A night of high drama

Throughout the tournament, I watch the games alone, sometimes from the bed in my hotel where the TV plays on even after I have fallen asleep (not surprising esp for the 3am matches).

There is one match though that the entire family was watching: J right next to me in the den, M with her I-House friends in NY and D in the kitchen (only listening to the cheers). D has the kindest disposition and can't bear to see Argentina and particularly the little man, Lionel Messi lose and after seeing Di Maria and him combine for the first two goals in the first half hour of the match, she couldn't bear the suspense of watching another hour of the match.As is often with her pronouncements, D was right. What a drama of a match it was. 

Consider this scribe from New York Time's Rory Smith as the teams went in for their half time break:

Even Argentina could not have imagined that the first half of the World Cup final would go quite that well.

Argentina has a 2-0 lead and appears on the cusp of its first World Cup championship in more than a generation after a first half that ticked pretty much every box.

Lionel Messi scored the opening goal, after Ángel Di María won what was admittedly an extremely soft penalty, and then set in motion another — a flowing attack finished by Di María that will go down as a bona fide classic World Cup goal.

Argentina has kept Kylian Mbappé not just quiet but essentially silent. It has forced Didier Deschamps, the French coach, into a double substitution before halftime, which can be simultaneously regarded as bold, decisive action, a commendable decision that he had got his setup for the game wrong, and a form of blind panic.

France carries enough of a threat, though, for Argentina to be at least a little wary of what happens from here on. It has just 45 minutes to hold on to win the World Cup for a third time, to give Messi the crowning glory of his career. But those 45 minutes are likely to feature wave after wave of French attacks, led by some of the most devastating players on the planet.

The second half started like the first. Argentina pressing and the game was played mostly in France's half. The Argentinian players, to the man, played with 100% commitment. Fighting for every ball, covering every yard... even every inch. So, D's premonitions were perhaps misplaced, until the last 10% of regulation time where France (Mbappe, in particular) scored twice to take the game into extra time. 

As always, D is right and her not quite watching from the sidelines was indeed good for her kind heart. In extra time, Argentina pressed again and was again rewarded with a Lionel Messi goal. And as is scripted by an oscar-winning screenwriter, in the last 10% of extra time (last three minutes to be precise), Mbappe scored again to take the game into penalties.

I'll let Rory Smith recount the night for us all. 

LUSAIL, Qatar — Lionel Messi had to wait, and wait, and wait. He had to wait until he was reaching the sunset of his glittering, glorious career. He had to wait until he had already tasted the sting of defeat in a World Cup final. He had to wait even after he seemed to have inspired Argentina’s soccer team to beat France in this year’s final on Sunday, first in regulation time, then again in extra time.

He had to wait until after he scored two goals — but Kylian Mbappé of France, his heir apparent on the world stage, had gotten three, becoming the first man to score a hat trick in a World Cup final in more than half a century. Regulation time ended 2-2; extra time ended, 3-3; and then there were penalties, which Argentina won, 4-2, the last twist in the most extraordinary final in this tournament’s long history.

Only then did Messi’s wait, his agony, come to an end. Only then could he finally claim the one prize that had eluded him, the one honor he craved above all others, the one achievement that could further cement his status as the greatest player to have played the game: delivering a World Cup championship to Argentina, its third overall but first since 1986.

A wild, raw energy had swirled around Argentina throughout this tournament. It coursed through the streets of Doha, packed with tens of thousands of Argentine fans for the last month. It washed down from the stands during each of the country’s seven games here, a pulsating, urgent electricity.

The players detected it, too, their euphoria after every victory just a little more intense, just a little more desperate, the pressure of not only ending Argentina’s 36-year wait for a third World Cup but ensuring Messi’s career apotheosis driving them on and perhaps weighing them down in equal measure. The 35-year-old Messi had said this would be his last World Cup, his last chance to experience a joy that he and many of the fans had not felt in their lifetimes.

Everything Argentina did in Qatar was to an extreme. Its loss to Saudi Arabia plunged the team into despair. Each of its subsequent victories unleashed a fervent, unrestrained exhilaration.

