconvenient truths here and there.

(And it should be pointed out that losers write and rewrite history as well. In sport, no one rewrites history quite like the English, of course. A particularly grumpy curmudgeon of an Englishman said on ESPN FC the other day, soon after the 3 Lions exit from Brazil, that back in his day, England could have fielded two sides among the 10 best in the world. Given that England have failed to qualify more often than they’ve reached the semifinals in the last 48 years, I’m not sure exactly which era he’s talking about.)

The three great sporting pastimes on earth – soccer, baseball, and cricket – are all sports whose continuing to thrive, in some ways, is dependent upon the mythology of the past. All three also happen to be sports in which, in fact, not a whole lot actually happens in way of action. Because let’s be honest here, not much really does happen. A soccer game ends 0:0 or 1:0, while baseball and cricket feature bursts of action a few seconds in length followed by quite a few moments of everyone standing around. And yet there has probably been more literature written about those three sports than the rest of the pastimes on earth put together. When such small moments and small details prove to make a difference, those moments are magnified often beyond the point of comprehension. Just imagine the ramifications in Argentina in 1978, a tournament a military junta was attempting to use as a stamp of legitimacy, had the Dutch shot in the dying minutes not hit the post but tucked inside of it and given the Netherlands a shocking 2:1 victory in the final? It was a random moment in a game – and yet one which explodes metaphorically. When the whistle blows and the match is over, games invariably become the domain of commentators, writers, artisans and philosophers. (Indeed, the full quote from Sartre serving as this blog’s epigram reads, “In football, everything is complicated by the presence of the opposing team.”)

Listen to a baseball game sometime, actually listen to the game and tell me what it is that you hear. Is it the sport, or is it a narrative of the sport as revealed by a storyteller? I have no problems whatsoever stating that it is the latter, and that I grew up believing in the fiction of baseball. I grew up listening to Dave Niehaus, who was a phenomenal broadcaster and who could make any sort of game situation sound compelling. He could make even 100-loss Mariner teams worth following. It didn’t matter what the situation – once you tuned in, you didn’t want to turn the radio off. He had a mix of populism and eloquence about the game which was spellbinding. You could only imagine how someone which such command of the language and the ability to captivate an audience could’ve scared the hell out of you had he been telling ghost stories around a campfire. In the abstract, of course, the idea of listening to the Mariners was a completely hopeless and futile endeavour, and yet the story of every game, laid out for you like that, made you want to come back for more – and also made you foolishly think that somehow, some way, the team was going to actually improve. The Mariners were god awful most of the time, and going to the games in this empty concrete mushroom of a stadium was shocking in just how silent it was. At least listening to the broadcast gave you the same sort of enjoyment of having a good book to read, even if you didn’t like the ending.

And when you broadcast baseball, of course, you just fill in the gaps with stories of games gone by. In true absurdist Mariner fashion, those stories were usually hysterical – Niehaus had also been the broadcaster for some truly horrid California Angels teams, so all of his stories tended to lean towards the absurd. Listening to a Giants game here in San Francisco, meanwhile, is rife with stories of players who actually knew what they were doing, guys like Mays and McCovey and Marichal. Listening to cricket is baseball to the extreme, in that it would seem the entirety of the game is the stories of the past. I tried really hard to get into cricket when I lived in England, and I was just amazed listening to a broadcast of a 5-day test match in the West Indies where England were getting mercilessly thrashed in that the entirety of the broadcast basically consisted of telling old stories. There wasn’t anything new to report on the pitch – the West Indian opening partnership batted for about two days and scored something like 398 runs – so it was just one story after another about some heroic England bowler getting the Aussies all-out in 19(fill in the blank), or batting for a century vs. India in 19(fill in the blank), with the occasional “there’s a shot for four,” thrown in to keep you on your toes. I wondered sometimes if the script had been penned by the Royal Shakespeare Company, the whole endeavour simply a serialized radio show on the BBC. At times, it didn’t even seem like there was a game going on.

Soccer isn’t quite to that extreme, although if you ever read the commentary in a newspaper after a match, it sure makes it seem like even the dullest match was worth watching. To borrow my favourite XPFC from a previous post on this blog:

It’s hard to say which was greyer, the skies over the pitch in Aberystwyth or the action upon it, as XPFC were held goalless by 10-man Liverpool, the Merseysiders reduced by one when Suárez was giving his marching orders after 10 minutes, responding to being denied by the keeper Morgan’s ample reach by lashing out and biting him on the boot. Bassett-Bouchard produced some joy down the right flank for the home side early on, but his questions went unanswered, as XPFC’s lumbering forward Day was unable to make the most of early chances. Gerrard wrong footed Frentz in XPFC’s central defense but shot wide at the quarter hour mark. The stout defending which ensued permitted both goalkeepers ample time to learn Spanish and eat cheese sandwiches in lieu of any steady work. MacNeil’s clattering tackle in central defense just before the stroke of halftime perhaps should’ve earned the visitors a spot kick, but appeals went unheeded and play continued. The two sides lacked both ideas and the initiative to go forward after the interval, apart from the Venezuelan substitute del Solar attempting to rally the home side, providing some brightness with some dashing darts through the center of the pitch, only to see his final ball continue to go awry. The introduction of Pianowski up front provided a strong target for the Welsh XI, but the service in the final third was little more than crosses drooping like wilted lettuce, and Day’s final touch let him down a stroke from the death, missing a sitter as he shot wide from 5 yards. Disappointment for the home side, but truth be told any result other than a point taken for either side would have been an unjust one.

All that for a 0:0 draw. Imagine if anything good had actually happened. Open up a weekend edition of a British newspaper and you’ll get 10 stories just like that – all very evocative, rather clever, and probably more than a little bit embellished.

The stupidity ultimately comes when people start to believe in their own myths. For some reason, the Dutch seem far more interested in being critically acclaimed than actually winning. History seems to have stopped at 1970 in Brazil (or perhaps 1982) and around 1986 in Argentina (minus a few pesky details along the way). A lot of the greatest critics of the modern game are former players, of course, which I find completely amusing. Yes, there is no doubt they were great in their time, but the game has evolved. Players are bigger, stronger, faster, and tactics have changed. No sport stays the same over time. You have to enjoy it for what it is, in the here and the now, not for what it was in the past. If anything, I think the game of soccer has gotten better in recent years, with the advent of all sorts of new formations and new strategies. 

But never mind me. Everyone sucks. The game sucks and the semifinals will all be about tactics and nothing about imagination – which, in truth, it probably always was, but there is no longer much of an element of surprise. A large part of the mystique of the South American side of yore came from the fact that players tended to stay in South America, and thus were somewhat unknown quantities. That just doesn’t happen in a globalized world where everyone plays on the same club teams, coaching ideas cross borders and training routines become standardized across the globe. If anything, winning a World Cup is now harder than ever, given that everyone starts on much more equal footing.

And 50 years from now, whomever wins this coming Sunday will be hailed as great champions, of course, because they always are, and whomever will be wearing the shirt of that country will likely be considered to be terrible and unimaginative and not up to the standard of the nation set a half-century earlier. They will all suck, just as much as the guys playing tomorrow will suck, when the Brazilians will score more goals than the Germans because they will suck slightly less, and the Dutch will suck slightly less on Wednesday than Argentina. But that’s not a prediction, and I’m not really interested in watching such drek, anyway. And neither should you, because these guys are all terrible.

