I didn’t mention Rosetti was going to ref, did I? We need a refs’ edition of tour o’ sex.
One goal, one piece of shoddy defending, one missing headband and one keeper who didn’t beat a man to death.
Last night wasn’t flashy but in the end, no other team deserved to win it.
Spain won every game they played this tournament and did so very convincingly — they didn’t stutter, not even for a moment. After swatting away Italy in the quarter, waiting a whopping 88 years of not doing as much, their leading goalscorer limped off the pitch in the semi with a tourney-ending injury. They scored three goals after that moment. Putting the Russians to bed and proving to everyone that nothing about their run was a fluke in the process.
As for the Germans: they simply didn’t show up last night. Lehmann and Lahm paired up to produce one truly regrettable moment which resulted in Torres’s neat little match-winning goal.
While some people are going to say that Fernando’s boisterous run and strong shot made his goal what is was, I’m going to go ahead an take the common sense view here. Philipp Lahm turned out the sort of performance that makes you question whether a fellow who is 5’7 has any business in the German back line. Lahm’s last gasp goal in the semi doesn’t redeem the shoddy defending he’s managed this month.
[Dame’s note: Yeah, and that’s coming from a lady who likes Lahm. It should be said though, that no one in the German defense seemed right for most of this tournament. Something was off; something didn’t click.]
Things didn’t look better up front either. The fact that I barely noticed that Gomez was playing at all until the cameraman decided to cut to him doing dejected-face in the final minutes of the second half says something. I was under the impression that everyone involved had agreed that this simply was not going to be Mario’s tournament. Wha’ happa’, Loew?
There were also a few moments when I thought the Germans could’ve done without Kuranyi. He was actually that pathetic. Schweinsteiger set the goateed striker — who must do a bit penciling in before he heads out onto the pitch. That bit of facial hair is simply too intricate to be au naturale — up with a few decent balls and he made it his job to waste chance after chance.
So, although Spain did not tell me how my ass tastes, I think I’ll live, guys.
The Germans didn’t deserve this one anyway.