June 16... Day 17
The first two games of the knock-out stages were nothing to write home about so I'm looking for something better today, hopefully a wee Father's Day treat, and SENEGAL and SWEDEN certainly didn't let me down. Both teams were very positive in their approach and got my Sunday shift off to an excellent start.
And didn't Hooray Henrik do well. There are times when I think he has to be the luckiest player in the world. There he was after just 11 minutes, nipping around the penalty box looking for somebody to bump into, the ball comes over, stoats off his napper and bounces into the net. You couldn't make it up! And the TV commentator is ranting and raving about 'the Celtic man doing what he does best'. Oh yea? So why didn't Sweden get two or three penalties?
Never mind, Senegal didn't take long to put his gas in a peep. They have been by far the most impressive of the African nations and have shown that their opening day victory over France was no fluke. They ran the Swedes ragged for much of the first half and it was only matter of time before they drew level. Henri Camara was the hero, dancing around Mjallby as if he wasn't there and sending a neat 20 yarder into the net.
I felt Senegal always looked the side likeliest to win this one. Sweden obviously missed Ljunberg and, with the ref not falling for any of Larsson's antics, they didn't cause the African defence too many problems. It was something of a surprise that the game went into extra-time and I began to worry that the Swedes might hold out, then fluke it on penalties.
But once more Henri Camara did the business, again ghosting past the invisible Mjallby to dink the winner past Hedman 14 minutes into extra time. Hardly surprisingly, Senegal went bonkers but I was most amused by some of the shots of the heartbroken Swedes. There they were, flat out on the grass, Larsson and Mjallby close to tears. Not unlike Cup Final day! Tee-hee.
Being Father's Day, I decided to take Big Daddy Blue to the local Ganghut for a liquid lunch and very nice it was too. I've never seen so many Spanish Orangemen in all my life! And when Morientes headed SPAIN into an early lead a real fiesta was on the cards. But for some strange reason, they took the foot off the accelerator and let IRELAND back into the match.
The main feature of this game was the way the Irish used the offside trap and Spain's inability to beat it. Twice the linesman's flag robbed them of the second goal which could have killed the game and slowly but surely you sensed that Eire would get something. When the referee was fooled by a Duff dive - has he been watching Henrik? - Ireland got a 63rd minute penalty but justice was done when Casillas saved Harte's kick.
Earlier I referred to Larsson being the luckiest player in the world. Iker Casillas has to be the luckiest goalkeeper. A few weeks ago he was second choice at Real Madrid but the number one got injured and he came on for the last 20 minutes of the Champions League Final, made several crucial saves and, at just 22, picked up his third European Cup winners medal. Then Spain's first choice keeper dropped a bottle of aftershave on his foot and Casillas gets the number one shirt. Somebody up there definitely likes that boy.
When Hierro tried to rip the jersey off Niall Quinn's back in the last minute the Irish got another penalty but this time Robbie Keane took it and did a much better job than Harte. With Spain having already used their three subs, they were forced to play the hal-hour's extra-time with ten men when Abelda was injured and I began to fear for the Spanish. They have a long history of pressing the self-destruct button in World Cups and the possibility of them paying for not pressing home their early superiority began to cross my mind.
In the end I was happy to see the game go to penalties, convinced that Senor Luckybag between the posts would do me a turn. And he did! He saved from Connolly and Kilblane, Holland hammered his penalty over the bar so it was all down to Mendieta to wrap things up. Mind you, Spain had also made heavy weather of their penalties, missing twice, but the former Valencia men was as cool as you like when he rattled the winner into the pokey.
The Ganghut then rocked to the sound Viva Espana and one or two more traditional (Northern) Irish folk songs and Big Daddy Blue deserves a special mention. Well oiled, he was only too happy to lead the community singing and he later declared this to have been the best Father's Day of his natural. Then again, maybe that was just the drink talking.
All in all, not a bad sabbath day at all. Larsson out. Mjallby out. The Republicans out. Praise the Lord and pass the vodka!