Graham's Blog

Running right alongside Brazil 2014, this is my day-by-day story of how Spain won the last World Cup. You can catch up on previous posts.

These stories are from Spain: The Inside Story of La Roja’s Historic Treble, by Graham Hunter

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The people of Potch have died and gone to heaven. Spain have qualified, the media pack are going to stay and spend money for at least a few more days, NW University continues to receive a worldwide profile and the downtown mall is a footballing Hollywood.

There is a traffic jam of off-duty Spain stars in eateries. In one, Del Bosque is having dinner with his wife Trini and their children Vicente, Gemma and Álvaro, when they see Xabi Alonso, Fernando Torres, Raúl Albiol, Juan Mata and Sergio Ramos walking through the door. The Del Bosque kids insist on getting their pictures taken with the stars. Dad is just dad, but Xabi … well, he’s Xabi.

Again, only Casillas refuses to take the evening off. The night holds particular significance for three peripheral men, two of whom will have a pivotal influence on La Roja’s progress in the tournament.

Training is open and during the practice match there is a slight tangle of bodies. Fernando Llorente leans into Albiol in order to get his telescopic leg into a challenge. The defender falls in the least dramatic manner imaginable, but one of his studs has caught in the turf and Albiol is in trouble. He is stretchered from the pitch and taken to hospital. Llorente, the newbie, looks shell-shocked.

The match finishes and this time there is an improvised mixed zone round the back of the changing rooms. The players must pass the media on the way to their meal and the bedrooms, but at a distance of about 15 metres. The Spanish reporters are desperate to get Llorente’s side of the story, but when he eventually emerges from the dressing room he has a bodyguard.

Pepe Reina has one of his arms around Llorente’s shoulder and is walking him along. Reporters petition the striker for an interview, but the response comes from the Liverpool goalkeeper: “Fernando has got his tea waiting lads and then I’m going to beat him at table tennis – can’t stop, sorry.”

It is another example of the tournament mentality central to this team’s success.

Running right alongside Brazil 2014, this is my day-by-day story of how Spain won the last World Cup. You can catch up on previous posts.

These stories are from Spain: The Inside Story of La Roja’s Historic Treble, by Graham Hunter

—

Chile v Spain

Uno y dos y tres … ganar y ganar y ganar!

In the hours before this match, every one of the Spain players confront the fear that this might not be their night and their World Cup could be over. They all know that it will be regarded as a calamitous failure should the champions of Europe fail to get out of their group.

They shirk away from the thought of the rabid nation that would await their early return. But their real fear is that of letting themselves down. They know they are potential winners here. Fear crackles everywhere.

One senior player, whose identity I will preserve, turns to another en route to the match and tells his team-mate: “I’m crapping myself.” His colleague is shocked. “The silence on the bus ride from the hotel to the stadium was terrible,” Del Bosque will subsequently recall.

David Villa: ¨The hours before that game were the most nervous I can recall since I joined the national side.”

Gerard Piqué: “There was so much silence, everyone was lost in their own world, thinking about what they could do to help the team get through.”

Xavi: “You could see it on everyone’s faces, this was an extraordinary tension.”

Del Bosque’s team talk is shorter than a drunken Scotsman’s temper.

“Okay, I say this every day but more than ever now, don’t get suckered into making mistakes. And let’s be united out there. If there’s one guy with the ball there must be two around him. And just one detail. There are many, many lads back home for whom you are examples. Let’s go out there and just do this for them.”

Thirteen seconds. Everyone clusters and bows down into the huddle.

One voice: “Uno y dos y tres.”

Every voice: “Ganar y ganar y ganar!”

Del Bosque heads out to the tunnel and for a split second Xavi and Casillas want their voices to be heard.

“Never mind what we won two years ago, never mind going home with honour never mind playing football with a smile on our face. This is life or death, this is the match of all our careers. We must win.”

It is an asphyxiating match for the European champions, until a sublime intervention from David Villa.

Chile playmaker Jorge Valdívia, talented but sloppy, is robbed by Xabi Alonso, deep in Spain’s half and with hardly any effort. Worse for Chile, Gary Medel, a midfielder who is playing centre-back tonight, fed Valdívia and has continued his run in search of a return pass. Chile are exposed and Alonso sees it instantly. He clips a long pass to Fernando Torres and, seeing El Nino is going to win his race with Gonzalo Jara, goalkeeper Claudio Bravo decides to sprint out to rescue his defender. Well outside his area, Bravo slides into a powderpuff clearance, but Villa has anticipated what is unfolding. He is on the run down the left wing and as the ball drops to him 40 metres out he uses his left foot to crack a volley, while he’s in full-flight. The ball arcs beautifully from left to right, bounces just once and curls into the far panel of the empty net.

Thirteen minutes later, Chile are trying to begin a move down their left, but the ball played to the full-back Jara is loose and Iniesta is on it. He intercepts, bursts forward, feeds a pass to Torres on his right and the Liverpool striker puts a perfect service back into the midfielder’s path. As Iniesta glides on to it he sees Villa out to the left of the penalty area and fizzes the pass; Chile’s defenders commit thecardinal sin of following the ball. Villa opens his body and returns the ball intoIniesta’s now clear path and the midfielder uses his instep to cushion a volley intothe far panel of Bravo’s net.

