I’ve tried for four years to explain to new American soccer fans what it means to lose to Germany. All metaphors escape me expect for horror films. On the one hand, the German experience is a profound blow psychologically. Even when the scoreline reads 4-1 or 4-0, the Germans always give the other team enough of the ball to make them feel the result was within in reach. If only Lampard’s goal was ruled a goal, if only Dimaria had kept his shot low, if only Romero had commanded his box.
From the audience perspective, the German counterattacks play out like a creepy killer carefully entering and walking through the house. As the masked villain slowly tiptoes down the hallway towards the bedroom, we flash to scenes of the impervious back line, taking a shower. Will Heinze step in time to rule Podoslki offsides? Oh no...he’s decided to use conditioner and can’t hear the killer turning the door handle to the bedroom!
On the other hand, with enough possession and half chances, the victim always manages to kick and punch and wrestle her (or his) way out a window, only to find that she’s stranded on the roof. She manages to wriggle down a nearby tree, but you know the killer is already hiding in the backseat of her car. In this sense, the German victory resembles the finality of surgery, where anesthesia dulls the pain until the very end. Instead of seeing the victim’s eyes as the knife enters the abdomen, the last ten minutes of the match we witness slumped shoulders and half-assed runs. The curtains slowly close and soon the credits role.
This game presented a contrast to the Argentina of 2006, which I argue was built like Dunga’s Brazil. That albiceleste side packed the midfield with Maxi, Mascherano, and Cambiasso – all of whom worked as ball winding bodyguards that in turn supplied Riquelme. The emphasis on possession and organization yielded a draw against Germany, which they won on penalty kicks. This Argentina side rode on the backs of three strikers, sacrificing meaningful possession for offensive forays. Mascherano ran his tail off, but the trifecta of Higuain-Tevez-Messi failed to seriously trouble a packed German center.
The few moments of danger came from Dimaria, which is the closest proximity to a winger that Argentina has produced as of late. The lack of width, and notably of overlapping runs, was the antithesis of Brazil’s over-reliance on the galloping Maicon. Yet neither served either country in their quest to advance past the quarterfinals. For all the talk of nationalism, of how importing foreign players dilutes national teams, the two largest suppliers lost to the Dutch and the Germans. And in 2006 they lost respectively to France and Germany.
So the only answer is for the respective Argentine and Brazilian leagues to open up a large pipeline for German, French, and Dutch players. Or something like that.
Regardless, the press will jump on Maradona for the lopsided defeat. Still, he took his side as far as Pekerman four years ago, albeit losing in emphatic fashion. The Argentine questions of “por que no puso a Milito” will cascade throughout the internet, but such tactical substitutions and ruminations will amount to little. The Germans on their day are always one step quicker, jump an inch higher, stay composed in the box, and are a few steps behind you with a shining dagger in their hand.