It’s almost that time of the tournament when 32 becomes 16, or factorizing as a tribute to the Spice Girls, two becomes one. In world cups past, I would welcome this phase of the event since it would mean the elimination of nonsensical teams and survival of the men that belong, or the real boys of summer (long live Don Henley). But Brazil 2014 has been so stupendous and almost all the teams so passionate that I find myself being less than welcoming towards round 2. We witnessed the first casualties last night in Australia, Spain, and the Cameroon. Of them I was particularly sad for Australia.
By the time the first round ends and if the Spanish remember that they can actually play football, granted that that is a big if, Australia may well be the best team, and most definitely in my memory, to have exited the tournament without a single point. Football is cruel like that, because till we get senile we will remember these Socceroos with great fondness. They played with vigor and enterprise. Little known players gave much more fancied opponents a real run for their vegemite. It will be particularly depressing to say goodbye to Tim Cahill, a consummate professional, who on his day, like yesterday, is capable of the jaw-droppingly spectacular. Cahill is thirty-four and has most likely played his last world cup game. It is eminently worth remembering that at this point he has more finals goals than Rooney, Ronaldo, or Messi. Take a bow Cahill and the squad from the land down under. It was a real joy watching you men at work (yes I had to refer to both the band and the song. If you don’t like it there is a district court at Johnson road).
In terms of tournament form, Spain’s exit isn’t particularly saddening since their flamenco has been out of rhythm pretty much the entire 180 odd minutes they have played thus far. But as the minutes counted down in the Estado Maracana last night, and Xavi and Villa looked on without having played a single second in the game, one got the sense that it was more than the end of a match. The curtains were being drawn on a particularly brilliant epoch of the game. The Tiki Taka has its detractors, though I think that most of them hate the short passing game because it has, at some point, caused serious pain and humiliation to their team of choice, whether at club or international level. However from a relatively unbiased point of view, Liverpool has after all never really been Tiki Taka’d upon, the brand of football orchestrated by the likes of Xavi and Iniesta over the last six years has been on most occasions nothing short of mesmerizing. Many are prematurely predicting the death of Tiki Taka. It is akin to someone predicting the demise of total football the day Cruyff retired. A style of play that is capable of such domination does not simply die out. Sure, we will not likely witness the exactly same game that Barcelona and Spain have played so successfully in many years to come, if ever. But that is more due to the fact that players like Xavi come along once in a generation than any inherent flaw in the Tiki Taka system itself.
As for those who bemoan how boring Tiki Taka is, I have just one question. Would you rather see a team of busy scooters or a parked bus on the football field? Remember that certain Special Ones are not going anywhere anytime soon.
Tonight will be another sad night for me. Either England or Uruguay will most likely exit the tournament. That means saying goodbye to Liverpool’s captain or its best player. I guess that’s why they call it the blues (sing away Sir John). Oh no not those blues from London, HELL NO!!! No Mourinho till next season please!