Sunday night had teased deliverance. With only a little more than 10 minutes to play, Argentina stood on the cusp. Coach Lionel Scaloni’s team had shouldered the weight of history, the weight of expectation, admirably lightly.

Argentina had not so much as quieted Mbappé as silenced him. It had gone ahead, 1-0, in the 23rd minute, when Ángel Di María was fouled and Messi put in the penalty kick. Argentina flexed its muscle in the 36th minute with one of the most sumptuous goals the World Cup final has seen, a flowing move orchestrated by Alexis Mac Allister and finished by Di María but hinging on a pass that was a moment of characteristic Messi alchemy, a silken touch that turned the most base material into something golden.

For all that time, the 2-0 lead looked like smooth sailing; Argentina should have known it would not work like that. In the space of two minutes late in the second half, France wiped out Argentina’s advantage, all of its painstaking work crumbling in the blink of an eye: another penalty, this one converted by Mbappé in the 80th minute, followed almost immediately by a fierce volley, again by Mbappé.

Argentina’s players slumped, the breath drawn out of their lungs. They had been so close. In an instant it was 2-2; they were as far as ever.

France smelled blood; Argentina could do nothing but hang on for extra time. Messi roused himself again, driving the ball home in the 108th minute after goalkeeper Hugo Lloris made a save on Lautaro Martínez.

Once more, Messi was swamped by delirious teammates. Once more, he stood in front of Argentina’s fans, pumping his arms, an idol and his worshipers. And once more, Mbappé would not be denied, would not accept a cameo role in someone else’s story. His shot struck the outstretched arm of Argentina’s Gonzalo Montiel. Mbappé drilled home the penalty. The game would go the distance, to the sweet cruelty of penalties.

There, for once, it would not be Messi — or Mbappé — who delivered the decisive blow. They both scored. But no matter how teams try to manipulate the order, to direct destiny, penalty shootouts are, invariably, a place for unlikely heroes and unfortunate villains. Kingsley Coman and Aurélien Tchouaméni missed for France, leaving Montiel, an unheralded right back, standing with his country, and Messi’s legacy, on his shoulders.

The noise that Argentina’s fans emitted when the ball struck the net seemed to pierce the sky. Messi’s wait, at last, was over.

In the moments after he had arrived at what he has always seen as both his destiny and his duty, though, Messi seemed improbably, blissfully calm. As his teammates ran to one another, to the massed bank of Argentina’s fans behind the goal in which the final, crucial blow had been delivered, most of them could bear it no longer.

For most, all of that hope, all of that belief, all of that fear broke at once. Di María’s face was stained with tears, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Messi, on the other hand, simply smiled, a brow briefly furrowing in a manner familiar to any harried parent as he tried to work out how his wife, Antonela Roccuzzo, might bring their three children onto the field.

It was only when he embraced his mother a few minutes later that he could maintain his composure no longer, when he finally allowed his joy, his relief, to sweep him away. Messi might have learned long ago that it would not be easy to emulate Diego Maradona, to turn Argentina into a world champion; he could not, surely, have imagined it would be quite this hard.

Now it was done. He congratulated his teammates. He joined them, arms slung over their shoulders, as they danced and bounced with their fans. He found his family, clasped them tight.

And then he was summoned to the stage that had been erected in the middle of the field. FIFA likes to draw these things out; before the World Cup trophy is presented, it must run through the young player of the tournament, the top goalkeeper, the leading scorer, the best player. That final prize went, of course, to Messi. This World Cup was about him. It has always been about him.

He collected his best-player statue from Gianni Infantino, FIFA’s president; shook hands with the assembled dignitaries; and walked off down the podium. The trophy he cared about was sitting there, golden and gleaming, in his sight.

There were a few minutes, yet, before he would have a medal placed around his neck, a ceremonial bisht draped over his shoulders, and the chance to hoist the trophy into the air. It was an hour or so before he would be carried around the field on his teammates’ shoulders, a vast crowd of staff members and partners and children in their wake, a homage to Maradona’s celebrations in 1986, the last time Argentina was champion of the world.

