Germany continue to perplex, a team of paradoxes cloaked in dazzling technical promise yet often weighed down by their own elaborate machinery. This, we were told, was the most gifted German side in living memory — a symphony of midfield virtuosi who could mesmerize opponents and slice through defences like a hot knife through butter. Their 4-0 opening demolition of Portugal seemed to herald precisely that future.
And yet,
since then, the arc of their World Cup story has tilted away from the
spectacular and toward the painstaking. A wobble against Ghana, a laborious
edging past the United States, and now this — a night in Porto Alegre that
teetered for long stretches on the brink of embarrassment. Germany ultimately
overcame Algeria, 2-1 after extra time, to book a quarter-final rendezvous with
France in Rio. But if victory was fully merited by the end, the route there was
strewn with untidy footnotes.
For the
first half, Germany’s play was less a symphony than a discordant sketch. Their
patient, almost meditative possession lacked urgency, bordering on the
ponderous. Algeria, by contrast, sprang forward with zest and without fear,
pressing high and pouring into the channels that Germany’s aggressive defensive
line left gaping. Löw’s exhortations from the sideline — urging his back four
ever higher — only heightened the sense of peril.
It was an
uncomfortable spectacle, one that sometimes drew smirks of disbelief from the
German fans. Even Manuel Neuer, that modern avatar of the sweeper-keeper, was
compelled into repeated dashes beyond his box to clean up desperate situations,
at times with the grace of a libero, at others with the reckless energy of a
gambler pushing his luck.
Algeria were chasing more than a place in the next round. They were chasing ghosts, hoping to exorcise the specter of 1982’s “Disgrace of Gijón,” when a choreographed stalemate between Germany and Austria ensured Algeria’s cruel exit despite winning twice in their group. That sense of historical burden infused the night, the Algerian players from that era urging their modern heirs to settle old debts. Early on, it seemed possible. Islam Slimani’s header found the net, only for an offside flag to cut short the ecstasy. Ghoulam slashed wide. Mostefa’s strike fizzed just past the post off Boateng.
Slowly,
inevitably, Germany’s possession began to squeeze the oxygen from Algeria’s
lungs. By the final minutes of the first half, their midfield carousel — Kroos,
Schweinsteiger, Özil — was starting to carve patterns, though it still lacked
the cutting edge to transform geometry into goals. M’Bolhi, Algeria’s vigilant
sentinel, denied Kroos and then produced a reflex masterpiece to keep out Götze
on the rebound.
Much has
been made of Germany’s abundance of playmakers, as if cramming as many artists
onto the canvas must automatically yield a masterpiece. But this overstock of
central technicians often left them without natural width or the raw speed to
unhinge disciplined defences. Still, football is often a war of attrition, and
Germany’s relentless phases of passing eventually pinned Algeria so deep they
struggled to breathe, much less break out.
It was only
after Löw reshuffled, introducing André Schürrle for Götze, that the contest
began to tilt decisively. Schürrle, a player who attacks space with hungry
directness, gave Germany something that all their intricate midfield ballet
could not: unpredictability. His first touch was nearly a fortunate goal. His
later header from Kroos’s cross tested M’Bolhi again. Lahm drew another
sprawling stop.
Algeria’s
counter-attacks lost their earlier menace, though Slimani still found a moment
to unleash a shot of rare venom that slammed harmlessly into Neuer’s body, the
finish lacking the precision to match the power.
The game’s
pivotal moment arrived early in extra time. Thomas Müller — so often the impish
agent of German destiny — twisted inside and saw his cross deflect awkwardly.
Schürrle adjusted with balletic finesse, letting the ball skip behind him
before flicking it in off his trailing heel. It was a goal of audacious
invention, a flourish worthy of unlocking such a fraught tie.
Algeria,
their reserves of hope finally drained, conceded again at the death. Schürrle
and Özil combined, the latter hammering home to extinguish any lingering doubt.
Djabou’s late volley was a gesture of defiance too tardy to rewrite the
narrative.
Afterwards,
Löw framed the ordeal in starkly pragmatic terms. “It was a victory of
willpower,” he insisted. “At a tournament, you can’t always play brilliantly.
It’s about surviving.” Per Mertesacker was more pointed, bristling at aesthetic
critiques: “Would you rather we played beautiful football and went home? This
is not the last 16 of Mickey Mouse teams.”
Indeed,
Germany’s journey has become less about high art and more about the dogged
mechanics of progression. They remain, in many ways, a puzzle still assembling
itself — a gallery of elegant talents occasionally obscured by their own
abundance. But football’s cruel simplicity means such puzzles can be solved
with the blunt tool of a single goal. Against Algeria, it was Schürrle who
found the decisive piece.
In Rio,
against France, Germany will have to show that their beautiful promise can be
sharpened into something remorseless. For all their artistry, the World Cup
does not reward sketches. It crowns those who learn to paint in blood and sweat
as well as light.
Thank You
Faisal Caesar
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