Well, That Was Different

Lunacy

NOT sure what to make of those two games, other than to say that the better team won each of them, and neither was particularly inspiring.
 
1. Game Management
Game management doesn’t make for the most exciting viewing. For the third time in as many games, the favoured side pushed forward at the start, got an early goal and then hunkered down as the upstarts tried to figure out what to do. For the third time in as many games, the upstarts failed miserably.

Argentina had a clear plan for how to thwart the Belgians after Higuain’s well-taken goal at the 8’ mark – square four in the back, with a square three holding midfielders right in front of it. In essence, seven defenders. The Belgians want to run at you from every position on the pitch, but they aren’t a side that goes about crafting a goal very well. From whatever angle they attacked, they promptly ran into two guys, and most of their crosses were of the awful variety. Argentina could get away with this, in part, because of Messi, who more or less roamed about well up the pitch. The threat of a Messi counter was so great that the Belgians could never quite commit the numbers forward they may have needed. In a sense, Messi was playing defense simply by being on the pitch, exuding influence over the game while rarely touching the ball.

It made for a fairly dull game, as the Argentines spent 82’ taking the air out of it while frustrating the Belgians. The Belgians wanted to make everything complicated, often trying to dribble through three blue shirts and not creating any sort of useful movement. It wasn’t until the end, when they started lobbing crosses in the box for their big men Fellaini and Lukaku that they started to make headway. It seems like a low percentage play, but the low percentage play is better than the no percentage play. In a game so stiff and lifeless, sometimes your best chance is to try to create some chaos in front of the goal and see what happens.

The Belgian inexperience really showed in this game, and I think everyone on their side would agree that it will prove a worthwhile learning experience, albeit a rather painful one. Both they and the French learned valuable lessons this weekend which will serve them well in the future – and given both the youth and the raw talent on both sides, I suspect we're going to be seeing a lot of those two teams over the next decade.

2. Yes, That Game Actually Happened
For the first 70’ of the fourth quarterfinal, it was the worst game of the tournament, as Costa Rica did nothing and the Dutch took a leisurely stroll along the canals of Amsterdam on a Saturday afternoon. Then it got weird.

There are days when the ball just won’t go in the damn goal no matter what you do, and the Dutch were clearly having one of those days. They hit the woodwork three times, Navas got a touch to everything else, the Dutch were all over Costa Rica and it got more and more absurd with each attack that somehow didn’t produce a goal. I swear, on the van Persie shot cleared off the line/off the face/off the crossbar, it seemed like there were about 18 17 people in the box scrambling after the ball. It was pure, glorious mayhem.

And then van Gaal substituted a goalkeeper for the penalties, having saved his third substitution until the end. My comment at the time was, “van Gaal obviously thinks he is the smartest guy in the room. what a waste.” My comment 15 minutes later was, “like i was saying, van Gaal is god.”

In hindsight, the move made a lot of sense. Krul was a taller keeper, and one who also had fresh legs. Krul had plenty of time on the bench to study the Costa Rican shooters and know their tendencies – he dove the right direction on all of the Ticos kicks, saving two of them. The Dutch hadn’t expressly needed another attacker on the pitch, since they were creating boatloads of chances. And let’s be honest here – it weirded out the Ticos. It weirded out everyone, to be honest. Given the likelihood of being skewered, flambéed and served with a Hollandaise sauce on the side by the press if it didn’t work, it was probably the ballsiest managerial move I have ever seen in a World Cup. (But, apparently, being ballsy is nothing new to van Gaal.)

Everything van Gaal does turns up trumps in this tournament – he brings on Huntelaar late v. Mexico and Huntelaar sets up a goal and scores another; he brings on Fer v. Chile and Fer’s first touch is a header on a set piece for a winning goal. Clearly he has a great feel and a hot hand on the bench, and the players have bought in. The Lose has been quite amused reading a variety of critiques from former Oranje players speaking of how the Dutch aren’t playing attractive football in this tourney. Jeez, guys, I don’t know, they’re undefeated and scoring more goals per game than any Dutch team in World Cup history, what’s not to like about that? Frankly, to hell with style. Win the damn game, and do whatever you have to in order to do so. Costa Rica certainly did.

Which wasn’t much. To be perfectly blunt, that was about the most fundamentally negative performance I’ve seen in a World Cup in 24 years. Costa Rica didn’t have either a corner or a shot on goal until the 115’ mark of the game. They had no intention of doing anything more than playing for penalties from the beginning (and given that Campbell had no legs at all up front, I can’t say I’m surprised). Take away the backstory of the plucky, feel-good Cinderella, and put something like Italy or Germany on the front of the shirt, and that team would’ve been villified for a performance like that. While I’m pleased the Ticos achieved so much in this tourney, I’m glad we don’t have to watch any more of that, because don’t think for a minute that, had they won on penalties, they wouldn’t have tried the exact same thing in the semifinals, given what they had left in the tank. The better team wound up winning this game, albeit in the most confounding manner imaginable.

I didn’t even watch the penalties, having resigned myself to the outcome of this game. The Dutch failures in penalties, often comically awful, are as much a part of their history as their beautiful style of play. But van Gaal somehow found another ace up is sleeve, one which could trump even history. Or maybe the solution all these years was for me to go do the dishes during the shootout. Who knew I had the magic touch? I’ve just become even more of a legend in my own mind. I didn’t think it was possible.

Check and Mate

WELL, that was unsatisfying.

1. Sacré Bleus!
Whatever that game plan by the French was supposed to be, it needs to be ripped out of the book and thrown into the bay. In watching Germany’s 1:0 win over France, I kept wondering if the French staff had done even the slightest bit of research.

The Germans basically got blown up by Ghana in the second half. Ever since, they’ve played extraordinarily cautiously. They came out looking bright against the U.S., setting up a line across the face of the American box and looking to pick out a pass, but all it took was one counterattack by the Americans 20’ into the game – resulting in a near jail break and a yellow card on the German left back – to send the Germans into a defensive trench. They’ve been swarming to the ball, trying to trap opponents in their own half up against the touchlines, and the German offensive buildup has been extremely ponderous.

OK, so, if you’re the French, what do you do? First off, it should’ve taken about 3’ for the French to realize that playing four in the back v. the Germans was pointless – Özil is out of place up front on the left, the Germans have no real interest in running down the wings, and if your centre back can’t win a 1 v. 1 matchup with 67-year-old Klose, you’ve got even bigger problems. A 4th midfielder looking to win in midfield and spring the attack would’ve been far more useful for the French. The way to attack the Germans is through the middle with quick passing and linkup play. Theoretically, this should’ve played to France’s strengths, but instead, every touch from the French was too slow and they played their way into negative areas on the pitch. After getting the lead on the set piece goal, the Germans basically had to do nothing the rest of the way, since the French were too busy going about defeating themselves. Even as the French thought they found space down the Germans’ right side in the 2nd half, it was really where the Germans wanted them to go, in that the flow of play was constantly away from Pogba and Benzema, France’s two best players, neither of whom ever had the ball.