He still had all of that to come. He would have his moment, soon enough. But now he stopped next to the trophy. He looked at it. And then he leaned down, ever so slightly, caressed its smooth dome, and kissed it, once, twice. Messi had waited long enough. He did not want to wait any longer.

Rory Smith is The Times’s chief soccer correspondent, based in Britain. He covers all aspects of European soccer and has reported from three World Cups, the Olympics, and numerous European tournaments.

Image

Messi vs Mbappe, and more

The quarter-finals saw two teams who didn't give up, didn't show fear, didn't panic go all the way to the semis. Croatia and Morocco bested former world and European champions like Brazil, Spain and Portugal along the way. 

In a way, the inclusive sub-plot that ran through the world cup with giant upsets created by the likes of Saudi Arabia, Japan and South Korea in the group stages continued. 

Hard work however takes a toll on the bodies. By the time these team reached the semis, the players have played 6 matches, some for 120 minutes with penalty shootout to boot. 

There is only a finite capacity in the muscles and even the great Luka Modric or Saiss petered out in the semis. Saiss literally had to be replaced early in the match against France and Modric a pale shadow of the playmaker he was in the earlier 5 matches.

Then there is always a tinge of controversy... well, it is the world cup after all. An early penalty awarded to Argentina didn't seem deserved. Morocco also seem to have been denied not one but perhaps two penalties in their game against France. 

It's never easy officiating these matches where some players can run as fast as Olympic athletes and the ball can travel upwards of a 100kmh. 

But what that meant is we have two of the finest players in the world today in opposing teams in the final. One plating in perhaps his second last world cup tournament and the other only in his second. There are teammates in the same Clun (Paris St Germain, where the older striker is mentoring the junior). PSG is now owned by the Qataris, a purchase that happened shortly after Michel Platini cast France FA'S vote in favour of Qatar hosting this world cup. Intriguing indeed, one that only FIFA can script. 

There is of course that juicy Netflix documentary, FIFA uncovered, aired just before the tournament. I watched that with an open mind but came away feeling that the filmaker is as guilty of bigotry (against the instititional capabilities of Africa and the middle east as much as FIFA is guilty of corruption. Plus, the poor economic business case aside, the impact it will have on Qatari society will be largely a positive one. So much for the human rights defenders who cannot even keep their own country safe.

But sticking to football. 

So, here we are, 10 hours before the final game of this world cup. It will be another 4 years before another champion is crowned. Tonight, we will know if Messi can finally match Maradona in carrying his team to a world cup winners podium or is it the more universally balanced French team with a lightning fast Mbappe as the tip of the spear that will emerge victorious for the second consecutive tournament. 

Meanwhile, for the neutral spectator, this promises to be a good game at so many levels. North vs South. Mentee vs mentor. And not to mention, another entertaining match in this awesome world cup tournament.

Rivalries

As I got older, I am finding that I have less passion in which sports team wins or loses. I watched the games for the athletic skills of the players (which I don't and at this age will never possess). I also watch for the human drama. Whether its a selfish Max Verstappen who wouldn't yield a spot to team mate Sergio Perez who has helped him all season or a never give up Lee Chong Wei especially against Lin Dan.

In the case of this World Cup, I had wanted the highest drama: to see the two South American giants battle it out in the semifinal, or even better to see the two finest players in this generation, Ronaldo and Messi, play against each other in the final. Alas, by 1am today, neither of these were possible.

Brazil had lost out on penalties to Croatia and Ronaldo's Portugal lost to Morocco. While the chance of  seeing CR7 against his GOAT rival was not to be, I actually am happy to have a team represent a country, a continent and a culture in the semi-finals. These tournaments have mostly been played either on European or South American soil, and in nearly all cases, a country from the continent would win. Could Morocco having beaten their European neighbours just north of them across the Mediterranean Sea keep on conquering and beat France next and play in the final? They would be the first "outsider" team to do so.

