The Agony and the Ecstasy (Jeremy)

I have one confession to make; despite playing AFL, I am also a soccer fanatic. I am one of those people who went into mourning when SBS lost the rights to the English Premier League to Pay-TV, I am one of those people for whom the A-League seems to have managed to breathe new life into what, in Australia, was a dead game. I must admit that, deep down, my heart truly does lie with AFL but soccer comes a close second. AFL is far more dynamic and on a physical level asks more of its athletes than pretty much any other game on the planet, but in terms of skill, it cannot really match the round-ball game for technique.

So, it was like this, full of expectation, that I made my way with three other mates to one of their houses. The reasons are simple; one, it’s always better to watch with mates, and two, Mate In Question has a large projector and a big, white wall. It’s an ideal setup, as long as, of course, no-one stands up at the back. The couches are all moved to face the wall; out come the marshmallows and the Natural Confectionary Company Snakes. They taste so damn good, they’ve got to be unhealthy for you. I try to remember the last time I ate marshmallows. It would have been a very, very long time ago.

After the usual banter between Les Murray (who we are expecting to spout a halo any minute now), Craig Foster and the other Phoodboll Analyst, Nick Theoko… Theodro… oh, I give up, finally we’re taken down to the pitch in Kaiserslauten. We all settle back in our seats. Enough of the talking over the last six months; it’s finally happening.

The anthems play. All the Aussies have their hands over their hearts but one of them (Culina?) chooses not to sing. The eyes of the small children in front of them follow the camera with eager look-at-me anticipation. The Aussies, Viduka especially, maintain straight-ahead determined vision. They look resolved, yet nervous. Why shouldn’t they?

Despite anything the media may well say in the leadup to this game, any gently-gently you’ve-done-well-already suggestions that Australia might be a dark horse to come second in the group (and the media has been light on the Socceroos ever since Guus took over), the truth is there and plain and simple; that it is not just the weight of the last thirty-two years that weighs down on these Socceroos. It is the weight of Australia’s entire footballing history, and for one very good reason; that this is the best team that Australia has ever assembled, bar none. Australia has only ever produced one other player the equal of Kewell in sheer talent, and that was Craig Johnston of Liverpool fame in the late eighties. It is also a watershed moment in Australian Soccer; AFL has not yet taken root in Sydney whilst the NRL is busy dealing with crisis after crisis, and has never had the pulling power in its own states north of the border to match the AFL in its own homeland. The A-League has just been launched and has been an enormous success story, the only real blight in which is the inability of New Zealand to remain competitive. The upshot of all this, of course, is that if the Socceroos make the second round, then it could just be the shot in the arm that soccer needs in terms of takeup rates at the grassroots level in this country.

The other, more suffocating weight, on the backs of the Socceroos is that it seems so much to be a case of now, or never for this squad. The backbone of the team is at a stage where this is their last chance to atone for a national history of perennial underachievement. Viduka, Kewell (barring an amazing run with injury), Schwarzer (and his understudy Kalac) and Craig Moore will not be around in 2010, and, perhaps more importantly, Moore is the only one who seems to have any sort of obvious replacement in the wings. Kewell in particular will be missed next time, should he not play, because it is him who plays differently to the rest of this Socceroos lineup. It is not just his skill that makes him important, but also the fact that he breaks up our passing game and makes us a little less predictable. In short, in a team that plays like a country which has grown up on a diet of AFL and Rugby would play, Kewell is a rare gift.

That said, despite Kewell’s infamous no-shows at international level, the player who no doubt will be shouldering the biggest burden in green and gold is Viduka. Of all the Australians lucky enough to be wearing the strip tonight, it is Viduka who has, by far and away, had the most successful club career. To say it has been a clean run for Viduka throughout his career would be fairly apt. Starting with the now-defunct Melbourne Knights, Viduka starred at a local level, from whence he moved to Croatia Zagreb and then followed this up with a few seasons of nonstop net-bulging with Scottish giants Celtic. After being an integral part of the European-Contending teams at Leeds, he is now the main man at Middlesbrough in the upper reaches of the elite English Premiership.

So how has his international career been so barren? Some blame complacency; others the lack of a decent out-and-out strike partner like he has with Hasselbaink at Middlesbrough. Unlike Kewell, he did not manage to atone in the qualifiers against Uruguay; and it is fair to say that without him, Australia’s attack is lost. Without Viduka’s head to aim at, Bresciano and Kewell’s ability to cross loses a lot of its importance to the squad not to mention the fact that he is simply the best striker that this country has.

The lineups come up, and Hiddink has pulled a surprise by naming the barely-capped Wilkshire and the not match-fit Kewell in the starting eleven, and the more accomplised (than Wilkshire) Josip Skoko and Tony Popovic on the bench. What’s he playing at? The Japanese lineup contains ten Japanese faces and, as the camera pans across, one Brazillian. Alessandros Santos, says the teamsheet, or just “Alex”. We shrug. If you were a Brazillian right-back, you’d probably need to move countries to get a game in the national squad too.

