Undefeated first round losers
The soccer or football (for those who care for the game) World Cup is in full swing. Obviously you know that, if you can figure out how to use the internet, feed yourself and switch the TV on from time to time you’ll know this. I’ll admit, I’m not a huge soccer fan. I was born in Canada where we are far more into our national game of ice hockey. Now in my adopted home of New Zealand, rugby rules supreme. The two countries have much in common; beyond the single sporting focus is the notion that our second favourite sport is whatever we are doing well this week.
As a sporting fan I’m drawn to the spectacle and athleticism of the World Cup. Much in the same way the Olympics captives me every four years – I’ve found myself suddenly caring about what the goal differential is between the North Koreans and Uruguayans. New Zealand has a team in this years’ tournament for the first time in 28 years – the fact they are even there is a huge accomplishment. As a nation NZ was totally content to make up the numbers. Simply to be there was enough, with our 87th world ranking there was no illusions that the trophy would be heading this direction.
Then disaster struck. They drew their first game against Slovakia. All of a sudden the country started to believe and I started getting a hell of allot less sleep. With the time change, the games kick off at a rather painful 2am, mid week to boot. The New Zealand contestant in the Miss World pageant was quoted as saying that she thought NZ could win the whole show (she was also pretty confident on world peace, bless her). But she wasn’t alone, people started to think that the impossible could actually happen. And then the Kiwi’s played Italy. This was where the dream was supposed to end, the thumping to turn the skyrocketing dream earthward.
Then the unimaginable happened. New Zealand and Italy tied 1-1. How was that even possible? In Italy there are 3000 professional football players, NZ has 21. There isn’t a professional league, one of the Kiwi starters hadn’t played a game of club football in two years and the goaltender broke his leg six weeks ago. This set up the game last night to be the game of games. If NZ could manage a win against Paraguay they would be through into the next round, the top sixteen.
So last night I had dinner, watched the late news, tucked my wife into bed and sat on the couch. For the next three hours I was subjected to some of the worst television imaginable – so punch-drunk with fatigue I nearly ordered that Zumba DVD as I waited for the game to start. Drifting into my sporting coma I remembered why I’ve never been a soccer fan. Half way through the first half the game was deadlocked at zero. The ball had rarely moved beyond the central portion of the field. There hadn’t been a shot in the entire game and both teams seemed content to play a style of game that would put the hyperactive into hypnosis.
Then the unimaginable, after all the effort, after all the build-up, with the potential for sporting immortality at the doorstep – the bubble burst. I fell asleep. Out like a light I woke on the couch at 5am as they were doing the final wrap-up reiterating that the final score was a deadlocked nil all draw. I’m all for the overall excitement of the tournament, the Cinderella stories and the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. I just wish they could pot a few more goals along the way – is that too much to ask?
I should of flicked over to Wimbledon, those guys know how to wrap up a game quickly…