Perhaps it was simply a case of nerves and inexperience – the French had far too many jumpy touches in the final third, every ball seeming uncertain – but the French seemed to forget what got them to the quarterfinals in the first place. And this supposedly ‘new’ German style of play is looking more and more like the German style of old – methodical, disciplined, rigorous, a bit ugly, and damningly successful.

2. Head Games
Do all of you doubters of the home side understand now why it is they are still such a huge favourite in this tournament? To quote Johan Cruijff once again, football is a game that is played with the head. The Brazilians got into the Colombians’ heads from the get-go, scoring at 6’ on a sloppily played corner. In a lot of ways, the game felt somewhat over barely after it had begun.

Keep in mind that Colombia had beaten Brazil once in their history in a relevant game. With five World Cup titles comes a substantial amount of cred, and the Brazilians know how to play the mental game as well anybody. A good number of Seleção came into this game sitting on yellows, which meant another yellow would mean suspension – but they also knew it was as hostile an environment for the officials as for the opponents. And it became pretty clear early on that the Spanish referee wasn’t going to open his book, not when facing 74,000 hostile fans inside the stadium and another 199,000,000 hostile fans outside of it.

Knowing this, the Brazilians had carte blanche to do their best Paul Bunyan impersonations and chop down anything around them. They hit James pretty much every time he had the ball, and they were more than happy to slow down the Colombian attack and concede a free kick whenever possible. They were basically flaunting their superiority to the Colombians, knowing they could do just about anything and get away with it. It was only when Thiago Silva did something completely, mindnumbingly stupid as hit a goalkeeper that the ref showed a yellow, but the tone of the game had long since been sent.

It was pretty cynical stuff, really, and the Colombians’ response of simply fouling them back didn’t help matters. (The play on which Neymar was injured was atrocious. How that amounted to nothing more than a stoppage in play was a bit of a mystery. Perhaps the officials were less spooked and more incompetent, in retrospect.) The positivity which has been a hallmark of the Colombians disappeared for much of the game. They were still playing with pace, but it was wasted energy. It was only after Luiz made it 2-0 on the free kick that the Colombians found their focus. The Brazilians had won the psychological battle, and not even the ample talent and fight of the Colombians could overcome that.

The Colombians did pull one back on a penalty, a two-footed tackle by Brazilian goalkeeper Julio Cesar that many argued merited a red card. By the letter of the law, maybe it should’ve been. But red cards are rarely given without deliberate intent detected – and it could be argued that the challenge was simply a bad play by the keeper in an attempt to defend. That call is rarely given against a goalkeeper to begin with, Luiz’s presence nearby took away some of the “last man standing” argument (deliberately blunting a likely score by breaking the rules), and the truth is that in this situation, that call was never going to be given. And everyone knew it, which is why the Colombians didn’t argue as strenuously as they could have.

Both of the games on Friday were triumphs over tactics over talent. Neither made for great viewing. Quite honestly, those were the sorts of games which make people dislike the sport. Too often in soccer, it seems as if the ‘better’ team doesn’t win because the ‘worse’ team is simply intent upon thwarting them throughout. I wouldn’t argue in either case that the better team lost, but in both cases, I think the more talented side didn’t figure out how to maximize their talent. At this point, you often have to think your way through the tournament, and the Germans and Brazilians have long been masters of playing chess on grass. Check and mate.

Crazy 8's

QUICK summary of the Round of 16 games: Brazil wins on penalties after a Chilean hits the crossbar at 120,' Dutch get an equalizer at 88' and winning goal in stoppage time on a penalty, Costa Rica wins on penalties after Greeks get equalizer in stoppage time, France score goals in final 20' to break scoreless deadlock, Germans and Algeria score 3 goals in OT, including two after 120' were up, Argentina's 118' goal followed by inexplicable Swiss miss at the death, Belgians and U.S. score 3 goals in OT after inexplicable miss in stoppage time in the wildest World Cup game in 32 years.

In short, everyone in this World Cup is mad as hatters.

And now Why the Lose (WTL) presents the reasons why The Lose should write about the quarterfinal matchups. We're going with 3 reasons today. I know we've done 4 thoughts in the daily post and I gave 4 WTL reasons for the round of 16 matchups, but we'll stick to 3 reasons today because, well, because I feel like it.

Brazil v. Colombia
WTL: because the Colombians have been absolutely brilliant in this tournament and have brought back fun, joy, and imagination back to the international game; because the Brazilians had the shit scared out of them Chile, and are likely to elevate their collective game in this one; because if this game was being played anywhere other than Brazil, I think Los Cafeteros would win, but it isn't.

France v. Germany
WTL: because my god, some of the Germans looked about 100 years old at the end of that Algeria game, and now there is apparently some sort of a flu bug which has been going through the team as well which isn't going to help; because I was quite amused to read several stories online wondering how young France star Pogba would do be able to cope with the star-studded German midfield, and I wonder if the reverse is true; because the Germans have gotten away with playing slow, overly cautious football against teams who couldn't take advantage of their weaknesses the past two games, but now they're playing a team that won't give a damn that they're Germany and won't afford them much respect and the Germans can't hide any more.

Netherlands v. Costa Rica
WTL: because Duarte being out hurts the Ticos far more than De Jong being out hurts the Dutch; because the well-organized Ticos backline got away with its high line against Greece because Greece, but isn't going to get away with that against the Dutch because Robben; because the Ticos will deserve all sorts of love and plaudits for bringing some class and more respect to CONCACAF after they bow out in this game.

Argentina v. Belgium
WTL: because you would think that the rest of the Albicelestes would show up at some point, and the fact that they haven't makes me wonder about Sabella as a coach, because how can you have 122 European League goals' worth of talent up front and still be clinging to dear life at 0:0 v. Iran and Switzerland unless you didn't have a clue how to use them; because every time the Belgians play, they seem to spend about an hour going through the motions and then they make an adjustment and score late to win, which is something you can do when you have the deepest bench in the tourney; because Argentina has the best player on earth, but he's only two guys – yes, Messi counts as two – and the Belgians just have too many players they can throw at them in this war of attrition they continue to successfully wage.

And if I'm wrong, well, remember that gambling is a sin.

4 Belated Thoughts

Whatever you were attempting to accomplish here, you have failed miserably

I DIDN’T want to say anything until I had a chance to watch Tuesday’s matches in full, which I’d not had the opportunity to do given that I was one of the 10 people here in the Republic of California who actually had to work on Tuesday afternoon.

1. Where Do We Even Begin?
The reporter for The Guardian who was writing the minute-by-minute said at the end of the game that so much was going on, not even the world’s greatest court stenographer would have been able to keep up. I’ve never seen a game at this level quite like the U.S.-Belgium match. I can’t ever remember watching a game where a team took 19 corners and 39 shots. (Howard’s save total was a World Cup record.) The Belgians probably should’ve been ahead by about 8-0 by the time Wondo bumbled away the chance at 90’+ that would’ve given the U.S. the incredible upset. The last 45 minutes of this game were played in a state of exhaustion-laden frenzy and constant flow. To both teams credit, there was no diving going on, the tackling was crisp when needed and the official wisely let the game go. The Americans were left for dead at the 104’ mark, down 2-0 and completely spent, and then on comes the 18-year-old Green to do his best Pelé impersonation, and all of the sudden it’s the Belgians that are clinging to life. The ESPN commentators referenced France v. West Germany in 1982 when speaking of the Americans uphill climb in OT – West Germany being the only team to score twice in extra time after an opponent had first done so – and it was a worthwhile point of reference. That 1982 game is the greatest World Cup match I have ever watched. If the U.S. v. Belgium didn’t top it, it was a close second.