We start to doubt our own complacency as soon as the ball is kicked off. The signs are not good. The Australians look nervous on the ball through the middle of the park; the Japanese are more settled and fast to rebound once they get the football. Alex in particular, playing at right back, is giving Australia and Wilkshire (who appears to have been brought into the team specifically to play on him) some headaches. Within about a minute, Bresciano brings a Samurai down on the edge of the box. It’s a very, very dangerous freekick.

The Australians quickly organise into a wall. This is the last thing that they need; to concede within the opening two minutes. Schwarzer barks orders from the left post. In comes the kick; it cannons into the wall and balloons harmlessly over the touchline. We breathe a collective sigh of relief on the couch.

The game begins to find its natural tempo in the heat and as the Aussies settle down on the ball, they also begin to take over control. Viduka is doing brilliantly upfront and his strength is giving the Japanese headaches in the penalty area. Neither Kewell nor Emerton look particularly comfortable feeding off him in the centre of the park, but Bresciano has no such worries. On six minutes, a brilliant piece of work by Bresciano sees Viduka through clear on goal, on a relatively sharp angle. We tense. His initial shot is well saved by Kawaguchi, but the rebound falls straight to Viduka’s left foot. His second shot produces an even better save from Kawaguchi, and the ball drops – just – over the top of the net. The replays give the Japanese keeper full credit for the saves; Viduka really could not have hit his shots any better.

The Australians are beginning to dominate the game and are looking particularly dangerous through the centre of the park; the wings aren’t offering too much, to be honest, especially Wilkshire who looks outclassed by Alex at right-back and isn’t giving much going foward. The Japanese cause the occasional headache going foward with their speed, sucking the Australian midfield too far up before exploding away, but Neill and Chipperfield are tackling well. The Bresciano/Viduka combination seems to be working well with Viduka holding up the ball fantastically well in the box for the midfielders to latch on to.

Suddenly, on twenty-four minutes, the ball is played foward to Viduka. With a deft little back-heel, he neatly taps the ball into the path of Bresciano who is through on goal. The couch tenses up in anticipation, half-ready to punch the air. Bresciano could have an extra touch and draw the keeper out but he doesn’t. Instead he shoots, low and to the keeper’s left. The save by Kawaguchi is one out of the box. He strains every sinew and saves with the fingertips of his hand. The ball rolls out, rather fortuitously, to a defender who is all too happy to hoof it out of sight. We really should have scored then. Within the minute, Japan has the ball on the flank in one of their rare forays foward. In sails Nakamura’s cross, looking fairly harmless and too close to goal. Schwarzer comes out for it but is stranded behind the pack when Nakata crashes into him and knocks him offline. The ball bounces on a cruel, pathetic arc into the net. “FOUL!!!” we all yell from the couch, and Simon Hill on television agrees. Hiddink is furious and tries to watch the replay on the pitchside referee’s television. The replay doesn’t just confirm the foul, it accentuates it. Schwarzer goes for the ball and is already in trouble when Nakata crashes into him from the side with little thought for the ball itself, knocking Schwarzer to the ground. As my good mate Squish says, that wouldn’t even be allowed in AFL. It is a cruel way to concede after thirty-two long years. Thirty seconds after the restart, Kewell, in unfamiliar territory in the centre of the pitch, thumps a shot towards the goal. The keeper didn’t see it, no-one would have; it flicks the crossbar and crashes into the advertising boards behind. The two minute period seems to sum up Australia’s game so far; the better of the chances, and yet still down one-nil. The stadium is incensed at the referee; Australia had not gotten the better side of the decisions before and that did not help matters one bit. Bresciano curls a freekick just wide of the upright and then halftime comes, none too soon for the Aussies. The goal unsettled them.

Half time comes and Josie grabs us both a drink of water. I sit back and think; the situation is not good. We’ve had the better of the game, have clearly won through the midfield but we are still one-nil down and we are not a side that finds goals easy to come by; only one goal in 210 minutes against Uruguay speaks for itself. Emerton and Kewell have looked cramped in the middle of the park whilst Wilkshire has just been outclassed off the ball at right back, and has given Australia very little attacking impetus when on it. Grella and Moore have looked solid at the back, and Neill has tackled well. Surely Cahill must come on now for Wilkshire, leaving either Bresciano or Emerton to swing out to the right. The other few aces up Hiddink’s sleeve are Aloisi, the super-tall Kennedy, and possibly the quick Thompson or Sterjovski. Kennedy in particular looks likely as Viduka’s size is already causing the Japanese problems.

