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World Cup Qualifier 2005
Part 3- The second leg - Australian v Uruguay, Sydney
November 16 2005 was the night that Australian soccer (or Phudball, as Les Murray would surely insist) stared down the Fat Lady, who, like visiting pop start, has toured Australia every four years since 1973 to mercilessly mock our nation's aspirations to grace the greatest sporting stage on Earth (AAMI Stadium notwithstanding). Footballinvective.com was there, as were 82,000 hopeful others, in masochistic anticipation of finally achieving the dream to Reverse the Curse:
In the second leg, the Australians rode more of their lady luck in the first twenty minutes, as more Recoba-inspired mayhem, coupled with Uruguay’s ability to completely control the tempo of the game, led to some astounding near misses at the Australian goal mouth. However, the turning point of the tie came at the 22 minute mark when Recoba, who brilliantly looped the ball clear of an advancing Australian defender, was left one-on-one with Schwarzer and a bouncing ball demanding to be smashed into the keeper’s bottom right corner. El Chino hit that ball with enough force, swerve and dip to keep Mr Whippy’s ice cream machine happy, but it landed left of the post. A crucial miss.
It reminded me very much of a Champions League match I watched last season, where Serb Dejan Stankovic (playing for Inter Milan), about 16 yards from goal but with just the keeper to beat and defence all at sea, missed a ‘sitter’. But he hadn’t really missed a sitter, it’s just that Stankovic was trying to showboat and place the ball right in the bottom corner, and in the process, the ball ended up 10 inches wider than he had hoped, just wide of the post. Stankovic had gone for too much. He wanted his shot to be too perfect.
This was Recoba’s fatal flaw. He had wanted his shot to be perfect, and swerve right into that bottom corner with all the power and finesse he could muster. All that needed to happen was for that shot to be anywhere wide of Schwarzer, and the tie would have been Uruguay’s. Perfection could take a hike at that point in time, all things considered. Instead, the whole of Australia breathed a collective sigh of relief, Hiddink’s tactical masterstroke paid huge dividends, the Australians maintained a territorial advantage without seriously threatening Carini’s goal thereafter, whilst the Montevideo Malingerers, on their occasional sojourns past the 50 yard line, looked more dangerous – Zalayeta’s header in the last minute of extra time was from just six yards out, and as soft as any self-respecting bloke’s manhood if they had just seen Dame Edna in the nuddy.
Anyway, down to the dreaded penalties it went; like Russian roulette, only ‘Deerhunter’ style:
The penalty shootout proved again that Mark Viduka cannot be trusted to lead the green and gold charge by himself, and innovative tactical machinations involving a single forward with two attacking midfielders should be dispensed with by Hiddink, in favour of a two-pronged strike force including Viduka AND Aloisi, whose recent goal-scoring record for Australia at the Olympics and the Confed Cup deserves more serious attention. If it means not getting dudded again by more Viduka f**kheadery (or clangers, as they are more affectionately known when the stakes are slightly lower than the tortured hopes of 20 million sports-mad and success-starved fans) at the pinnace of international football, then the price of success at Germany ‘06 is merely a small chip in Hiddink’s tactical pride.
Analysis of Total Football, Oz Style:
Hiddink’s masterstroke was recognising that the main weakness in the Australian squad was its defence, as evidenced by the Carlton circa 2002-5-like calamitous defending by Australia at the Confed Cup and the paucity of individual reliable defenders in his squad. This is historically unusual in Australian football as the Arok and Thompson editions of the national team were always rock-solid at the back (the likes of Charlie Yankos, Robbie Dunn, Alex Tobin, Wally Savor, Milan Ivanovic, Graham Jennings, if playing today for professional European clubs, would have, without question walked into the present day side).
