A tale of two worlds

THERE were actually two World Cups taking place over the past four weeks: the one in Germany and the one Germany were in.

A billion people watched the first one on television; millions here became emotionally entangled in the second.

Occasionally the two overlapped — as in that epic semi-final in Dortmund — but mainly they ran happily in parallel. To understand the distinction it helps to have been in Berlin on the eve of the World Cup final itself, at the same time Germany were playing Portugal in Stuttgart in a third place play-off.

A dead rubber, right? Only in the World Cup in Germany. But for the World Cup Germany were in, it seemed to mean, well, the world.

I watched proceedings in a small bar opposite my hotel in the old eastern part of the city and, at full time, the joint simply went nuts. The regulars insisted that I join in their triumphant high fives, even as the man from the diner next door was racing out into the middle of the cobbled street and lighting a huge firework. We all watched open-mouthed as it roared into the night sky with a flaming whoosh, but it seemed to be only the starter signal for even more merriment: soon firecrackers and rockets were going off all over the place, and the cars with flags flying and horns tooting were racing up and down Frankfurther Allee.

The scenes in Stuttgart itself were even more extraordinary, the stadium remaining full for an hour after the final whistle in the 3-1 win over Portugal, with uninterrupted live television coverage showing manager and players lapping up the adulation of an all-singing, all-dancing crowd. The music was Ode To Joy. And one word dominated on the banners: Danke.

And then, yesterday, the capital got its own chance to roar close to a million thank-yous, when Jurgen Klinsmann and his team appeared before the multitudes at the fan-fest at Brandenberg Gate. En route, the team bus passed by the only section of the Berlin Wall still standing — and hundreds of people turned around to face the bus and break into spontaneous applause. As a symbol of what many here describe as the first real flowering of unity in this so recently divided country, the scene could hardly have been bettered. For a brief moment, the passer-by could almost forget that he was on his way to the Olympiastadion for the World Cup final.

And, make no mistake about it, Germany deserved their own grand finale. The team’s unexpected success, and the way in which it captured the imagination of the nation, was a key factor in making this World Cup so memorable for those of us fortunate enough to be here to experience it.

And this World Cup, in turn, fed into the other, combining to make the tournament, if not an outright classic, then certainly the most entertaining and eventful in 20 years. Germany’s version of ‘fussball coming home’, even took a little of the sting out of some of the tournament’s bigger disappointments, such as the fact that the South American challenge fizzled out before the semi-finals.

The Olympiastadion in Berlin on the day that Germany put out Argentina in the quarter final was another occasion when the two World Cups collided to intensely dramatic effect. At a goal to the good, Argentina’s manager Jose Pekerman lost his nerve and, by withdrawing Riquelme and keeping Messi on the bench, helped ensure that Germany would be handed a lifeline that they would willingly grab and hold onto all the way to penalties and beyond.

Not that an Argentine victory was ever assured by any means; study the action again and you’ll see that long before Pekerman turned Tinkerman, Argentina, for all that they bossed the ball, had managed to put Jens Lehmann under very little pressure.

Still, we will retain some happy memories of the Argentines in this competition, and not least because they were responsible for the tournament’s best solo and team goals — the former, Maxi Rodriguez’ sensational volley in that great game against Mexico; the latter, the 24 passes which led up to Cambiasso’s explosive finish in the 6-0 demolition of Serbia and Montenegro.

It’s harder to find a silver lining to the Brazilian cloud, even if Ronaldo did briefly flare into life to overhaul Gerd Muller’s World Cup record. And how this World Cup could have done with Der Bomber — while there was no shortage of great goals, the tournament conspicuously lacked a great goal-scorer. Germany, who bucked the prevailing tactical trend by playing two up front, made the most effective use of their strikeforce but even then, you might say, it was still a case of Klose but no cigar.

While the tournament was notable for plenty of positive, high tempo, attacking football, Argentina, Brazil and Spain all ultimately fell short of the expectations we had of them, while England’s dreary World Cup campaign could only have shocked those who had an unreasonably high opinion of Sven’s men in the first place. Meanwhile, those from whom we expected the least surprised us the most — Italy were always considered favourites to lead the European challenge, of course, but there can’t have been too many who, at the outset, would have bet on Germany, France and Portugal all featuring in the last four.

FIFA boss Sepp Blatter is reportedly concerned that there weren’t enough goals in this World Cup and once Sepp is on the case it surely won’t be long before we hear the usual old nonsense about the goals being made bigger and footballers being bred smaller and all that jazz. Sepp and the boys would be much better occupied finding some high-profile friendly game or tournament at which a video ref could be tested. It is ridiculous that in these finals a French goal against South Korea — in which half the damn world could see that the ball had crossed the line — is disallowed because the powers-that-be seem to think that human error should retain some sort of sacred and untouchable role in the scheme of things.

Still, at least good old fallible refereeing did give us the greatest headline of this World Cup, in the form of The Sun’s cruel but ingenious response to the consequences of Graham Poll’s three-card trick: ‘Fool Poll’s Coming Home’.

Finally if, as an Irish football fan, you’ve sat at home and wondered what all the fuss was about out here, well, you’ll find out soon enough on September 2, when Steve Staunton’s team visit Stuttgart to face a resurgent Germany — although whether the Nationalmannschaft will be with or without Jurgen Klinsmann remains an open question.

Either way, Ireland’s Euro campaign suddenly seems a whole lot tougher.

Germany may not be champions of the world — but, believe me, in Stuttgart in September, it will feel like they are.