At the turn of the millenium, the first World Cup finals outside Europe and South America was hosted in Asia, specifically Japan and Korea. The Korean team made us Asians proud by making it all the way to the semifinals. South Africa hosted the tournament in 2010 and now Qatar became the first Arab host nation. And an Arab country is in the semi-finals too. So no Argentina vs Brazil, no CR7 vs LM10. 

There was one match up that did happen: England vs France. Expectedly the quality of football is not as high and Mbappe was kept quiet most of the match. But the drama was intense throughout. 3 goals. Unpunished fouls (which unjustly even resulted in France scoring their first). And a missed penalty by their captain and most prolific scorer, Harry Kane (tied with Wayne Rooney).

This tournament has given spectators plenty of drama and let's hope the last 4 matches of this 40-match tournament will give us more

the samba is gone

There are, in general, two types of trilogies:

1. the Star Wars one which begins with A New Hope, then Empire Strikes Back and we conclude happily with the Return of the Jedi.

2. or the Godfather one which chronicles the rise of a reluctant new leader (vanquishing his enemies), then his consolidation of ever greater power (even if it meant killing his own) and finally after a lifetime of sin, even "just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in again" and he had to pay the ultimate price.

A high note, followed by a low one, then a crescendo of happiness. Or a high, higher and then a sad even tragic low end. 

And so it is with the 2022 FIFA World Cup. 

Part 1: The group stage could well be a story of a hopeful more equal world. What with Asian and African teams besting the world champions from Europe and South America. 

However, part 2 of the tournament with the round of 16, the saying "form is temporary, but class is permanent", some of the old empire order seem to have been restored. All the stronger teams (on paper) won, even if some matches went all the way to the Russian roulette of a penalty shootout. 

So, what is part three - the quarter finals - which pits the top 8 best teams in the world against each other, like? On paper, any team can now win. Well, the first two quarterfinals were Europe vs South America. 

And like in the movies, both matches last night had the same plot. South Americans played better. They scored first. Their talismanic best player made their goals. The European opponents however were fitter and fought till the end and had equalised in the last minute to take the game to penalties. Thereafter it is no more about skill but nerves and some luck.

Croatia and Argentina prevailed. 

There is another definition of class, though. Not just about the footballing prowess but about how one behaves in victory as well as in failure. Consider the Japan team who beat both Germany and Spain and then lost in a shootout to Croatia (who went on to beat Brazil). 

And then consider the captain of Croatia, the ever classy Luka Modric, consoling Brazil players after the match.

And then consider the Argentina team who taunted a defeated Netherlands team who just lost the shootout.

And as we march onto the 4, 2 and eventually one winning team, I hope that not just form but also class wins. 

the samba is back

Unlike previous World Cups where I read up well written articles of sporting drama, I have not done so in the 2022 edition, more than halfway through the tournament.

This is partly because I have been watching the matches and had no need to read the narrative of others of how the game unfolded.

And what a World Cup this has been. South Korea beats Portugal! Saudi Arabia beats Argentina!! Japan beats both Germany and Spain !!! (in that so-called Group of Death).

By the Round of 16, there were representations from all contients: two teams from Asia, two from Africa, two from South America, as well as from North America and the Pacific and of course the European teams.

My dad would say, "the ball is round" meaning you cannot predict how exactly it would rest. So results are never predictable. That football is a global game and that nations are investing in its development, it cames as no surprise that the top 32 are of comparable quality. However, by the time the field is halved, the surprises also ceased. All the stronger teams (on paper) won their games, not easily though I may add.

All except one: Brazil, and I was lucky to have caught that game live, and so good was the football that Brazil played that it got me looking for inspirational authorship and I found this one written by Jonathan Liew for The Guardian.

It was a still and sultry night in Qatar’s capital: the grass a little greasy to the touch, the stadium bouncing and jiving, the football from a brighter and less troubled world. And there were times when watching Brazil’s symphonic demolition of South Korea when it was briefly possible to leave behind earthly cares, partake of the simpler pleasures in life, lose oneself in the pure, riotous joy of football.