However, Australia has instead been blessed with a glut of quality midfielders, and most with an attacking instinct, and it is on these players that Hiddink has staked his success. The quality of the passing and link up play has been energetic and enterprising, in no small part to the inventiveness of the likes of Kewell, Bresciano and Culina. The collective midfield fitness, along with the defensive screen Grella provides the back three, means that the defence is not overworked beyond its means. In Popovic and Vidmar, Hiddink went simply for experience, whilst Neill was the only name defensive player, and thus, Hiddink put the responsibility of marshalling the defence in his hands, which in the finish, he did capably. In a World Cup, Popovic WILL be found out; Hiddink’s biggest decision rests on who he should choose as his second defensive man-marker – the choice rests between an honest, dependable Chipperfield (though playing out of position), a one-paced, but classy passing type in Ljubo Milicevic, and a proven, though flagging Craig Moore, who, like Popovic, is not playing regular first team football.
Australia’s best team for Germany ’06, as selected by footballinvective.com:
Goalkeeper: Mark Schwarzer - still overrated, but no-one can argue with those penalty saves now
Sweeper: Lucas Neill - Hiddink has converted him from hack right-back to accomplished sweeper – more genius from the Dutch master
Stopper 1: Tony Vidmar - rejuvenated stopper in the twilight of his career
Stopper 2: Scott Chipperfield - offers more pace and flexibility than the one-paced Popovic – honest and dependable, another played out of his conventional position [left wing-back] by the Orange Oracle
Claude Makelele role: Vince Grella - curiously spurned by Farina for years in favour of North Geelong boy Joe Skoko – Hiddink sees that the laws of the universe are restored once more
Left Wing: Harry Kewell - Hiddink must find a semi-roaming role for the ex-Leeds star, as Kewell’s long range shooting can be devastating, particularly if he can cut inside from the right wing [not unlike that French pleasure machine and undisputed king of razzle dazzle, David Ginola]
Right Wing: Brett Emerton - the right-footed equivalent of Stan Lazaridis – about as ineffectual as they come, but he can carry the ball 20-30m forward at a time, providing short-term relief from extraneous defensive pressure
Central Midfield 1: Marco Bresciano - first player on the team sheet – needs to sharpen up those dead ball skills though; Recoba is living proof of how dangerous a free kick specialist is at the highest level of the game; Australia in both legs had numerous corners/free kicks but the delivery from the likes of Bresciano, Emerton, Chipperfield was about as effective as Rectinol for a high grade low rectal cancer
Central Midfield 2: Jason Culina - has come from nowhere – accusations of scandalous South Korean multinational-style nepotism from this footballinvective.com writer [old man is Director of NSW Coaching and ex-coach of Melbourne Knights, Sydney United, Canberra Cosmos] should now be thrown in the same dustbin as the newspaper article which quoted Recoba as saying that Uruguay had a ‘divine right’ to World Cup football. Last year’s top Australian goalscorer in Europe has been magnificent for a couple of seasons and will be a permanent fixture in this team, now that Hiddink has him under his wing at PSV
Centre forwards: John Aloisi and Mark Viduka - heed previous comments of warning
More Miscellaneous Socceroo invective:
Tim Cahill – you can just tell that Little Timmy was the sort of kid in under 8’s who used to take advantage of the ‘no offside’ rule and just sit next to the goalkeeper and tap the ball in when it eventually came to him; one of the most frustratingly untalented players I have seen for a long time, the poor man’s Paul Scholes has carved out a living for himself scoring cheap, unaccountable goals ghosting in unannounced from midfield. This only works in the Premier League because almost universally speaking, Britain remains in a tactical football vacuum, but at international level, managers will just do the logical thing and stick a man on him. The Goose must only use this guy sparingly, and in specific situations (i.e. 15 minutes to go, needing a goal) – otherwise, like most public Victorian companies in the 1980s, he is simply a huge liability.
Archie Thompson – Hiddink tried to deploy him as one of those tricky attacking midfielder types, but Archie is just a fun-loving forward, and his tendency in the opening match was just to sit next to Viduka, which is his natural game. This clashed with the Hiddink view of the world, and he was substituted, never to return. That Archie should go to Germany 2006 is beyond question, but his role in the team is not. If Hiddink sticks with the Viduka single forward plan, then Archie’s going to need to pack some forceps to pull all those splinters from his butt. If Hiddink relents and plays with two forwards, Archie is back amongst the living, although, he would probably still need to wait his turn with Aloisi solidly back in the mix. Archie’s spontaneous nature though makes him a very dangerous player, and his time in the Belgian first division has made him a vastly improved package. No stranger to the razzle dazzle is our Archie: anyone who bore witness to that breath-taking goal in the A League against Sydney FC earlier this year, where he beat 6 players in the space of about 5 meters and trickled the ball into the net, will know that razzle dazzle is just another essential ingredient of the Archie diet.