So the U.S. goes out in the 16s, but they made many friends in the process. This game, along with the Portugal game, have been the two best games of the tourney – not necessarily for their prowess on the pitch, but for their competitiveness and tenacity. And I’ve read more than one English reporter lamenting the fact that his national side lacks the chemistry and mental toughness the U.S. brings to a World Cup. (Of course, they did the same thing four years ago, and haven’t learned their lessons.) The U.S. has further cemented the fact that it’s never going to be an easy out again in this tournament.

And with the Americans’ relative success in the World Cup (our expectations are so modest that going 1-2-1 and being outed in the 16s is considered a success) will inevitably come discussions about the development of the game, and the game’s place in the sporting landscape of America. I have always maintained that soccer culture existed in this country, but it didn’t take the same form as the other major sports, all of which Americans invented. It does me proud seeing USA FC stepping so far into the forefront of America’s sporting conscience that a lot of stodgy old goats of sportswriters and political pundits are decrying its relevance, given that the game, in this country, is hip and urban and intellectual. There was already heightened interest in the World Cup going into it, when most of us assumed that the U.S. wasn’t going to do so well. That the U.S. put forth a side which could compete near to the highest level of the game bodes well for the future, since there is so much more room to grow.

And speaking of growth, Klinsmann’s youth movement seems to be going nicely already – Brooks, Yedlin and Green all proved to be worthy contributors. At the beginning, I was wondering if there were too many untested players on this team, when maybe we actually needed more of them.

2. The Devils are in the Details
I disagreed with Klinsmann’s idea to start Cameron, essentially as a 5th defender while disguised as a midfielder. Altidore’s injury left them out of sorts in that, without any other viable options up front to partner effectively with Dempsey, Jones had to play higher up to offer some physicality and challenge bigger defenders. Now, he did that really well, and was probably the best field player the U.S. had in the tourney, but taking one of your dogged defenders out of the middle, combined with a 5th defender naturally dropping back, meant more space for the Belgians to operate, which is a bad idea. Belgium’s opponents have made a point to try and clog up the midfield and pinch in from the sides, trying to keep the Red Devils playing narrow. Belgium plays with basically 7 midfielders on the pitch at any given time, all of whom are different types of players, and if you give them too much room to operate, someone ultimately creates and then exploits a mismatch. Against the U.S., primary Belgian playmaker Hazard got basically blown up as soon as Yedlin came into the game, and Mertens was useless – but there went De Bruyne charging ahead and being at the middle of every attack, after having done nothing in this first two games of the tourney. Once the Belgians got control of the tempo and direction of the game, they never took their foot off the gas.

And being able to bring on guys like Mirallas and Lukaku is absolutely unfair. In an open, transition-type game like this, Lukaku is one of the more devastating strikers on the planet with his mix of speed, strength and skill – and, having been benched after the Russia game, he wasn’t going to be in a good mood. Bringing him in at the 90’ mark to face tired American defenders was a horrid mismatch from the get-go.

The U.S. showed incredible heart and courage and strength out there, but the Belgians just had too many good players. And even so, the U.S. still nearly won this game. Remarkable.

3. Can’t Anybody Play This Game?
If, at the end of tournament, Argentina are hoisting the World Cup, it will confirm to me a) Lionel Messi really is God; b) this World Cup has gone horribly wrong; or c) both. The first 118 minutes of that Argentina v. Switzerland game are 118 minutes of my life that I would like to have back. (Although the last two were a cracker, what with the Argentine goal and a final Swiss attack that included a goalkeeper attempting a bicycle kick and a forward inexplicably gaffing a wide open header.) Both Messi and Shaqiri seemed utterly exasperated by the end of this game after doing whatever they could to set up teammates, only to have them repeatedly bungle the chances. Argentina have ambled and bumbled their way through four games yet, somehow, are still playing. Oh, that’s right, they have Messi. But at this point, they’ve run out of incompetent opponents.The Belgians possess a pretty high football IQ, and the likely semifinal opponent – the Dutch – are the smartest team left in the tournament. Smarts generally trump luck, and Argentina has been lucky and little more so far.

The Germans aren’t playing worth a damn, either, their normally ruthlessly efficient office moving at the speed of a sun dial in an effort to protect their dreadfully slow backline. The Germans are doing a nice job swarming to the ball on defense, but anytime they got stretched v. Algeria, the Fennec Foxes ran right past them. Hell, Neuer is their best centre back at the moment. You wonder with both Argentina and Germany at what point their obvious flaws are going to fully be exposed. I suspect the French will be happy to oblige in that act of exposure, they themselves having slipped out of trouble v. Nigeria thanks, in part, to the awful goalkeeping gaffe in today’s gif. This tourney usually permits you to rise to the level of your own incompetence, but Germany and Argentina seem to keep wriggling themselves out of trouble. For now.

4. Tightening Up
There were no ‘upsets’ in the Round of 16 – the eight group winners all advanced – and yet there very easily could’ve been six or seven. As is to be expected, the games turned more tactical and less open (with the exception of the U.S.-Belgium game, which defied any sort of logic or sense). The biggest difference I see is that, while there is still disparities in talent, the disparities in fitness have lessened to the point that a well-organized side can keep themselves in the game for longer. Even a lesser level professional footballer playing in Europe or MLS or a top South American side now has a heightened level of conditioning. And I’ve been very impressed with the tactics employed by sides like Costa Rica and Algeria in this tournament. Tactics which are based upon a conviction that, through playing this way, they will be able to win rather than simply avoid losing. It’s made for some pretty dramatic stuff, what with five OT games in the first eight knockout matches. Those who came up on the short end weren’t that far away from victory. The gap between the élite and the also rans gets smaller and smaller each year.

My New Novel

My new novel

Juste un peu d’amour 
Everyone calls him Z. Z is a mess. His girlfriend breaks up with him, but then she won’t leave him alone. He works for a failing San Francisco startup, he hates his job, but finds it physically impossible to quit. Unable to resist the charms of his beautiful co-worker Mallory, Z takes up her task of writing a proposal for a joint venture with a French conglomerate which could save the company from bankruptcy – assuming he sobers up long enough to write it, navigates the sea of office politics and remembers how to speak French. All that he really wants, however, is a getaway: maybe a couple of weeks of vacation near Santa Barbara, or maybe a longer, more distant journey deep into the South Pacific. Juste un peu d’amour tells the story of the son of first-generation immigrants who comes to discover that hard work and perseverance get you nowhere in America, but with good timing, a little luck, good looks and a bit of talent, you just might find you have it all – but when it happens, be sure you know what to do with it.

