Invasion of the penalty snatchers

As a Bengali who followed the deluge of spot kicks on Tuesday morning, one of which finally saw Morocco push the Netherlands out of the World Cup in yet-another tragic Dutch day out at the firing range, all I can say is they’ll be serving kosha mangsho at Casablanca the next few days. Or its Moroccan equivalent, lamb tagine.

Even before Yassine Bounou stopped the Netherlands’ fifth penalty and Crysencio Summerville’s strangely targeted shot (aimed at the keeper), it had started to feel like the object of this game was to ensure that the ball did NOT go into the net. So, when Ismael Saibari stepped up and found the back of the net, all I remember is two Moroccans (Achraf Hakimi and Neil El Aynaoui) and two Dutch (Quinten Timber and Justin Kluivert) players kicking wide of the 24 ft ft x 8 ft mark, and one save by the Moroccan keeper. Who’s been drinking at the wheel in Monterrey?

It’s the Seleção, Forget the Seppuku

But talking of getting drunk, you can’t but help feel bad for Japan, and totally understand if Hajime Moriyasu has allowed his squad to get sloshed on sake to drown their sorrows after Monday night’s departure from the World Cup. Against a Brazil side that, for the most part, seemed to be driving on reputational reserve, Japan was fast and furious in the first half, the 1-0 halftime score--from a delightful run and gliding shot into the top left corner--by Kaishu Sano accurately reflecting the game.

But then, what happened in the second half remains a mystery, wrapped in a kimono, inside a sudoku. Did Carlo ‘Don Carlo’ Ancelotti threaten to unleash the Primeiro Comando da Capital, Brazil’s largest criminal organisation, on the ‘How-now-Seleção?’ if they didn’t start getting their act together? Did the Japanese suddenly get daunted by Casemiro’s dexterously threaded eyebrows, and Neymar’s scowling ‘No one’s asked me out for the Proms?’ looks from the sideline? Or did Ancelotti do the voodoo by 'simply' replacing centre midfielder Lucas Paqueta with striker Endrick, and make a 4-2-4 katana out of a till-then blunt instrument? Because the whole of the second half, Japanese players had turned into frozen yogurt cups made with rich Hokkaido milk.

As if off a Caipirinha hydration break, Brazil huffed and they puffed, taking just 10 min into the 2^nd half for ‘threaded-brows’ Casemiro to blow Japan’s house down by the non-existent hair on Zio Suzuki’s chinny chin chin and equalise. To Japan’s credit—more honestly, to Brazil’s discredit—despite almost total dominance after Casemiro’s headbanger, it took the yellow shirts 41 min to squeeze out the deciding goal. Which is why Gabriel Martinelli’s goal in the dying seconds of extra time felt so odd. It wasn’t. But it felt like it was, because Japan had held on so doggedly, precariously, that a penalty shootout decider seemed the most natural thing in the world.

Curse of Löw
Perhaps, I had been expecting Brazil to be in the landfill that Germany would find itself in a few hours later. Julian Nagelsmann’s side, perhaps looking worse for the Wehrmacht than they really are, were bamboozled by the pugnacious Paraguayans after an unmarked, swooping Julio Enciso goal in the 42^nd min. This despite 21% possession by the Latin Americans.

But one expected the Platzhirsch--top stag—to throttle out the opposition after Kai Havertz’s clinical equaliser in the 54^th min. But it was Paraguay who were doing the throttling by just thudding out space wherever the Germans tried to advance. There was a burst of ‘Ode to Joy’ when Jonathan Tah netted the ball in with a fabulous almost-behind-the-line header in the 103^rd min. But even after VAR dismissed it--Waldemar Anton was found to have fouled Paraguay’s keeper Orlando Gill as the ball had come in—frankly, even the goal being disallowed seemed poetic if not apt.

Ultimately, the law of statistics--and the Curse of Löw, conjured up by former manager Joachim Löw for Germany to win the 2014 World Cup by scratching his nether parts in full view of a billion-plus—caught up to deliver Germany its first-ever World Cup penalty shootout defeat.

So, my Monday-Tuesday World Cup takeaway? To channel my inner Mexican bandit Tuco Ramírez, and repeat from my couch in front of the telly what he said from his bathtub, ‘When you have to shoot, shoot. Don’t talk.’ Or at least shoot on target.