While the players are celebrating, the Mexican referee is across the pitch sending off Chile’s Marco Estrada. During the move, once Torres had fed Iniesta, the striker continued his run, looking for a back-post cross, but Estrada clipped his ankle and Torres went flying. It looked like an inadvertent error. Moreover, it was off the ball and during the move Spain scored. Nevertheless Senor Marco Rodríguez won’t budge on his decision, the referee’s second red card of the tournament stands.

Spain are 2-0 up and they are playing 10 men. When they concede a deflected goal within two minutes of the start of the second half, it simply makes things unnecessarily uncomfortable.

Then, with about 15 minutes left, Marcelo Bielsa starts gesticulating to his team: ‘This will do!’ Chile are told to defend at 2-1 down, and, although it is horrible to watch, that is what they do. For what feels an interminable time (“the most placid 15 minutes of our tournament” Del Bosque later calls it) Chile not only retreat behind the halfway line but a good 15 yards inside their own half. If Spain do not attempt to cross halfway, Chile simply let them have the ball for as long as they wish. They refuse to compete.

Previous Group H results mean that Switzerland, drawing 0-0 with Honduras at that moment, will not only have to win but to score two unanswered goals to qualify. However, if Switzerland score once, win 1-0 and Chile concede a third goal, then Chile are out. A far more threatening and more likely scenario. Captain Casillas tells his defence that if Chile don’t want to venture past the halfway line then Spain will remain group winners: there is an impromptu concord. Switzerland are effectively conspired against and it makes an unedifying, if understandable, spectacle.

Chile 1 Spain 2

Chile: Bravo, Isla, Medel, Ponce, Jara, Vidal, Estrada, M González (Millar 46), Valdívia (Parades 46), Sánchez (Orellana 65), Beausejour

Goal: Millar 47

Spain: Casillas, Ramos, Piqué, Puyol, Capdevila, Alonso (Martínez 73), Busquets, Iniesta, Xavi, Villa, Torres (Fabregas 55)

Goals: Villa 24, Iniesta 37

Running right alongside Brazil 2014, this is my day-by-day story of how Spain won the last World Cup. You can catch up on previous posts.

These stories are from Spain: The Inside Story of La Roja’s Historic Treble, by Graham Hunter

—

La Roja work out locally because the Loftus Versfeld stadium in Pretoria has just hosted USA vs Algeria and the organising committee is concerned that if both teams train on the pitch tonight, it will not be in good condition for the Group H decider tomorrow.

For this short trip Spain will risk the bus on the N12. The real reason is that if things go against them then the next travel itinerary will be to Oliver Tambo Airport and onwards to Madrid. They won’t need a flight back to their base here in Potchefstroom.

Meanwhile, I grab Sergio Ramos and ask him what he was up to the other night against Honduras. His performance was not 100% disciplined and restrained and thus, perhaps, not quite what Del Bosque ordered, but it was thrilling to watch. He ran a trench into the right touchline, nearly scoring on three occasions.

“Yeah, I wanted to score and dedicate it to someone [female] whom I promised to get a goal for in this World Cup. I didn’t score in Germany four years ago so I promised that over here I’d do a special celebration for her. Hopefully I can fulfil my promise.”

Ramos lives with a swagger, a footballing Errol Flynn. He played with a pain-killing injection at Ellis Park, his ribs flaring with each swashbuckling run.

Sergio Ramos: “I’m delighted to be known as someone who hungers for the big games, the pressure games. Against Chile it will be a massive match, full of emotion. We know from experience that there are masses of people watching at home desperate for us to do well. I like to feel that they can identify with my pride in playing for Spain and my love for the national team jersey. I want it to show.”

Running right alongside Brazil 2014, this is my day-by-day story of how Spain won the last World Cup. You can catch up on previous posts.

These stories are from Spain: The Inside Story of La Roja’s Historic Treble, by Graham Hunter

—

Players who have girlfriends or wives around are given a few hours off to go see them. A group of six players nip down the central plaza to an Italian restaurant (most of the Barça contingent plus Javi Martínez). Torres goes for a wander and causes one or two heart flutters when he gets back to the army check point to discover that he does not know where his accreditation is. Credit to the Bafana Bafana supporting soldier, he knows precisely who El Nino is but just won’t budge an inch until someone from the federation comes out of the accommodation building and walks over to the security point to ‘okay’ Torres.

Meanwhile, Iniesta wanders downtown to the Mooi Rivier mall to idle around the CD library of the big audio-visual store. Unmolested, happy buying music, tranquil again.

Now it emerges from FIFA that Villa is not to be banned for the Group H decider against Chile. Just before half-time against Honduras, Izaguirre trod his studs onto Villa’s toe in search of a reaction. The Asturian gave the defender an open-handed clip on the face. Some referees would certainly have sent him off. However, Yuichi Nishimura doesn’t see it nor does he put it in his report. Case closed.

