It’s just a blink […] but it’s one of the thousand things you remember, go back to, incorporate into your own vocabulary of feelings. Amazing. Freedom and death, right there, right there, razor’s edge, forever.
(William Gibson, “The Winter Market”)
Oscar Cardozo had a chance to make football history for Paraguay today, 14 minutes into the second half. Eleven meters and Iker Casillas: that’s all there was between him and that swishing sound of a Jabulani inside the goal’s net. But, as anybody who played some football could tell you, kicking a penalty is more a matter of head than feet. Peter Handke and Wim Wenders must pardon me, but they got it all wrong: the fear, the angst of the penalty kick is felt way more by the kicker than the goalie. The latter may be under pressure, but all in all he knows he’ll hardly be blamed if the ball goes in. But the kicker, no, he has to score. And while he approaches the penalty spot, eleven meters become eleven miles, the goal seems to shrink, the keeper grows gigantic, the ball suddenly weighs a ton. You’re on the razor’s edge. If you don’t get yourself together, if you can’t slow down your heartbeat and clear your mind, you will miss. And that’s what happened to Oscar Cardozo, as he sent the ball, weak, predictable, into Casillas’ hands. What happened after that, how the story ended, is a matter of public football records.
And yet, what happened at the end of the game, just after the final whistle was blown, was a moment that made me remember - more than any great goal or amazing game we’ve seen in this WC, and we had many - why I love football so much, why I love watching it, commenting it, writing about it, why I loved playing it so damn much, why I’m still so drawn to a football field these days despite my messed up knees and everything.
As Cardozo, dejected, confused, cried and staggered and tottered on the pitch, literally in shock, he was first consoled by his teammates; but soon, Iker Casillas himself, and then other Spanish players, rushed to him, interrupting their deserved celebration, to hug him, comfort him, help him getting together. Many spoke to him, a hand on his shoulders or head; I can only imagine what they said, how they tried to ease his pain. Football players are usually men of few words, but they have a common vocabulary - of feelings and gestures more than words. Made of victories and defeats, built out of triumph and failure and scars and sweat, shared by the winner and the loser, the millionaire pro star and the 5th division player training in the mud at night after working hours.
It is because of those gestures and those feelings, that moment of deep human brotherhood amongst fierce opponents, that today’s endgame goes in my book as the most meaningful moment of this World Cup. No facepalm jokes and memes for you, Cardozo. You fought the good battle, with all of your heart, and for that we thank you. Receive the hug of us all, football players around the world.
Source: theworldsgame