Brazil really were that good. For the first 40 minutes, as they waltzed and wove their way to a four‑goal lead, they played the sort of football we have not seen from them for many years: special-effects football, computer-game football, football so filthy you needed a cigarette and a shower after watching it.

For 40 minutes Neymar and Richarlison and Raphinha and Vinícius Júnior and Lucas Paquetá blazed little triangles, quadrilaterals, shapes that didn’t have a name yet, shapes embroidered and gilded with wicked flicks and outrageous stepovers, crowned with the choreographed dances they have been preparing for months in advance.

The crowd bayed for more, not because they wanted to see the Koreans humiliated, but because how could you possibly want something this fun to end? It was a reminder, perhaps, that while football may have been invented on the public school playing fields of England, it was perfected on the pampas and praias of Brazil. And it was possible to imagine, watching on a hospital television somewhere in Sao Paulo, an 82-year-old cancer patient offering a quiet nod of approval at this hypnotic whirl of yellow shirts.

Afterwards, Brazil’s players gathered up a banner bearing a single word: “PELE!” It was respectful and restrained, fitting and stirring: everything, in other words, that their preposterous Neymar tribute eight years ago was not. Perhaps this is a Brazil side that are not only inspired by their history, but have learned from it too.

And so, will this be 2002 or 1982? There will be no grace for Brazil in leaving Qatar as beautiful losers. None of this means anything unless they win. The tightly-wound fist of Croatia, who await them in the quarter-finals, will offer an entirely different flavour of test to the cavalier and exhausted South Korea. There remains a qualm or two about the defending, with Paik Seung‑ho claiming a late consolation and Alisson required to make at least two magnificent saves. But really, this was no time for cold realities.

That much was clear from the moment Vinícius Júnior opened the scoring with an incredible, improvised practical joke of a finish: a little punt of the toe, Ronaldinho-like in its cheek. It was Raphinha who set up the chance with some brilliant skill on the right. The clock showed seven minutes.

Almost immediately Richarlison was fouled and the returning Neymar scored the penalty, sending Kim Seung-gyu the wrong way with a little comedy shuffle. That was the point when South Korea may have suspected it was going to be a long evening. Richarlison would go on to score the pick of the goals on 28 minutes: dribbling the ball three times on his head, laying it off, getting it back, and finishing with an affected coolness. Even coach Tite joined in with the jig this time.

South Korea went for it. What else could they do? Alisson made two good saves from Hwang Hee‑chan, but every Korean attack left them ever more vulnerable to the speed of the break, and shortly before half‑time one such counter led to a dinked cross from Vinícius Júnior, finished with a scathing finality by Paquetá on the volley.

That was enough, really. Had they called off the game after 45 minutes, everyone would have been happy. And yet due to competition regulations Brazil were still contractually bound to play the second half, a half that unfolded with roughly the same pace and intensity as a money‑spinning pre-season friendly in Charlotte. And ultimately the Koreans deserved something, even if it was only the footballing equivalent of a party bag.

Paik’s goal, smashed in from long range after Casemiro headed away a free-kick, was a cheering souvenir for the Korean fans, who have been so memorable this tournament.

And so Asia’s World Cup has lost its last Asian team. South Korea have certainly had their moments in this tournament, not least their dramatic win over Portugal, and in particular those few minutes after the end when the entire squad hunched around a tiny mobile phone screen to watch the climax of the Uruguay game. The bulk of their squad probably has one more World Cup in them – Son Heung‑min will be 33 in 2026 – and in the striker Cho Gue-sung they have unearthed a real talent who may soon be signing for Celtic.

But it was Brazil’s night, even if it was not theirs alone. Up in the emptying stands, his bald features framing a thin smile, the Fifa president Gianni Infantino gazed upon the spectacle he had brought into being.

In a way, this was the sort of unforgettable entertainment content he had been craving all along: the point when all the awkward moral questions and irritating Western provocateurs could simply melt away, buried under an avalanche of Brazilian pizzazz. A monster singing in perfect tune is still a monster. So yes, this was Brazil’s triumph. But in a bleak sort of way, it was also Qatar’s.