THIS novel is now available for $6.99 from the publisher. It is available in all sorts of ebook formats – epub, mobi, pdf, rtf, lrf, pdb, and txt. Soon, it should also be available on amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other online retailers. I am also planning some other editions of this novel which I will make available soon. Please email me at inplaylose@gmail.com for more information.

This has been an amazing experience, and it is probably the most rewarding thing that I have ever done. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

4 Thoughts And Then We Go to Penalties ...

Pure brilliance

EXTRA-LONG games mean extra-long thoughts ... 

1. Mythbusters
Ochoa’s heroic performance v. Brazil quickly took on a mythical sort of proportion in Mexican football annals. It was so mythical, in fact, that I think it fooled his own team into thinking their defense was better than it actually was. They had erected quite a fortress in Fortaleza v. Seleção, but more than a little of their success in that 0:0 ‘victory’ came as a result of dreadful Brazilian forward play (more on that in a minute). The game with Croatia was won through having found the courage and conviction to attack, sensing the opportunity to exploit a frustrated opponent. It was easy to praise Mexico’s defensive organization through the first three games, but it wasn’t as simple as having their goalkeeper simply throwing up a wall in front of the goal.

The Mexico-Netherlands game was fascinating, in that the Dutch wanted to counterattack and the Mexicans came up with a good way to handle this in the first half, which was to make Oranje posses the ball for long stretches while El Tri played high, kept the back two lines tight, and also conserved some energy in the 97° heat. Both teams tried to keep something in the tank, so the attacks in the 1st half weren’t too successful, but the Mexicans went forward with more competence and conviction, and when they scored at 48’ it certainly seemed like the right team had the lead.

But then, for some inexplicable reason, the Mexicans completely stopped attacking. I felt as if, had El Tri continued to attack what looked to be a slow Oranje backline, a second goal would’ve likely come. But instead, off comes Dos Santos and El Tri sinks into a defensive shell – and a shell that was way too deep, at that. The last thing they needed to be doing was letting the Dutch bomb away at them, particularly from the wings where all El Tri could do was clear and concede corners. Ochoa saved them once on a set piece, but you cannot concede 11 corners to a team as organized as the Dutch. They will figure it out eventually. By 88’ when Sneijder scored off a beautifully worked set play on a corner, the goal felt somewhat inevitable. Not equalizing would’ve felt unjust.

There was nothing unjust about the penalty at the end. Sure, it was soft – softer than the one in the 1st half which the referee missed – but it was a bad play by all three guys involved in a green shirt who Robben schooled, and like I say, don’t make a bad play and expect the officials to bail you out. The Mexicans argued somewhat, but their hearts weren’t in it. And Mexico were so out of sorts by that point, and their lineup so ragged and unshapely, that playing another 30 minutes of OT could’ve been really unsightly. Holding out for a half hour and going to penalties seemed almost impossible, since the Dutch were all over them, but it also seemed the only way Mexico could possibly win. Honestly, a 3:1 or even 4:1 Oranje final wouldn’t have surprised me if they’d gone another half hour.

In the end, I feel like Mexico outsmarted themselves. They needed to stay on the gas and take the game to the Dutch, which maybe seemed counterintuitive but that’s what was working in this particular game. What happened a week ago doesn’t matter. You have to play the opponent there before you on the pitch. Herrera has done yeoman’s work reviving a team that looked dead as a doornail last fall, and you have to commend the resourcefulness of Oranje, but I really feel like El Tri gave them the chance to be resourceful. It sucked to see them give this game away.


2. Coffee is life
Uruguay did everything right in the first 25’ of their game with Colombia. They controlled tempo, they packed it in tight and gave Colombia nowhere to go. They then made the mistake of happening to be on the field when James decided to show everyone why he will soon be the most expensive player in the world. The first goal, in the .gif at the top of the entry, is absolutely sick.

James gets the 2nd goal as well, and it’s this goal which really speaks to why Los Cafeteros are the most dangerous team in the tournament right now:

Here is the New York Times diagram of the 10-pass sequence which led to that goal. The touches and the movement in this buildup were exquisite, as they moved Uruguay's defense all over the place and eventually got an easy goal:

Not only do the Colombians have the hottest hand in the tourney right now in James, but they attack with dynamism and imagination and, most importantly, selflessness. They share the ball. Now, I’m still not convinced by that defense – once they got the 2:0 lead, they tried to sit back, at which they look about as comfortable as a 17-year-old kid in a misfitting prom tuxedo. But Colombia have so many options going forward that trying to stop them seems like a terrible prospect.

3. Forward Your Résumé to Rio
There are 199,000,000 people in Brazil. Surely one of them can play forward. Scolari may need to hang a HELP WANTED sign in the window. People were wondering why Fred was playing up front for Seleção, given that he has been awful – then we all saw Jô yesterday v. Chile, and Fred suddenly looked extremely appealing. Brazil is built from the back and they have Neymar running the show, of course, but the final third is a swirling, sucking eddy of despair. The Brazilian attack was woful v. a shorter Chilean side with few good defensive options that played out of their minds. Seleção survived the penalty shootout on Saturday, but they certainly didn’t play well, and a similar effort against a more balanced side like Colombia is going to leave them sitting on the beach a few weeks earlier than they were expecting.

4. Enjoyably Awful
Costa Rica and Greece were so boring in the first half that it put the Greek goalkeeper to sleep, which is about the only way to explain how the slow motion, barely struck, roly-poly ball from Brian Ruiz hit the Greek net without anyone even bothering to make a move. Not wanting to stand prosperity, the Ticos promptly got a guy sent off, reducing them to 10 men and suddenly making this game interesting. The three Ticos subs, meanwhile, were hell-bent on using their fresh legs to undo all of the work the weary seven starters were doing. Up a man, the Greeks then threw everything including the kitchen sink at the Ticos for an hour – everything, that is, except a serviceable cross. The Greeks managed an equalizer in the dying minutes of regulation, but their inability to grasp hold of a game where they had fresh legs up front v. a 10-man side which could barely move by the end of the OT was really, really poor. Navas is a fabulous keeper, of course, and he kept the Ticos alive, but the Greeks had about four forwards on the pitch who just seemed to get in each other’s way. They are (in)famous for eking out 1-0 wins where they defend like hell and sneak a goal on a set piece or a counter, and now that I’ve watched them squander about 30 chances over the course of an hour of play, I think I can understand why they play that way. It wasn’t great football in the slightest, but it was wildly entertaining. If there was ever a game that deserved to end on penalties, it was this one.

Penalties
We saw two games decided by penalties this weekend. The Lose hates penalty shootouts on principle, but understands the need for them – Joel Campbell must have run 9½ miles in that game v. the Greeks, and Bryan Ruiz looked somewhat zombified. Asking players to continue under such circumstances does, in fact, become a player safety issue. It’s a shitty way to end a game, but no one can think of anything better.

And as a goalkeeper, trying to stop a penalty is one of the most fun things in the game. The penalty has often been thought of in terms of Game Theory in action – the keeper is trying to decide what to do based upon what (s)he thinks the shooter is going to do, and vice versa – but what makes it fun as a goalkeeper is that there is virtually no pressure upon you. The success rate on penalties runs in the 70-80% range, which means a goalkeeper isn’t expected to make a save at all, so any kind of a result is gravy and it doesn’t matter if you don’t make the save, since you weren’t expected to do so in the first place. And it doesn’t matter if you cheat and the referee orders a retake. You’ll be just as unlikely to save it the next time. All of the pressure is on the shooter.

