Congratulations to a very worthy and deserving Spain for securing their first World Cup title.
Condolences to the Dutch, who did not exactly do their Clockwork Orange-era compatriots especially proud with their thuggish and ungraceful (and occasionally disgraceful) play. Regarding that automatic red card-worthy karate kick, the only conceivable explanation for why the ref did not immediately send the goonish De Jong to the dressing room is because (in the moment) he did not want to soil the world’s most important sports spectacle by putting a team one man down so early in the game. But the game was already soiled by that unconscionable act of unsportsmanlike conduct. Anyone that does not have Dutch blood flowing through their veins had to decide at that moment that Spain deserved to win the game. Justice was done and although it was a pretty forgettable game, that was a pretty exciting goal (and at least the match did not go to penalty kicks –which always imparts more drama but is invariably a graceless conclusion to an event that deserves more).
Speaking of an event that deserves more…if there is one thing to complain about every four years, it is that the final games are (inevitably? understandably? necessarily?) lackluster. It is perhaps an unavoidable reality: this is the game and it only comes around once every four years so of course any mistakes might equate to memories a player (and country) will live with for the remainder of their lives. (Speaking with friends we agreed that there really hasn’t been a remarkable final game since…as long as we’ve been watching. Few recall the Argentina victory –over the Dutch– in ’78 and Italy over West Germany in ’82 was decent but not breathtaking; everything after that ran the spectrum from merely boring to downright forgettable.) But unlike the Super Bowl, which more often than not results in a lopsided smackdown, the World Cup final tends to have teams playing ultra conservative soccer while doing everything not to lose. With the aim of eliminating error they also eliminate drama. And soul. But it’s, (ironically?) a rather small price to pay after a month of tension, excitement and yes, drama. This World Cup has to rank amongst the best, game-for-game, in the last two decades.
And, of course, for us Yanks there was the goal and the call (eternal props to the inimitable Andres Cantor):
In honor of the Spaniards, here is a sublime interpretation of Concierto De Aranjuez (Adagio), by the remarkable (as well as enigmatic and as yet unmasked) Buckethead:
And the work that inspired it, from one of the coolest dudes that ever lived, Miles Davis:
And the original (1939), from the great Spanish composer Joaquin Rodrigo:
