Messi to the rescue, Mbappe at the double and Australia threaten to advance at the world’s fair
World Cup Diaries: Day 7
World Cup Diaries: Day 7
26th November 2022
Hey Bubba!
It’s the weekend again and I hope you’ve recovered from giving thanks to a turkey we on the right thinking side of things won’t be devouring for at least another month. Turkey’s are for Christmas my old friend, unless of course they’re one of the lucky ones given a pardon at The White House and that particular tradition is just as faintly ridiculous as last night’s dull 0–0 draw between our twin cousins of the “Evil Empire”. I think we could both open our windows wide today in our respective parts of the empire and still smell the stench from last night’s bore draw and I picture you sat there smoking an illegal cigarette on your back porch, scratching your head at a game of this magnitude not only finishing without a goal being scored, but a draw too. A draw? 0–0? No goals? A beautiful game? That it is Bubba and whilst I love you with all of my darkened soul, I sincerely hope Iran turn your boys over in the last group game and join England in the knock-out stages.
We could all do with this kind of a laugh Bubba, I’m sure you understand.
So we’ve made it to day 7 of the World Cup and as I have the wild company of my beautiful son I’m restricting myself to just two examples of the beautiful game today, and the bookends of the day if you will. The middle two games I’ve missed whilst being royally entertained by my son included a 2–0 victory for Poland over Saudi Arabia (Robert Lewandowski finally on the score sheet for Poland in a World Cup) and a double from Kylian Mbappe (who now has 3 goals in the tournament) secured a 2–1 win for France against Denmark.
The statistics would appear to lie in the case of the Poland/Saudi Arabia clash with the gallant and shock victors over Argentina having twice as many shots off and on target as well as twice as many successful passes and over 64% total possession of the ball against their Eastern European opponents. These dreaded statistics often lie but the score line does not, and Poland now top Group C and are huge favourites to qualify for the knock-out stages.
(Editor’s Note: I’ve now watched the very brief highlights of both games and can confirm that (a) The statistics didn’t lie and Saudi Arabia looked incredibly unlucky in defeat in front of yet another noisily beautifully and colourful partisan crowd (b) Please watch Wojciech Szczesny’s double penalty save for Poland that denied Saudi Arabia a route back into the game. It is simply incredible and (c) The defending champions looked resplendent in their traditional blue, white and red kit and Kylian Mbappe is scoring some ominously looking scruffy goals to go with his otherworldly ones. France, along with Spain, mean business).
Anyway, here are my thoughts on an Australia team I’m grudgingly cheering for as well as an Argentina team in need of my cheers and a team I’ve held paradoxically close to my heart since the tickertape and tantrums of “Argentina 78” and their first of two World Cup triumphs to date.
TUNISIA 0
AUSTRALIA 1 (Duke 23)
The day’s early game was a turgid affair but as I wrapped myself like a sausage roll in my duvet to fight off the cold of an early English morning I was fascinated. The Al Janoub Stadium was packed to the rafters and almost entirely in the red of Tunisia (though they actually played in all white) with the yellow shirted fans of the Australia “Socceroos” (following their heroes dressed today in dark blue) heavily, heavily outnumbered in what looked like a home game for the team from North Africa.
Overwhelmingly outnumbered and heavy underdogs or not, the Aussies secured their first World Cup win in 12 years that saw many tears flowing and especially so from their somewhat under fire manager Graham Arnold. He dragged his weary but overjoyed team around the emptying stadium to the small pockets of yellow shirted “cobbers” dotted around the Qatari stadium and his pride was as visual as the tears he continually wiped away from his eyes. This first World Cup victory in over a decade sees his team with a real chance of progression to the knock-out stages and it may come down to a shoot-out with Denmark to see who reaches the real start of the tournament next weekend.
The game’s only goal scorer was 31 year old Mitchell Duke who was born in Liverpool but not the bastion of footballing invincibility here in England but Liverpool, New South Wales in Australia. His beautiful flicked and guided near post header (following a wonderful team move that flowed from deep in defence through midfield and into the back of the Tunisian net in a matter of seconds) will go down in Australian footballing folklore and quite rightly so. However, as good as his historic goal and performance was, please do not overlook the gargantuan effort put in by team mates Riley McGree, Craig Goodwin and Mathew Leckie in attack, the masterful and energetic midfield performance from Aaron Mooy and particularly the central defensive partnership of Kye Rowles and the overwhelming “Man of the Match” Harry Souttar. Scotland born Souttar was outstanding alongside Rowles who both conspired to head, kick, block and repel every sporadic attack from an albeit tame and tepid Tunisia, but they stood their ground and simply refused to let anything get past them or overly trouble their goalkeeper, Matthew Ryan.
On the other side of the World Cup football, Tunisia were disappointing, again, and all whilst failing to score, again, in their second game of the tournament. Despite the huge advantage of a noisy and partisan crowd roaring them on, they have now failed to score against both Denmark and Australia and now face the defending champions France needing a high scoring win, the result between Australia and Denmark to go their way, and frankly, an African miracle to qualify.