And this was a situation in the game when I was in my element, in so much as I could mess with people. I would wander out to the penalty spot, stall for time and carry on some sort of suddenly necessary discussion with the referee, talk some shit to the shooter, and just then I would need to tie my shoes, of course, and then I would talk some more shit. Shooters don’t have much to say in response, given that them scoring is no big deal – it’s what they are supposed to do, for goodness sake. I would do almost anything to get the shooter to lose their concentration. Heck, it’s not going to work most of the time, anyway. May as well try it.

I actually stopped 2 of 3 penalties I faced my last year of soccer. I came up with the idea of trying to coax guys to shoot to a particular side. If they were right footed, I wanted them to kick it to my right, so instead of lining up dead center of the goal, I would line up 1’ or so to my left – just enough to make them notice but not so much as to be obvious – then I would dive to the right. That actually worked twice before someone finally figured out what I was doing and kicked it back to my left. 2 out of 3 constituted an outstanding rate of success.

There really isn’t much logic as to which team wins or loses on penalties. The team with the better goalie wins, except when they don’t, which is often. Brazil, Argentina, and Germany usually do really well in the penalty phase; the English and the Dutch always do really badly. Some teams have data on which guys shoot which direction – but other teams have data on how goalkeepers tend to dive. It certainly makes for drama at the end of a game, like it did this weekend, but I’ve always hated the fact that teams reach a point where they are no longer trying to win on the pitch but are simply hoping to win what’s essentially a lottery. Chile played the OT with hopes of going to penalties and lost; for Costa Rica, it worked out just fine. But let’s hope we don’t see any more of those, as they collectively cheapen the tournament.

Because These Are My Thoughts ...

WE’RE on to the Round of 16 now, knockout soccer played with tremendous intensity and, usually, a whole lot of bandages. A large part of advancing in a tourney like this depends upon managing your personnel – you need a lot more of them than you may have first thought, given injuries and suspensions and such. As has been evidenced by the run of play in the first round, with so many late goals and a good number of them by substitutes, you can never have too many good options on your bench. In World Cups of years gone by, teams beset with personnel issues would simply pack it in, play for a draw and hope to advance to the next round on penalties. Given the wealth of attacking talent in this tourney, and also the fact that the high heat just wears people out, the idea of weaker teams holding on for a draw seems extremely unlikely. Which is a good thing, because penalty shootouts suck, an uncreative play sucks.

The knockout phase of this tourney is intriguing because, with such short preparation time between matches, coaching can really come into play. How quickly you come up with a game plan and implement it (and, more importantly, get your players to buy in), is a huge factor. Some adept tactics can steal a game here or there, which is really all that matters at this point. 

Here are the eight matches to come over the next four days, complete with our Why The Lose (WTL) answers as to why I should write about these games. Unlike the preview show, the answers during which were three sentences in length, we’re gonna go with four sentences for each game in the Round of 16. Why four? Why not? That’s how we roll here at In Play Lose World HQ:

Brazil v. Chile
WTL: because the Chileans have an axe to grind, having been knocked out of the World Cup three times by the Brazilians, along with engaging in this nonsense which cost Chile a shot at qualifying for two more; because the Chileans lose to Brazil by being a quixotic lot of swashbucklers who damns the torpedos and then charges ahead – and when Seleção pushes back against you, it usually ends quite badly; because there is a decided lack of confidence in Brazil about this team, which hasn’t been up to the nation’s deservedly lofty standards and which seems to be counting on the fact that it hasn’t lost a relevant match in 39 years in lieu of actually playing well; because Seleção aren’t about to have that streak end – at least not yet, anyway.

Colombia v. Uruguay
WTL: because the Luis Suárez suspension has now brought into play the Uruguayan persecution complex, and also the Liverpool persecution complex (since he will miss about 13 games for his club), and both are really annoying and I’m sick of hearing about them both and hope he takes a long vacation during his time away and gets his head screwed on straight; because the Uruguayans now think everyone is against them, at this point, and are going to be defiant and probably play an ugly game because of it; because Los Cafeteros play with such speed and selflessness and really make the sport a joy to watch; because we all saw the Suárez-less game plan in action v. Costa Rica – Forlán lobs crosses and set piece balls into the box for Cavani and hopes something happens – which actually worked in the first half, but we saw in the second half that the game plan didn’t work so well, and Colombia are way better than Costa Rica.

France v. Nigeria
WTL: because Enyeama has been terrific and has gone a long way to dispelling one of the most annoyingly persistent stereotypes in the sport, which is that African goalkeepers are rubbish; because it’s a good thing Enyeama is so good, since he is going to be busy; because the only real concern about the French is whether or not they lost some of that sharpness by essentially taking the day off v. Ecuador; because that isn’t going to matter against the Super Eagles, who are probably the weakest team to advance to the 16s.

Germany v. Algeria
WTL: because the Algerians have been waiting 32 years to get this chance at revenge, and that may seem silly to drag around since it was forever ago and since most of the Fennec Foxes actually grew up in Algeria, but people have long memories when it comes to this game; because Halilhodzic has shown himself to be a terrific tactician on the bench, and he’s going to need to cook something up in a hurry; because the Germans have put on a similar display to 2010, where they went out and so overwhelmed an opponent in the first game that it masqued some deficiencies elsewhere in the team, and I wonder at what point their opponents are going to figure them out; because while I think the Germans will win, it won’t surprise me at all if the Fennec Foxes make them really uncomfortable.

Netherlands v. Mexico
WTL: because El Tri’s lack of physicality and athleticism up front has to catch up with them at some point; because I’m starting to think that van Gaal is simply smarter than everyone else in this tourney, since he’s managed to get the Dutch to actually play together and also outfoxed a couple of opposing managers in the process; because Rafa v. the Robben & Robin Show is a really bad mismatch which Herrera is going to have to figure out how to cover for, and which is likely to hinder his excellent team defense in doing so; because the Mexican resurrection in Brazil has been great to see, but I really feel like the Oranje do everything in the game that El Tri wants to do and simply does it better.

Costa Rica v. Greece
WTL: because at some point I need to mention that there are three CONCACAF teams in the 16s and that one of the biggest reasons for this is the continued growth of MLS, since having a second quality league in the region affords more players throughout the region the chance to play professionally at a high level and develop their games, whereas in the past you had representatives of the region at the World Cup like the U.S. college kids and the part-time players for the Ticos in 1990 (one of whom I believe was an electrician); because Campbell and Ruiz remind us that having a tandem up front who plays well together is often more important than a tandem who are über-talented; because the Ticos have been running circles around square, slow teams all tournament, and Greece more than fit that bill; because I have no real thoughts whatsoever about Greece other than that they are a cure for insomnia, and would like them to be eliminated as soon as possible.

