Match Day Eight review

Last night, I looked at the World Cup schedule that is affixed to my filing cabinet with a magnet and I saw the morning match was Argentina vs Serbia-Montenegro. It did not exactly set my pulse a-racin'. You see, I really dislike Argentina, and have done ever since I was a young boy in England and Diego Maradona destroyed my childhood innocence by scoring the Hand of God goal and proving to me that cheaters sometime prosper. (And yet, and yet... that second goal was unarguably gorgeous. My second lesson that day was beauty and evil go hand-in-hand.) And Serbia... well Serbia is totally unexciting. Their front two consists of Mateja Kezman, who just sucks, and Savo Milosevic, who looks not unlike an artist's rendition of a Pithecanthropus.

So when I got up this morning, I distinctly dawdled. I brewed some coffee, checked e-mail and realized that if it came down to a choice between doing some work or watching Argentina-Serbia... well, there really was no choice. I turned on the TV. It was about the 25th minute, and Argentina, predictably were already a goal up. And within five minutes, I saw one of the most incredible goals I have ever seen.

Normally, wonder goals tend to fall into two categories: the blast from 30 yards or more, a la Tomas Rosicky, or the mazy run that beats multiple defenders, a la the aforementioned second Maradona goal against England in 1986. This one was different. Here's the totally apt description of the Guardian's Barry Glendenning in his live minute-by-minute report:

Sweet mother of Jesus, how the fuck am I supposed to describe that? The goal of the tournament so far by Cambiasso, and quite possibly the greatest goal that's ever been scored.

The play started when an Argentine defender intercepted the ball about 35 yards away from his own goal. The ball was passed to another player. And again. And again. All the while the play was making progress down the left flank. Most of the passes were after one and two touches at speed. The Serbians never touched the ball. I watched the replay on ESPN Classic and I counted 24 consecutive passes--not along the backline mind you, but between the flank and the center in the Serb half. It culminated in Sorin passing to Cambiasso outside the box. Cambiasso passed to Crespo inside the box. He drew two defenders and blindly backheeled into the path of Cambiasso whose-time shot was perfectly placed beyond a stunned Jevric.

If you didn't see it, your homework is to download this goal and watch it. Seriously, do it. You won't regret it.

It almost seems incidental to say that Argentina mauled Serbia 6-0 to guarantee advancement. It could so totally have been more, they were that good. Some in the press are calling it one of the greatest team performances in World Cup history. I wouldn't go that far--it was against Serbia after all--but they looked simply awesome, even better than the Spanish. Wow.


I was sad to see the Ivory Coast lose 2-1 against Holland and thus get eliminated. They attacked and attacked after going two down, and although they got a goal back from Bakary Kone, the Dutch held on after some clever substitutions from Van Basten. The Ivorians deserved better; they were an exciting team and would have gotten results if only they had drawn another group. Hell, they'd be dominating Group B.


And what is there to say about the 0-0 draw between Mexico and Angola, aside from a barely surpressed chuckle? (I don't remotely feel bad about this; all Mexico will be laughing just as hard when Italy puts the US to the sword tomorrow.) Mexico attacked and attacked but were repelled through a combination of their own ineptitude (missing Borgetti really hurts) and some improvised defending on the part of the Angolans.

The Angolan goalkeeper Joao Ricardo is an interesting case. Here's a guy who is quite frankly the worst keeper in this Cup by far. His sense of positioning can be generously described as unconventional and every cross into the box is a new adventure. He doesn't even have a team. But he reminds me of Doctor Zhivago's description of Lara Antipova's nursing skills in his letters home (in the movie at least, I haven't read the book), when Zhivago says something about how Lara does the wrong thing all the time, but somehow it ends up being the right choice in the end. Whenever Joao Ricardo goes way off his line, he somehow gets a hand to the ball, even though he shouldn't. His deflections seem to work out. And so against Portugal and Mexico, two top ten teams, he's given up a single goal. And if Angola can get a win against Iran, and Portugal beats Mexico, the Africans are in the second round, where Ricardo's idiot savant goalkeeping will probably face Argentina from the get go. Oh dear.