Japanese Sun Rising

Though the viral video of Japanese footballers smashing pots with Jabulanis™ might have been a put-on, having seen the Japanese performance against Denmark, one might be led to think that some similarly bizarre and obsessive training had been done with the Nippon Daihyō.

One could imagine them waking with the ball, taking it to the bathroom with them, perhaps balancing it on their nape while seated upon porcelain; later, breakfast beckons, and the ball is cradled gently upon their bellies, moving with every breath, and to accomodate the most subtle lump of food entering the stomach.

Such was the touch they had on the Jabulani™ this Thursday, that the world could not but bow in deference to their mastery. The first free kick, executed by the otherworldy Keisuke Honda, was a marvel of commanding flawed technology; a tricksy, unpredictable missile weaving its way through the air Royal Bafokeng Sports Palace, finding its way into the corner of a hapless Danish keeper’s net.

The young Japanese star, not unknown to watchers of the UEFA Champions’ League, is surely the Next Big Thing. The lad has an air about him of being of another class of football: the truly world-class. Talk about a special one. The goal he set up a few minutes from time was sublimely done; a deft touch and sublime pirouette. The fact that he passed it to his number 9 Shinji Okazaki speaks volumes of a player for whom grace and spectacle are but the icing on the cake for a footballer who can play with the best of them, anywhere.

And finally, the second goal, a stunning free kick by Yasuhito Endō, will go down not only as the first time there have been two goals from free kicks in forever in the World Cup, but as the first time anyone has struck the Jabulani™ with an effective inwards/inside of the foot curve. Poor Thomas Sorenson, victim of the unpredictable.

And predictably, another horrific refereeing farce, with the South African official booking arbitrarily for time-wasting in the first 15 minutes of the game when nobody else noticed. Not to mention an absurd yellow card for jumping to Bendtner. And a ridiculous penalty dive that almost-almost–put Denmark back into things. This latter one was only overshadowed by the Tomasson futility penalty, blocked, and its injury-plagued follow-up.

Role Reversal

Stunning change of roles in Ellis Park.

To begin with, a referee and his team actually did a good job in the WWF. I mean World Cup. For the most part unobtrusive–increasingly rare in World Cup referees–the team led by Englishman Howard Web was spot on and did not take the attention away from the stunning match before our eyes.

Only for a few moments did attention fall upon them. Firstly, when Martin Skrtel controversially cleared an Italian shot off the line that would have been the Italian equalizer. No call, no goal. It happened in a split millisecond, at so difficult an angle for any refs to see. Not even multiple, slow motion instant replays could reveal whether the ball actually crossed or didn’t cross the line. So quick that not even the Italians had the time (or the certainty) to protest.

A second moment was the offsides call on a Quagliarella disallowed goal in the 2nd half. The players did not protest but for the obligatory raising their arms in protest. TV replays were initially inconclusive, but eventually showed that the call was an accurate one, close though it was.

Finally, a couple of incidents involving Mucha, the Slovakian keeper, in which he was harangued by Italians trying to get the ball out of the net from him, very nearly sparking a brawl were it not for the unyielding firmness of Webb, who managed to deflate the incident and refused to reward both the time-wasting of the keeper and the play-actiing of the Italian in the incident.

And in the end, the other great reversal, which was Slovakia playing like the stereotypical Italian side. Ugly, but efficient. Few chances, but deadly finishing. Physicality combined with a healthy dose of play-acting and time-wasting. A spectacle whose morbid attraction was the possibility of the reigning champion going out in the first round. This fixture did not disappoint.

The image: a true captain, Cannavaro escorts a sobbing Quagliarella off the field. A touching moment of true dignity on a night that will be tainted with ignonimity for Italian fans.