Argentina v. Switzerland
WTL: because I’ve read an awful lot of writers and pundits still picking Argentina to win the World Cup and I’m wondering if they are watching the same team that I am, or if they are simply enamoured by the name on the jersey, which goes a long way to explaining why if you have Argentina or Germany on your jersey people think you shit rainbows even if you don’t play that well, but if it reads Belgium or France you’re suddenly a disappointment when you’re 3-0 or take a meaningless game off; because Argentina are currently Messi and 10 guys who are a letter short of Messi, but it’s been good enough so far against overawed and underaggressive opposition; because the Swiss have been all over the place, and have been so schizophrenic that you don’t know what to expect from minute to minute; because if the Swiss figure out where they are supposed to be on the field for 90’ or so, this has the potential to be the most entertaining game of the Round of 16.

Belgium v. United States
WTL: because one of the things which would help the U.S. is if they stopped treating the left side of the field like a toxic waste dump, given that the Germans figured this out pretty quickly and clogged the right side of the pitch and took away as much of the Johnson/Jones runs and combination play as they could, and surely the Belgians can figure out to do the same thing as well; because assuming the Belgians can figure that out is questionable, since Wilmots has looked out of his league coaching v. Cappello and Halilhodzic, and Klinsmann is a better tactician than either of them and also has better players than those two coaches do; because I think that what the U.S. wants to do in this game is more or less what the Belgians want to do as well, which is play up-tempo and try to pressure through the midfield and down the flanks; because unfortunately, when two teams want to do basically the same thing, the one with better players generally wins, and also the one with more of them, and that’s the Belgians.

I will gladly, willingly be wrong on the last one. Please don’t take any of this to the bank, and always remember that gambling is a sin.

Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre ...

Important safety tip: Never do this ever

ON to the Round of 16 we go! And yes, the language in the title of this blog entry tells you which team has looked the best so far, irrelevant 0:0 draws with Ecuador notwithstanding.

1. Pragmatism in Motion
Both the U.S. and the Germans played extremely cautiously today – befitting two teams needing only a draw to advance. The slick pitch in Recife seemed to take the edge off the American game plan, as the ball just seemed to run away from them on every touch and made any sort of a transition attack difficult. The Germans, meanwhile, played incredibly slowly and took very few risks, not wanting to let their slow backline get exposed. After they got the goal, the Germans basically didn't do anything. It didn't make for the most attractive game, but it is a results-oriented business and nothing going on down in Brasilia made any more urgency necessary. I'll take a 0:1 loss under the circumstances. Bring on the Belgians, but we best be careful what we wish for ... then again, a number of the Belgians said they would much prefer playing the U.S. instead of the Germans, so maybe it's they who need to be careful what they wish for.

2. Thank You for Imploding
Fortunately for the U.S., Ghana was bound and determined to self-destruct. Boateng and Muntari being sent home – one apparently for verbally abusing the coach, the other a Ghanian FA executive – was the last in a series of divisive, behind-the-scenes issues. The Black Stars were very flat against Portugal, and probably should've been down more than 1:0 at the half. Then again, it was probably appropriate that they were losing because they had scored upon themselves. Gyan's lovely header (and, no doubt, hearing the score in Recife) brought about 15' of spark, but it didn't amount to anything, and then came the truly dreadful piece of goalkeeping above. It's probably not a good idea to punch the ball directly to Ronaldo in the center of the penalty area. Portugal probably should've won by even more than they did. At this point, any result other than a Ghana loss would've been entirely undeserved.

And One More Moment of Noise About Ghana ...
The Black Stars got screwed by the draw. No doubt. Honestly, after watching the mess that was on display in Groups C, E, F and H, it seems a little cruel that a team is going home that's capable of playing the way the Black Stars did v. the Germans. This team has so much talent. But, really, they did it to themselves. Almost all goals they allowed were owing to sloppy defending, particularly on set pieces. Any sort of cross was something of a harrowing experience. The future should be reasonably bright for the Black Stars, who followed up 2010's successes by fielding one of the youngest sides in Brazil and they didn't appear to have missed that much of a step. But obviously, there are politics and backroom issues needing to be dealt with. Half the team seemed to be playing to win today, the other half seemed to be playing to get someone fired. It's obviously a big mess, and it's doubtful they currently have people in charge who can clean it up.

3. If it's Belgium, the Game Must Be Next Tuesday
You can't read much into the Belgian performance today, given that they rested about 6-7 starters. Even so, it was probably good for them to have to play a man down the entire 2nd half, because at that point the Belgians had to actually care. This team has been the enigma of the World Cup so far. They haven't played worth a damn, yet they're 3-0. Sure, the group wasn't very good, but the Belgians had to play terrible to make those games even close, and still couldn't lose.

I don't know what to make of the U.S.-Belgium match up in the 16s. Every time I see Mertens make a run down the flank, I think the U.S. will be in trouble. Every time I see him flub a cross, I think the U.S. will be just fine. The Belgians have tremendous midfielders, but the final third has been a wreck, and you can find holes in that defense if you stay away from Kompany. The Belgians positively mauled the U.S. last summer in a friendly, but they seem to have lost that edge and that attitude they carried. They certainly look beatable. If I were the U.S., I would try to get on them early, that's for sure. The Red Devils have so many players on their bench that they can just wear you out with their numbers. Fortunately, I think the U.S. conserved some energy today, because the Belgian starters will be well-rested and I suspect both sides will want to play very, very fast.

4. Outfoxed
I don't think they have much of a chance against Germany, nor do I know what they will try to do in the game, but Algeria will almost certainly come up with a solid game plan. This is a savvy team, well-coached and well-prepared, and they've shifted shapes repeatedly in this tourney to suit their opposition. First they pack it in and frustrate the Belgians, then they explode against the woful Korean defense. They definitely know how to get results. The Fennec Foxes also helped bring some respect back to African football after the Ghanian collapse and the Greek tragedy that was the Côte d'Ivoire the other day. They will make the Germans work for it, I suspect.

And Now Some Moments of Noise ...
Portugal gets some props for still playing hard. The tournament basically ended for them in the first game, when they got blown up by the Germans. They were old, slow, beat up, and they really struggled to keep pace in the heat. That they took four points from the last two games was commendable, and definitely a bit surprising. Without a healthy Ronaldo, this team isn't much to speak of, of course, and even Ronaldo at about 60% was good for a brilliant play to save the game vs. the U.S. and a pretty dominant display v. Ghana. (He probably should've had a hat trick.) The Portuguese seem to spend too much time watching Ronaldo. On more than one occasion, guys differed to him, waiting for him to make a play instead of making it themselves. This team needs a pretty big overhaul. Bento insists he will not resign as coach, but they've struggled pretty badly when it comes to qualifications in the last few years. Unlike Messi, Ronaldo is clearly human, and he ran out of miracles in Brazil.

It does not take much to explain where the problems with South Korea lie. Behold the first goal they allowed v. Algeria over the weekend:

What the shit was that?

And here are the Fennec Foxes running a 4-on-7 break. Count the number of statues dressed in red:

Like I say, it is not too hard to see where the problem is with this team. They got caught flat footed and ball watching again today vs. the Belgians. The Korean defense needs a lot of help. Then again, they could not find a goal v. a 10-man Belgian JV today, so the offense is not in great shape, either. Oh boy.