Simon Colosimo – just as Chris Judd has been the unwitting victim of numerous homoerotic allusions from various footballinvective.com writers, and just as Bucks has been the willing participant in similar indecent proposals with Eddie, Simon has been a favourite of this footballinvective.com writer since his days at Carlton where his brilliant play at sweeper earned him rave reviews. However, since Andy Cole re-arranged his knee in that friendly against Man United all those years ago, Colosimo has had to watch on as his good mates Grella and Bresciano win first team places with the Australian national team and big contracts with Italian Serie A teams. That Colosimo was the most promising of the three is almost beyond question. Simon struts his stuff in the A-League with the Perth Glory now, but just seems to have lost some of his mojo at the minute. A fit Colosimo, firing on all cylinders, would be a massive boost for the Australian squad. The understanding he shares with Grella and Bresciano is unparalleled. A core midfield trio comprising these three amigos (you could see the pun coming) at their peak would be impregnable. Hypothetically, one could even get rid of Emerton, and get Culina out on the right. A win-win for all concerned.
Hero of the Second Leg: Guus Hiddink - THAT substitution/re-shuffle at the half hour mark, bringing the laborious Popovic off and thrusting the gifted, yet underachieving Kewell into the limelight, with almost instant reward and a Bresciano goal, was, quite simply, the football manager’s equivalent of f**king on cocaine.
Cult Figure of the Second Leg (x2): 1. Mark Schwarzer – THAT second penalty save; even my mum could have saved Rodriguez’s kick. 2. Tony Popovic – fantastic pre-meditated clothesline on Alvaro Recoba, minutes before being dragged by Hiddink, a soft-porn version of THAT Rod Grinter whack on Terry Wallace circa 1988.
Clanger of the Second Leg: Richard Morales - the Michael Gardiner of Uruguayan football. That bungled header at the commencement of the second half after being the fortunate recipient of more quality Recoba delivery was typical of the type of sitter Australians have been well known to squander in crucial World Cup qualifiers; Morales’ two goals in Montevideo that helped sink Farina’s tugboat have been well described in the football media - perhaps less well known to footballinvective.com readers is that Morales has a record of missing crucial sitters in big games for Uruguay. At Korea/Japan 2002, with Uruguay 3-3 against Senegal and with just minutes remaining, Morales again was presented with a simple header to give the Poor Man’s Argentinians what would have been an incredible 4-3 victory (3-0 down at half time and with absolutely nothing to lose, the Uruguayans abandoned the Martin Pua [the man who put the ‘Fatman’ back into ‘Jake and the Fatman’] edict of boring the opposition into submission and put on a clinic in the second half with the Senegalese playing the role of witches’ hats) and almost catapult them to the second stage. Suffice to say, Morales fluffed it – Senegal would go on in the tournament and push the Turks in to extra time in the quarter finals.
Honourable Mention for clanger of the second leg: Ned Zelic – Much has been written about the career path of this highly gifted, but ultimately, unAustralian, footballer. Having made his debut in the NSL with Sydney Olympic as the definitive libero, a defensive player with silky skills and an innate capacity to move forward when the tempo of the game enabled him to make that defense-splitting pass or shoot that long range goal, Zelic soon rightly carved out a reputation that would see him earmarked as a future captain of Australia, but even more so, as Australia’s first truly world class player. His destiny looked like it was going to be fully consummated on that fateful day in Utrecht against the Dutch in THAT Olympic qualifier, when he scored two goals in the 2-2 draw that got the Olyroos through to the 1992 Olympics.