“It was an instinctive thing, I’m not proud – I’m going try to maintain better control if I’m provoked in future,” Villa reflects.

From their first day with the federation, Spain’s players are taught that it is a sin to be sent off. It is a betrayal of one’s team-mates; it decreases the chances of success; it may well mean another colleague takes and keeps your place in the team. It is a commandment: Thou Shalt Not Be Sent Off. Villa has been lucky.

I’m not too concerned about appearing an old fogey when the first comparison I reach for to sum up the experience with Spain here in Brazil is Kipling. Famously his great work, If states that:

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

And treat those two impostors just the same…

Well, suffice to say that old Kipling, who made great cakes, thought that was a good human trait. I do too.
We came to see what Spain would make of their World Cup defence and, on the pitch, they made a hash of it.

However, when the bitter pill of humiliation was crunched between their teeth, what I liked, what added to my appreciation of this group, was that they reacted – to me at least – with just the same
professionalism, courtesy, friendliness and commitment that I’d seen in epoch-making victory.

Players interested in questions… players willing to face them in the first place. Following the defeats by Holland and Chile, big guns like Sergio Ramos, Fernando Torres and Iker Casillas stopped and confronted humiliation front on. They didn’t skulk and hide, or take the huff. I know that should be the norm, but believe me it’s not.

I’ve seen a Spain group which is still pretty bewildered by what’s happened. They have worked and trained with the same degree of technical excellence (until the last couple of days at least!) as I saw in 2008, 2010 and 2012. Speaking to them over and again, on and off the record, I’m convinced that they’ll need time to assimilate what’s happened.
I’ve some ideas about that, and there has been sufficient access, travelling and living with the team in some cities, to feel sure of what has changed between the three tournaments.

There have been far fewer of their families here. There has been far, far less time off to disengage with the tournament. There have been no double-session days.
Fans? Hard to spot them. They’ve been here, but not at the training ground – not once – and Spain lost the Chile match from the anthem in the Maracana.

As an experience the Maracana was remarkable. The degree of desire and of rabid hunger for victory exhibited by what felt like around 80,000 Chileans screaming their team on was electric. Often, in my profession, you are asked to try to elicit from players what they feel about an intimidating atmosphere – what strength they can gain from constant, uproarious backing. Usually, particularly in Europe, the atmosphere is loud but sanitised. No hint of the outlaw, no real naked, crackling aggression. Against Chile that’s what it was like, right from the hilarious moment that around 50 of them crashed through the media centre trying to break into the ground without tickets.
I’m all too aware of what fan movements like that can do in extremis. Fatalities can result. But this was contained, non threatening and comical to watch. More of that in the Spain book when it’s re-issued and re-vamped in the autumn.
To see chunks of the stadium, carrying 30,000 people, bobbing up and down while the chanting reached fever pitch was superb and nobody will ever convince me that it wasn’t a super charge for the South American Roja.

It’s been a tournament of extremes – from the dank, fading grandeur of Spain’s training base hired from Atletico Paranaense to the utter splendour of their Ipanema/Leblon Sheraton hotel right on the beach in Rio, via the troop invasion of stadia in preparation for the social protests which nibbled around the edges of Spain’s World Cup – but never bit.

An old hero of the tale of this team’s adventures, Manolo el del Bombo, had his tribulations now like never before. He was banned from playing his famous drum in the Maracana, he had it stripped off him at half time in Salvador. For the superstitious, it’s worth pointing out that he stopped playing at 1-1 in Spain’s first game and didn’t bang again until the rout was complete. Obviously, that’s the first point of assessment in the post mortem.

During this football fest, so enjoyable for almost everything else (certainly on the pitch) two key things happened. There was a gentle move away from Spain being a 23-man team to one where some of those not playing began to feel let down and unsure of why they were there.
Secondly, Spain moved from being predator to prey. For years they complained that the majority of teams didn’t want to dance – that they parked the bus and simply tried to clog up the game. By the time the opponents found their boogie, Spain were only ready to waltz.
It happens. This is the end for David Villa and I don’t really expect to see Xavi, Xabi Alonso and perhaps even Iker Casillas again – although it would be a desperate mistake for Iker to retire from international football now.
Then there’s the Mister. He has enjoyed this less. His friendship and his canny, humorous asides in the off-the-record moments we have shared here have helped make my tournament – again. What a gent.
He didn’t make as many spot-on judgements as Spain have proved to need – but in his defence no international manager has ever had so much cause to be loyal to any players.

Here I am now in Curitiba watching the moronic wave less than quarter of an hour into an intriguing and hard-fought final match. A match played on a painted tattie field of a pitch. The victories of the last three tournaments were sweet, fun to witness at first hand and educational. This has been too – less fun, but probably still more educational.

Last words. Spain’s playing philosophy hasn’t been undermined or overtaken. This playing group has just gone an inch or two beyond where it probably should have done. That’s no sin, just a shame. Time passes and it is to football’s glory that we are watching a front-foot, highly athletic but nonetheless terrifically technical tournament.

Turn the page, keep reading. Football’s script is always worth it.

Graham. 23.6.14