We Are All Korean Ladies

It's a roller coaster, this World Cup thing.

I haven't posted since before the U.S. loss to Ghana. That was last Saturday, back when the U.S. was looking at its best-ever chance at a WC semifinal; back when England had tentatively renewed its delusions of grandeur. Back then it looked like a South American party in South Africa, as tournament favorites Brazil looked strong (if not bonito) and Maradona's arsenal of good-luck paraphernalia was looking improbably successful.

And then things took a turn ... and a drop, and a twist.

Now, England is out, victims of the poorest call in a tournament notable for poor calls. Frank Lampard's goal that wasn't (I've used that phrase far too many times on this blog), has forced FIFA to re-examine its anti-technology stance. That stance, ensconced in romantic notions of a "pure" game was ludicrous to begin with, not to mention hugely hypocritical: the Jabulani's technological advancements have had more than their share of impact on this tournament ... but then again, Adidas does have a lot of money. And, now, with favorites Brazil and Argentina out, little Uruguay is the last South American standing. I wrote earlier about how upsetting the soccer establishment was one of the thrills of a non-European World Cup. Well, that's all moot now, but any fan of good football will be excited by the match ups to come.

I wish I could say that with a little distance, the Americans' loss has become easier to swallow, and the not inconsiderable accomplishments of the squad have risen, rightfully, to the surface. But, in truth, it's still a disappointment, hard as it is to avoid thinking about what might have been.

Quarterfinals

Ghana, looked the better of the two squads when it took on Uruguay in the quarterfinal that could/should have been ours. And while it took them until the 121st minute of play — their second consecutive extra period, it should be noted — they produced, with essentially the last kick (head) of the game, what should have been the game-winner ... then they took another kick and still didn't win the game. Asamoah Gyan had a tremendous tournament. He tormented the German back line in the group stages, gave the U.S. a torrid time in the Round of 16, and, from what little I saw of the game, gave Uruguay all it could handle. But when Luis Suarez handled the ball on the goal line and set up his penalty, Gyan was either going to be Ghana's hero or its goat ... to the heartbreaking dismay of every non-Uruguayan watching, he put the shot over the crossbar and became the latter.

Somewhat bizarrely, it's one of my favorite rules in football. The stakes are plain, only exacerbated at that late stage in the game: let the ball by and you definitely lose the game; stop it with your hand and you're off to the showers and you almost certainly lose the game. For lack of time the calculus is never worked out so explicitly, but it's engrained in these players, of a piece with their desire to win. And when Uruguay won the shootout—inevitably, really—Suarez became Gyan's foil — an improbable hero, created in circumstances in which he could have been the goat.

In the other quarterfinal matchups, the mouth-watering clashes more or less lived up to billing — though not necessarily in expected ways. The Netherlands played a cagey match against tournament favorites Brazil, at times seeming more intent on collecting whistles than goals. It's a tactic, I suppose, repeatedly rolling on the pitch in feigned agony, more concerned with aggravating your opponent than beating them with skill. The Brazilians are no slouches at it, and the match at times looked like a cross between a rugby match and a pediatrician's waiting room.

Mercifully, the Dutch version was well complemented by Wesley Sneijder's class. The Inter Milan midfielder was the best player on the field; he netted two goals (though was only credited with one), and repeatedly picked himself up to get on with the game, even while the 21 players around him resorted to histrionics. The supposed favorites (not mine, I'll have it known) are out, and the Dutch move on, looking to shed the tag of best team never to win a World Cup.

Germany/Argentina had everything a World Cup fan looks for in a match: political history — for much of the early 20th century, Argentina was a preferred destination for emigrating Krauts, making safe haven for a particularly unsavory wave of expats: Nazis; footballing history — the two teams had met in the World Cup six times; and footballing antipathy — their quarterfinal match in 2006 ended in fisticuffs, and their March friendly was anything but.

But the game itself turned out to be surprisingly one-sided. Germany's young team was impressively organized and deadly fast. Having no doubt studied tapes of the Albiceleste's earlier games, the German's, too, denied Lionel Messi his debut World Cup goal, and, as importantly, limited his ability to set up teammates. And, as in their game against England, they were ruthless on the counter attack.

Spain — who is still my favorite — had a harder-than-expected time getting past Paraguay, who were unlucky to have a goal called back for a gray-area offsides call. David Villa rose to the occasion, yet again, latching on to a deft touch from Xavi and powering the Spaniards to a massive semifinal matchup with Germany.