That second goal, a stupendous effort from the touchline that left the Dutch goalkeeper, Edwin van der Sar (yes, the same Edwin van der Sar that plays for Manchester United, has won over 100 full Dutch caps etc, etc) scratching his head in disbelief, was indicative of the heights Zelic’s career could have attained. The Dutch team that Zelic almost single-handedly destroyed included the de Boer twins, Dean Gorre and Marc Overmars, among others, all world class internationals.
Post-Olympics, Zelic found himself at one of the power clubs of Europe, Borussia Dortmund. But living off the glory of a wonder goal in Utrecht and a fine Olympic campaign does not keep you at a club like Borussia Dortmund forever. And the true Zelic began to appear - the arrogant, egocentric Zelic, the Zelic who thought that those around him were not of his calibre; Dortmund shipped him off to QPR, and three years later won their Champions League trophy and barely missed him; QPR shipped him off because the hard grounds of boggy London hurt his knees (no bull), and then, like a stray Alsatian, was invited to play at numerous other clubs in Germany, Japan and Europe because of his undoubted pedigree but with little lasting success, because like all stray dogs, Zelic had no sense of loyalty left, no sense of pride.
The final straw came not when he refused to play for Farina (I don’t blame him for that, neither would I), but when he claimed that he should have chosen Croatia rather than Australia as his national team of choice. A fatal error of judgement, a mistake he would surely rue for the rest of his life. That other Aussies have taken the Croatian path has been well documented (i.e. Joe Simunic, Ante Seric being the two most high profile cases, whilst Joe Didulica couldn’t get a game for Australia anyway) but there’d be no sour grapes from Aussie fans towards those players, and certainly no promises would have been made to them had they stuck with the green and gold – the decision has been made, and they’ve moved on to fine careers. Zelic, on the other hand, had been feted as an Australian champion, a hero – there was a sense of obligation which he preferred to ignore. Yet when the going got a bit tough, and at the height of his petulance, he announced to the world that he would rather colbert Australia than stick it out with the green and gold.
Watching the SBS post-match coverage of that momentous second leg was a lesson to all that hubris and conceit, no matter what sort of talent is attached to it, is no match for humility and strength of character. That unflappable legend of the world game, Mr Phudball himself, Les Murray, resplendent in his natty Italian suit and stylish, Richie Benaud-style white hair, was seated next to Ned Zelic (centre of picture) and Craig Foster (right of picture). Craig Foster was beaming, with his George Clooney/Richard Gere grey hair beautifully highlighted, and simply gushing at the heights those Australian heroes had reached, congratulating one of his ex-teammates (Tony Vidmar) for finally making it. He couldn’t speak highly enough of Vince Grella, whose midfield role was similar to the one Foster would have played in his prime. You see, Foster too had been a failed Socceroo, but not through want of trying. A midfield workhorse with perhaps not the same level of talent as a Kewell or a Zelic, Fozzie made a big impact in the NSL with Adelaide City before moving to Palace in the English League 1. Foster is universally admired for his work ethic and professionalism as a player – his naked ecstasy at Aloisi’s nail in the coffin of Australian footballing failure was one of the great joys of the night – the sign of a man whose dreams had, in some small part, been consummated.
Contrast that with the dishevelled carcass of a soul
that was Ned Zelic. Tie undone, suit untidy, unshaven; speaking in a dull,
dismal monotone that betrayed his own sense of emptiness and inner futility.
On the happiest night of Australian football there will ever be until the
World Cup finds residence on these shores for four years, (probably another 32
years from now) all the wretched wannabe colberter of Australia could say was:
‘I don’t believe it.’ Zelic, a 34 year old coodabeen, in a state of
utter disbelief, psychologically crushed by the reality that Australia
(surprise, surprise) had done it without him. If he had not let his own pride
destroy what looked like being the dream career, there was probably every
chance of Zelic, whilst probably not being in the first XI, at least being in
Hiddink’s squad (especially given the defensive fragilities
afore-mentioned), and with it, a chance of some game time come Germany 2006,
opponents/fitness/tactics permitting. But Zelic, like all colberters, has now
learned the hard way the truth of footballinvective.com’s favourite
self-evident aphorism: that colberting
never pays.
Zelic: Colberter
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