Advance Australia Fair I say!
ARGENTINA 2 (Messi 64, Fernandez 87)
MEXICO 0
Oh boy was I looking forward to this game!
And how I was so disappointed Bubba, so disappointed, even in spite of the result.
Some Argentinian context for you: My footballing love affair with Argentina stretches back to the Mario Kempes inspired World Cup of 1978, the nasty crew of “Espana 82”, the glory of Mexico’s Azteca Stadium of 1986, the nasty crew who almost barged their way to glory in “Italia 90” before the ignominy of the failed drug tests in “USA 94”. I used to have a picture of me in an “Argentina 78” tracksuit, I have a tale to tell you of a Father and Son watching the infamous “Hand of God” game together. Mario Kempes, Ossie Ardiles, Daniel Passarella, Claudio Caniggia, Javier Mascherano, Diego Maradona, Lionel Messi. I’ve loved them all, even in spite of my English heritage and the antipathy that exists bitterly between the two nations. So secretly or indeed, not so secretly, I’ve cheered for them at every Copa America and World Cup that I can remember and I love the hard bitten skills of Javier Mascherano perhaps a little too much for a man of a certain age. Alas that’s football.
The Argentina national team have always been a narky, snarky chaotic mess of a team dependent on an otherworldly faith in the divine as well as the immaculate conception of a genius in a pair of football boots. They forever seem to me a team of talented individuals pretending to be a team. Paradoxically though, they have to work damn hard as a team as they have to “carry” an ageing Lionel Messi at times, and they do so because they’re effectively down to 10 men. The payoff is when Messi scores.
When the little genius does what he did this evening on 64 minutes, in front of nearly 89,000 in a throbbing, beating and intensely loud Lusail Stadium in Qatar, the Argentinian team of 10 must feel as though they have 12, 13 men because cohesive team or otherwise, without Messi, Argentina would already be heading for the exit from this winter’s World Cup. The diminutive 35 year old Argentinian captain would have practised this evening’s goal thousands of times on a training pitch. Maybe tens of thousands. A ball running across the body that he perfectly and instantly controls into the immediate path of an immediate shot that flies like a tracer bullet into the far corner of the goal. Sheer poetry in footballing motion. Rumours persist as to his fitness. Every game is seemingly focussed entirely on him. The team around him are a horribly disorganised mess who whilst appear not to want to play as a team will fight you to the death if you dare challenge them.
Argentina are a chaotically beautiful mess dependent on the arguably the greatest footballer the world has ever seen, and in his final ever World Cup.
Good to see some things never change eh!
Mexico were as dreadful as the game that surrounded it. Their wonderful fans serenaded them as early as the 15th minute with a resounding “Ole’” ringing around the stadium. They had a badly out of tune Argentina on the ropes and camped defensively within their own half. But aside from Alexis Vega’s brilliant curling free kick on the cusp of half-time that forced Argentinian goalkeeping custodian Emiliano Martinez into a fine flying save, they produced zero attacking threat for the remainder of the game. It was a brute of a game, niggly, full of fouls, an escalating yellow card count and a stop start messi (sic) of a game that Mexico barely played a part of.
It was ever thus. You have your otherworldly talent Lionel Messi in a lifetime personal battle with Cristiano Ronaldo as to who is the greatest of all time, and your Number 10 is surrounded with proven winners, excitable young talent (see Enzo Fernandez’s beauty of a second goal this evening) and narky, grizzled warriors looking for a footballing fight. I just selfishly want to see a team with Brighton and Hove Albion’s underrated captain Alexis Mac Allister, the grizzled ex Manchester City winner Nicolas Otamendi, the steel and snarkiness of Rodrigo De Paul and the youthful talent of Julian Alvarez to go far in this tournament, but I’m a myopic part time fan.
I’m still that 6 year old kid in the “Argentina 78” tracksuit Bubba, that kid with his Dad in a World Cup summer of 1986, the young man watching a fallen idol 8 years later, a dreamer that knows in his heart of hearts that Argentina can’t and won’t win this year’s World Cup, but holds out a footballing hope that they’ll go chaotically close.
That’s football Bubba and we’ll have four more games with which to feast our sporting eyes on tomorrow.
See you in the morning my old friend.
Thanks for reading. In addition to the delights that can be found within the cave of wonders that is my archives, I’m penning a day to day diary of the World Cup, and here are days 4 through 6:
Heartbreak for Wales as the “Evil Empire” serve up a snooze fest
World Cup Diaries: Day 6medium.com
Ronaldo announces his arrival as Brazil dance to Richarlison’s tune
World Cup Diaries: Day 5medium.com
Pedri dazzles as Germany are humbled and politics returns to the World Cup once more
World Cup Diaries: Day 4medium.com