LA Weekly

This World Cup is not dull!  And it isn't the Americans who find it dull, it's the Brits, or some of them anyway.  (Or Americans schooled on soccer there.)   One Englishman I know, despite his being a lifelong fan who basically shuts down his business during the Cup and who said he would kill himself if England wound up losing to the French, deemed the Germany-Argentina match fantastic.  And no one at the Egyptian Theater who paid 10 bucks to watch it on a 60-foot screen seemed bored.  (Perhaps some of our correspondents should buy bigger television sets!)  Those who are bored obviously haven't watched too many MLS games, if any.  (If club play is in fact more interesting than the World Cup, it's only club play in the Premiership, or in Spain or Italy -- and no doubt Brazil.)  In the end, though, soccer is indeed a dull game if it takes the wizardry of a Zidane to make it worth watching.

And he is amazing to watch.  (The free kick into Henry for the Brazil-France match's only goal was indeed magic.)  But so are the Christiano Ronaldos and Lionel Messis, to state the obvious, as well as the lesser pleasures of soccer -- the efforts of an Owen Hargreaves, say, pushing the ball at full speed (near the end of a grueling overtime match) up the left side, somehow out-hustling the defender and crossing into the penalty box; the similar efforts of the nifty David Odonkor after subbing in for Germany;  the spectacular sliding take-away by I forget who on a streaking striker; even, simply, some deft passing in the midfield.  This is not dull.

Could it be more exciting?  Yes, of course.  When an England repeatedly prepares to attack, rather than simply attacking, and allows the defense to set themselves, it's a drag -- or can be.  But this happens in basketball and hockey, too.  Fast breaks are fun, but not always prudent, or well-suited to a particular team.  There are things soccer could clearly do to liven up games in which Zidane is not playing -- allow more substitutions, for one, which would likely up the goal count; do something about the over-carding (comparatively speaking, the quarter finals were masterfully officiated).  But one of the great pleasures of soccer is precisely the high failure rate: it usually takes something extraordinary to actually get a goal and the joy it sets off is arguably unmatched in sports -- not just in the stands but in the player himself.  Consider the pure boyish ecstasy on Beckham's face after his free-kick goal and, by comparison, the typically stoical home-run trot, or the Kobe glare, or some silly dance in shoulder pads and football helmet; hockey, not surprisingly, comes closest, but even then, they're skating in pads, they're not running down a field as if they've just gotten away with murder. 

And in the World Cup, it is like murder.  Christiano Ronaldo, the handsome Continental dandy, having already helped to vanquish his clubmate at Man U, the thuggish mick Rooney, confidently took hold of the dagger poised at England's heart and ever so deftly pushed it home.  And after Henry took Zidane's kick on his left foot and volleyed past Dida, the entire Brazilian side looked like the proverbial victim of sudden violence -- what? how? why?  Bleeding, they struggled on before meekly surrendering with only one -- one! -- shot on goal.  None of this is dull.

-- Tom Christie

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