Speaking of the offense not being in great shape, Russia's attack verged on completely dysfunctional at times during this World Cup. Cappello has been given the keys to the Russian program between now and 2018, and his focus should definitely be up front. They were well-organized and defended stoutly, but couldn't score a lick. It might also help to upgrade the goalkeeping. Along the howler of a goal v. the Koreans, Akinfeev flapped pretty badly at the Algerian equalizer today. Considering that they only conceded three goals in three games, those goalkeeping errors undid a lot of good work by the defense.

There were times these past couple of weeks where it seemed the Russians were far more busy planning for 2018 than paying attention to 2014. In terms of logistics, I suspect the 2018 World Cup will come off relatively well. Unlike the white elephants in Manaus and Brasilia, all of the facilities being built in Russia are infrastructure improvements the Russian game can genuinely use. It's definitely a bit strange trying to prepare yourself to host a World Cup, however. You just don't have enough meaningful games in the build-up, and it's really hard to judge your side. I would imagine Cappello will keep going young here as Euro 2016 qualifying begins, but the Russians don't have a whole much success on which to build. Good challenge for a coach, though. Let's see if the Russian FA will show some patience and let Cappello attempt to craft a formidable side.

Buy 4 thoughts, get 1 free

“Messi is from Jupiter” – Nigeria coach Stephen Keshi

1. Xherdan Shaqiri
The 16s now feature a head-to-head battle between the world's greatest soccer player and the world's greatest soccer name. Xherdan Shaqiri's hat trick gave the Swiss a 3:0 win over Honduras and advances them to play Messi's Argentina, which is potentially quite an interesting game. Shaqiri is the star of this new Swiss side, many of whom played for a World Junior championship team from several years ago. The spritely Swiss have a wonderful, youthful, almost naïve sort of quality to the way that they play, which got them into trouble v. France but has served them well otherwise. They should be intimidated by Messi & Co., but they might just be young enough not to know it. And Argentina's 3:2 win over the Super Eagles today didn't exactly assauge any doubts about their lack of defensive prowess.

2. Fly High, Super Eagles
Even though I think they are going to get smushed by France in the 16s, I would sort of like to see the Super Eagles win, and keep winning, and win the whole tournament, because every time that the Super Eagles win on the pitch, those who choose to commit unspeakable acts of violence within their country – piggybacking upon an event with as high a profile as the World Cup to raise their own profile in the process – will lose just a little bit more.

Let's have a few moments of noise ...
In no sport are coaches hired to be fired moreso than in soccer. But in the case of both Honduras and Iran, their managers quickly tendered their resignations upon being knocked out of the competition, even though it isn’t clear there was any real disappointment in their performance. In fact, I suspect both coaches – Fernando Suárez in Honduras, Carlos Queiroz in Iran – came to realize that it was time to move on simply because they had maxed out all they could accomplish.

Honduras were quite negative in their play in Brazil, and no one there is mourning their departure, but qualifying for a second consecutive World Cup was a notable achievement. Even so, this is a team whose best players are older and who possesses a rather straight forward game plan that isn’t particularly difficult for modern, sophisticated opponents to figure out. Replicating their success and reaching Russia in 2018 may be a taller order than Suárez wants to try to tackle. After you’ve overachieved twice, you’re no longer overachieving. At that point success is expected, sometimes unrealistically. Success often serves to set one up for future failure.

Queiroz leaving is definitely a blow to Iran. He was moments away from stealing a point from Argentina and they played Nigeria to a 0:0 draw. But playing to a 0:0 draw seemed to be all that they were capable of accomplishing, and having to chase a victory today v. the Bosnians wasn’t a recipe for success. Queiroz would argue, of course, that he didn’t really have the talent at his disposal to do more than assemble a stout, organized, ultra-defensive side. He also ran up against the usual Iranian problem – politics. Soccer is a game of the people in Iran, whose government is wary of anything which falls into the realm of the general public. National team success is good for national morale, but too much success encourages exceesive acts of free-expression – the football grounds being about the only true venue for such in the country. Authorities want the Meili to do well, but not too well. As such, Queiroz found his efforts underfinanced and undermined – stories circulated about how they didn’t have enough jerseys to be able to do the ceremonial swaps at the end of games – and international sanctions have crippled his ability to find quality warm-up opponents. There is only so long that you work under such conditions before you decide that you just don’t want to put up with it any longer.

The third team going home after today – Ecuador – needed a win today, but were decidedly underwhelming in a 0:0 game with a French team that made six changes and had nothing at all to play for. Ecuador is kind of like any number of teams you see every year in the NCAA basketball tournament, in that they have enough athleticism to get some results, but they don’t appear to do any faze of the game particularly well. They were playing with a burden in Brazil after the death of Christian Benítez, who was one of their best players. Enner Valencia admirably filled his role up front, scoring all three of Ecuador’s goals in the tourney. But La Tri really didn’t show very much. I thought they would be better than this.

3. Thinking back to yesterday
Uruguay are attempting to circle the wagons around Luis Suárez after his latest attempt at channeling his inner vampire. I can understand them publicly expressing defiance to some extent, since they know damn well that they’re going to everyone’s enemy come Saturday v. Colombia and are looking to hunker down and foster a bunker mentality. When thrust into the role of the villain, it’s often a wise idea to embrace it. But I find a lot of those comments too stupid to be believed, the best of which having been offered up by displaced team captain Diego Lugano, who apparently has grown tired of answering questions about why he got schooled by Costa Rica and has less mobility than a bag of wet sand. In keeping with the spirit of cannibalism, the Italians are now in the obligatory process of eating their own. Couldn’t happen to a better bunch, to be honest. The fact is that the Italians won a World Cup in 2006 with cynical play amid a domestic match-fixing scandal while fielding one of the least likable sides to ever claim the title. Questioning the commitment of the young players who may actually bring back some credibility to Serie A and make people care again about Italian football is certainly amusing. De Rossi and Buffon may as well tell those kids to take the soccer ball and get off their lawns while shaking their canes.

4. Thinking about tomorrow
This has been a bad few days for the Ghanians. Reports are that they went so far as to threaten a boycott of the game tomorrow v. Portugal over not being paid yet by the Ghana FA, at which point Ghana's president personally guaranteed the payments – and $3,000,000 in cash was promptly shipped to Brazil, while Ghana's FA asked for an advance on their share of the Brazil prize pool. A good rule of thumb when you hear about these disputes with federations is that the players are always right. No one has heard “the cheque is in the mail” quite as often as an African footballer. And the urgency to have this payment issue resolved almost certainly came about when The Telegraph in the U.K. broke this story over the weekend, in which it alleges that the president of Ghana's FA agreed on a figure of about £170,000 per match to have Ghanian sides participate in matches that would be fixed ahead of time by gamblers. Now, none of the players are implicated in this – it is something allegedly going on at an administrative level – but this guy is, in essence, your boss, and if you're a Black Star, why would you want to put up with this shit? The Black Stars need to beat Portugal tomorrow, and this sort of distraction certainly does not help.

5. Thinking about tomorrow some more
“The U.S. is known to give all they have in every single game, otherwise Mexico wouldn't be here.”
– Jurgen Klinsmann

Spoken like a true member of USA FC – speak to American pride and resiliency while also trolling El Tri a little. Nah, there isn’t be any sort of collusion going on in the Germany game.