Seven

By AM Wednesday, July 9, 2014

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Anthony McIntyre

Often in life it is better to cut your losses and run. If you can manage to slip ashore before the tide goes out then nobody will notice your nakedness to the same degree. Given its many glorious beaches where the ebb and flow of tides are watched routinely, it would be expected that the Brazilians would understand something about timing.

But life’s not like that. We carry on in the hope that the tide will carry us over the line and in the same movement will erase whatever clumsy footprint we leave in the sand. Chile would have done Brazil a favour in the dying seconds of extra time in their last sixteen match had they shot six inches lower rather than have a superb effort rebound off the crossbar. Brazil could have exited the tournament not with grace but with a lot less ignominy than they did last night. They would also have been spared the unedifying spectacle of having to return to play in the obligatory clash in the decider for third and fourth place. Even if they win Brazil will not be considered the third best international team on the planet. Same if they lose: few will grant them the accolade of being the fourth best. 

Brazil will not be remembered for getting to the semi-final but for floundering so hopelessly while contesting it. For a while throughout this tournament it looked as if the side might do a rehash of the Argentine venture at Italia 90 and, with the aid of bad refereeing decisions, stumble through to the final with neither grace nor dignity. Argentina were lucky. They had Maradona, still capable at 29 of hauling the lacklustre teams he was often part of to higher planes. With Neymar kicked out of the competition by Colombian retaliation that possibility nosedived dramatically. Up against the methodical Germans the magnificent Rio tide was truly out and the Brazilians were cruelly exposed in all their wayward woefulness. The Germans performed a great service to soccer last night by a ruthless culling of any lingering delusions rooted in a sense of entitlement that Brazil is a good team. 

The humiliating thrashing the team sustained at the hands of the Germans increased in likelihood as the Brazilians ventured deeper into dangerous territory minus the supplies necessary to complete the journey. Brazil never improved from the first game to the last but at each step of the way they were coming up against teams that had. The scythe was always going to come down. The Reaper could just as easily have been Holland, perhaps Argentina. The one redeeming factor for the Brazilians was that their humiliation came at the hands of distant Europeans rather than close South American rivals. In the end the Brazilians were punished severely for the brazen effrontery of playing seriously ugly soccer in a sport reputed to be ‘the beautiful game’. Before the harsh glaring eyes of a global audience Quasimodo stood unmasked.

The days of Samba soccer as it is called did not come to an end last night. The last great Brazilian side to grace a World Cup did so in Spain in 1982, over thirty years ago. They took the World Cup twice after that but with pedestrian teams, not dazzling ones. Worthy, yes, but dull. Now, even that has abandoned them. Not even dull, just done.

Seven at one time was something Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman acted in. No longer. Brazil was the serial victim in this murder movie.