World Cup: Brazil Carves Up Turkey

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A Triumph of Liverpudlian Efficiency
One horrible mistake by the Danish goalie, two clinically efficient pieces of finishing, and Engl and stroll through. I'm impressed; they remind me (don't laugh) of the Liverpool team that Houllier has built, with a solid central defense, a space-hogging midfield, and the patience to wait for Owen to score on the counter-attack. The problem: as Liverpool found out against Leverkusen, a side truly committed to going forward and scoring goals nullifies all the calculations of the counter-attacking game.

Sure, it's easy to find the weaknesses in this team:
1. The fullbacks. Mills just doesn't convince me and Cole (who may have been carrying an injury) was skinned by Ommedahl more than once.
2. No creativity in midfield; they still miss Gerrard, their most explosive player.
3. Heskey is more of a distraction than someone who can really hold the ball and lead a line. (Though better him than Fowler.)

But the more I see this team, the more I begin to appreciate their virtues:
1. An experienced goalie playing at the top of his form; one goal in four games, and that one not his fault.
2. The best central defense pairing in the tournament. In fact, is Rio Ferdinand the player of the World Cup so far?
3. Owen — from 12 yards or less, the best chance-creator/goal-scorer in the world. His goal today was a little gem.
4. (I never thought I'd say this.) Beckham. There's a really strange thing going on here. He is so at one with the mindless juvenilia of British pop culture, so obviously happy to be an icon of it, that he's actually become an effective leader. That is to say, British leadership is now epitomized not by stiff-upper-lip cavalry officers or sozzled, Churchillian toffs, but by a rather dull (have you ever heard an interview with him?) Peter Pan who managed to marry Wendy. What Beckham's role as leader says about modern Britain I don't know. (Actually, I do know, but it can wait for another time.) But it's bloody useful for this football team.

If Brazil beat Belgium, it should be one hell of a quarter-final.

The English Anacondas
The British Lions? No, they should change the name: British Anacondas. England didn't maul Denmark so much as squeeze the life out of them. Given England a goal — another Beckham corner — and the lads just cut off the oxygen, not to mention the field for the Danes. The same team that stretched France to the breaking point looked as if they were playing on a postage stamp. Denmark is a fluid team whose players know each other well, but England was all over their short passing game, living in the lanes, covering the runners on the one-twos — just a smothering performance. Denmark's lack of star power was telling — there was no one to take on England's defenders one-v-one. Then again, it's the same stifling D that repelled the star-studded Argentines. Had Danny Mills not coughed up the ball against Sweden, England would have four clean sheets. Now, it's probably on to Brazil. And they have a real chance if they can stifle Brazil as they did Argentina, because Brazil doesn't defend well in its own box, and England has thrived on corner kicks.

England's Unlovely Triumph
Uh, the British Lions are the rugby team, Bill (and then only when they fold in the Irish, Welsh and Scots, which for some oddball reason FIFA has never required). And England-Denmark certainly looked, a lot of the time, like a loose scrum. I agree with Mike Elliott that Rio Ferdinand has established Serie A credentials as a defender in this tournament, and he appears to have the useful knack of being able to scare opposition goalies into what would otherwise pass as unforced errors. But there was little to like in England's sound but mostly pedestrian performance — no spark or sparkle, just old-school doing the business. They deserved their win, but football is none the richer for it.

Indeed, the most enriching bit of football so far in this world may have been Portugal's performance in the last 20 minutes against South Korea. A goal down and only nine-men strong, watching their World Cup dream disappear, they refused to lie down and die. Inspired by the magnificent Figo, they never stopped running, and running intelligently, till the final whistle. Their depleted numbers meant they had to rely on their superior ball skills to even up the odds, and that meant taking men on, which they did that in spades. Portugal had nothing left to lose and a World Cup to gain, and they showed their best selves (perhaps for the first time in the tournament) — and the game at its finest. When Conceicao's brilliant volley struck the woodwork in the dying minutes, the world (except, of course, fans of South Korea and the USA) wept with him.

Where Was Denmark?
Thanks for nothing, Denmark. The time to demonstrate collective pass ineptitude, yellow card virus, goal phobia, and a keeper with serial epilepsy was last Tuesday, NOT against St. George's Inflatable Dolls. Had the Danes played like that against France, les Bleus might'a made it through (or would have if they could have scored...Okay, so maybe this entire thing is a moot point). Despite the score, I think England's chances to take it all are flaccid at best. The white and red-hearted must quiver at the idea of having to face Brazil — and for good reason. We'll see.

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