Soccer Slant

The pessimism that has invaded fans of Spanish football in the two years since the traumatic elimination from the World Cup in Germany at the hands of Zinedine Zidane’s French side was especially palpable in the weeks leading up to these European Championships in Austria and Switzerland. With the debate over Raul’s absence dominating the pages of sports tabloids, no one was really focusing on the team’s chances in this tournament. Fans and media alike have been united in their skepticism, and the two friendlies against Peru and the United States did little to squash any fears, or should I say certainties? A series of truisms have been developed by fans and journalists in recent weeks; Fernando Torres and David Villa can’t play together, the defense lacks solidity in the center, Cesc Fabregas looks average for Spain, etc.

David Villa galvanized a nation, with one hat trick and a generally mesmerizing display changed its outlook, its moons, its stars. Now we all seem a little bit taller, a little bit slimmer, and little more handsome. Our complexes, which have so dogged us in tournaments past, are gone—if only for a fleeting moment (at least until Saturday’s match against the Swedes). MARCA’s headline is “Villa makes us dream”; AS proclaims, “Villa nourishes our dream” – How sweet it is to dream!

Spain began the match much like it has most matches under Luis Aragones’ tutelage. Lots of possession, slow build-up, Xavi heavily involved in knocking the ball from one sideline to another, and the two thoroughbreds up front—Villa and Torres—hopelessly yearning for acres of space to stretch their mighty legs. The Russians, as cold and steady as the blood coursing through their veins, calmly accepted the Spanish proposition, and dared to make incursions of their own, primarily by way of left-winger-turned-fullback Yuri Zhirkov, who gave Sergio Ramos more than one headache.

The frustrated Sergio Ramos, who must’ve seen the Dutch clinically dismantle the mighty Italians with rapid, lethal counter-attacks, decided to skip the host of steely-eyed blondes surrounding Xavi and lofted a ball over the top to the run of Villa. His chest trap went slightly too long and it gave the Russian defenders just enough time to clear. It was a seminal moment, as it seemed to discredit all of that build up play that had been practiced until then, as per Aragones’ instructions. Xavi was as sure-footed and willing as ever, but with an uninspired David Silva to his left, and an Andres Iniesta that was seemingly still bothered by an ugly case of food poisoning, the incisiveness was lacking.

It paved the way for the first goal. Joan Capdevila stepped in front of a Russian mis-trap, and in one motion managed to pick up Torres’ run down the center channel. The fancy new overhead cameras showed us a gaping hole open up down the Russian spinal column, but Torres had already seen it perfectly from pitch level. As if determined not to waste his first chance to run in space, Torres fought off Denis Kolodin’s challenge, stared in the face of Igor Akinfeev, the Russian keeper, and laid it off to the streaking Villa, who had never given up on the play. All Villa had to do was pass it into an empty net and take the glory. After spending 20 minutes passing the ball all over the park, Spain covered 60 meters in just two passes, three if you count the one that ended up in the back of the net.

You could almost hear an entire nation rise up from their disbelieving stupor, as if intrigued by the sudden turn of events. Traditional fears crept up after good work from Dmitri Sychev down the right. His cross crawled underneath a sea of outstretched Spanish legs and fell to the boots of Konstantin Zyrianov, whose deft shot bounced off Iker Casillas’ right post. The fears were turned into excitement in the quickest way possible: the counterattack. Seconds later David Villa accepted Xavi’s rapid pass on the right flank, cut inside of his marker to get a better view of the horizon (breathtaking mountain views in the medieval city of Innsbruck, it must be said), instead he saw the diagonal run of Torres and put the ball just close enough to the oncoming Akinfeev that he could probably smell it. Torres’ soft chip went wide of the post.

If the first goal took just two passes, the second goal took two as well, and one work of art. Again the Russians pushed forward in search of an equalizer, but an awful cross to nowhere allowed Silva to spring Capdevila down the left flank. As the Spanish fullback galloped unopposed, he searched out someone who was more apt for these things. That is when Iniesta forgot about his upset stomach to paint a masterpiece, typical of the Barcelona man. After turning Yuri Zhirkov around like a pirouette, he spotted Villa’s run out of the corner of his eye. His side foot pass had the perfect weight, spin, and direction to allow Villa to slot it home under Akinfeev’s legs. A beautiful goal that was made to look easier than it actually was. The 2-0 came just before halftime, when it hurts the most.

One could have expected a fiery Russian response in the second half. However, without their inspiration (Andrei Arshavin, suspended) and their pistol (Pavel Pogrebnyak, injured), the blows were readily accepted by the Spanish defense. The Russians now controlled the ball, but struggled to create much danger. Instead it was the Spanish, always on the counter, who looked more threatening. The best passing move of the day saw substitute Santi Cazorla open it up wide to his fellow substitute Cesc Fabregas. Since the play reminded him of his days at Arsenal he played a one-timed diagonal ball through to Villa, who did the rest. After weaving in out of Roman Shirokov’s enormous legs, he rifled it past Akinfeev on the near post, the one where only the great strikers dare to aim. Villa culminated his hat trick, and with it presented Spain’s candidacy for the title.

Roman Pavlyuchenko’s goal after sloppy defending on a set piece threatened to end the night on a bit of a sour note. Villa refused to let such a detail tarnish his great night, so on his last breath he invented a wonderful scooped pass to the run of Cazorla, whose volley was saved Akinfeev. Ready to pounce was Cesc, whose header culminated the night and buried his own demons with the National shirt.

In the end, it was 4-1 to Spain. The same result in the first match against the Ukraine in the World Cup, which initiated a hurtful sense of overconfidence. Hopefully, the lessons have been learned. For now, thanks to David Villa, Spain can dream in peace once again.