The Cahill move comes at fifty-one minutes, and we all have to look twice to make we can believe who we’re seeing coming off; Bresciano? The couch is split; he’s playing fairly well, and had it not been for a great save in the first half, would have been on the scoresheet by now. Simon Hill the Learned tells us Bresc has been battling to overcome an ear infection; I just can’t believe that it wasn’t Wilkshire who came off. Cahill immediately puts his stamp on the game; a classly pass almost puts Viduka through and then he picks up a yellow card. Down the other end, Schwarzer is caught in an uncomfortable situation where he is forced to head the ball away from his own penalty area. Takahara is too busy congratulating his own excellent positioning and the chance goes begging. We on the sofa start to breathe again. That would have just about done it. Still, we’re in enough trouble already. It’s beginning to look like a mountainous task to get back into a game that we really need to win in order to make the second round. The heat is starting to sap our fluency and the occasional mistake is starting to creep into the game.

On sixty minutes, the right move is made and as soon as Craig Moore picks up a yellow card, he comes off the pitch to be replaced by the skyscraper Joshua Kennedy. Kennedy does not fail to impress, causing the Japanese some concern with his size and a few neat touches. Immediately Australia looks more balanced, especially going foward as Emerton drops back to help out with defensive duties. The attack-minded Australians leave a few holes at the back as the search for the equaliser becomes more desperate; at one stage Lucas Neill is isolated at the back with the two Japanese strikers. The scenario looks obvious; draw Neill with one player, put the other clear and Japan 2-0, goodnight Australia. Japan stuffs it up inconcievably badly. The pass is made far too late, and when it is, it’s made behind the second striker. The shot on the turn poses no threat to Schwarzer. The couch seems to groan with relief, though we’re still behind. We really should have been buried then.

Viduka is given a freekick on the edge of the area and here the Japanese Keeper Kawaguchi comes into his element. The freekick was excellent; it barely tickled the wall before calling for a full-body stretch and dive to the right from Kawaguchi who manages to palm the ball away before it trickles harmlessly over the line. Finally, the inevitable happens; Wilkshire comes off to be replaced by Aloisi on seventy-four and a half minutes. In all truth, it’s happened seventy-three and a half minutes too late; Wilkshire has been outclassed by the more experienced and stronger Alex on Japan’s left. Aloisi comes straight on and collects Australia’s fourth yellow card; minutes later he takes a freekick in a position not dissimilar to Viduka’s. Aloisi could not have hit it any harder if he tried and it has a fair bit of curl on it, too. We can’t believe it. Kawaguchi pulls another rabbit out of his hat. The goal is looking impenetrable, like Fortress Kawaguchi. He has stood between Japan and defeat so far today.

Japan are truly beginning to wilt, especially through the middle, and their strikers are seeing very little of it. Their counter-attacks have lost their meaning somewhat; with ten minutes of normal time left, they seem content to simply defend. Suddenly, on eighty-four minutes, when it looked as though Australia was going to be conspired to a controversial defeat, the unbelievable happens. A throw-in curls in from the left; Kawaguchi makes his only mistake for the day and comes for it but fails to punch it clear. There is a mad scramble in the box and Cahill manages to put in a goal that can only be described as tunnelball as it neatly splits both Aloisi’s left leg, right leg and two Japanese defenders. We don’t care. It’s a goal. The couch goes wild. We’re back in this one, and looking the stronger too. Six minutes to go, plus extra time; is it too much to hope for? Immediately Cahill almost makes a villain of himself at the other end, making a careless and late challenge in the Japanese box. We all stay silent, which we all know means of course that it should have been a penalty. That makes up for the first goal which should have been disallowed, to be honest, in a very Australian sort of a way.

If we thought what came first was somewhat divine, what came next was equivalent to parting red seas. Aloisi passes to Cahill, who is allowed acres of space by the Japanese defence. One step foward to balance, swing and shoot. The ball cannons into the goal off the left upright. No-one could have saved it. It’s an unbelievable goal which has suddenly turned the match on the head and turned seven otherwise mature and responsible adults into screaming maniacs at one o’clock in the morning. To cap it off, Aloisi (fed this time by Cahill) works his way nicely into space in extra time and fires home another one. Japan is buried.

On the way back to my mate’s place, we can’t stop buzzing in the car. We’re on a natural high. The cars scream down Lygon St, tooting their horns. It’s fantastic. Cahill has fired Australia to their first win in World Cup history. At least we now have one win to show for our efforts; Guus Hiddink (who himself went nuts on the touchline) has attained Legendary Status in this country, despite signing with Russia straight afterwards. And, down at AFL House, Demetriou will be having second thoughts about the popularity of AFL. This next weekend will be a very interesting one.

Enjoy your study and your World Cup; I sure as hell have been;

jez