Cod Almighty | Article
by Andy Holt
25 June 2010
So, it's all over. The All-Whites World Cup has ended in the first round, just as expected. But within that fact is hidden a truth - that the nature of their exit was beyond anything they or the nation of New Zealand could possibly have forseen.
Before the World Cup, it was widely felt that winning a point would be something to be proud of. I felt that showing pride and determination and not getting thrashed would be an achievement - and that they'd need three performances of their lives to keep the scores respectable. No-one in their wildest dreams imagined that the All-Whites would have started their final group game with a chance of progressing to the second round. Even fewer would have believed that their destiny would be in their own hands and they wouldn't need to rely on other results to go their way.
In the end they didn't win - a damp squib of a nil-nil eliminated them at the end of the first round, as most has predicted. But they can hold their heads up high, they can feel proud of what they have achieved. The team containing a mish-mash of professional, unattached and amateur players for a while upset the big boys. They finished unbeaten. Undefeated. I wish everyone in this country could see how outstanding that is.
When you consider the group the All-Whites were in you see three teams ranked an average of 55 places above them in the world rankings. Italy, Slovakia and Paraguay - three teams littered with footballing superstars. I remember The Netherlands beating South Korea 5-0 in 1998, I remember Germany beating Saudi Arabia 8-0 in 2002 and I remember Argentina beating Serbia and Montenegro 6-0 in 2006. I feared New Zealand would be the latest addition to the list of small fish being gobbled up when they graduated to the big pond. And yet, they went out unbeaten. Three draws. Two goals scored. Cast by the world media as plucky underdogs fighting against the overpaid commercial face of millionaire football.
The reaction over here, as a neutral, was interesting to observe. After the first match I woke to radio headlines of New Zealand making history. The late, late equaliser against Slovakia had secured a first ever World Cup point. Expectations exceeded. Job done. Well done, All-Whites - you made a nation proud, it doesn't matter what happens now.
People began to talk about the World Cup. 'Soccer' became a staple conversation in the tea room. I even had one colleague ask me that morning whether New Zealand had won the World Cup. She had only caught a brief headline about the All-Whites making history and assumed that must have meant they'd won the whole thing. This just reminded me how much it wound me up to have non-football people jumping on the bandwagon and talking 'knowledgeably' about the game.
Five days later and I again awoke to triumphant radio headlines. This time it was "New Zealand's best ever result in football". The unfancied, plucky underdogs had gone and had the temerity to hold Italy, the World Cup holders, ranked fifth in the world, to a draw. And not only that, but they'd even dared to score first, even narrowly missing a chance to win the match. White Fever tightened its grip on the nation. News programmes ran with stories of what the players had been doing in their down-time. Families and friends of the squad were sought out for 'inside opinions'. Football made the front page of national newspapers while the usual headliners were pushed back to page three or four.
And then this morning the radio headlines stated sombrely that the World Cup journey was over. With all the solemnity of an obituary for a national hero, the score was relayed. The country had started to believe in fairy-tales and dreamed of the second round only to awaken to reality.
In truth, the All-Whites didn't win anything - but they exceeded expectations. For a brief few days they raised the profile of this small rugby-mad country on the footballing world map. Already, however, just a few hours after the final whistle blew on the All-Whites second ever, and most successful, World Cup campaign the country is split. There are those crowing about how we're a rugby nation, how the All-Whites didn't even win a match, how a draw is no achievement really, and how it was nice while it lasted but can we now forget about the round ball game, please. Then there are those that see that even qualifying for the World Cup was an achievement, those that realise that holding these superior teams to a draw is an upset in itself, those that have not forgotten what realistic expectations before the tournament were and those that have the perspective to see the scale of the mountain these footballers have climbed. I most vehemently stand with the second of those groups.
It is true that the All-Whites didn't win a game - but it's also true that they didn't lose either. In a World Cup where Portugal gave a most timely reminder of what happens to the little teams when the superstar millionaires do get their game on, three draws against three teams a world above them in terms of overall talent and resources simply exceeded expectations. But this was not just a narrow exceeding of expectations - this was huge. To perform once and gain one draw - sure that was unlikely, but entirely possible: The other team has an off-day, the All-Whites play for their lives - upsets can happen. But to do it three times? That for me is the real achievement. Sure, the first game took a last minute equaliser to win the point after hardly threatening all match, the second took an offside goal and a backs-to-the-wall defensive performance to obtain the draw, while the third point was won against a team happy to play out a stalemate who were never really stretched. But all that masks the fact that the All-Whites are, as a team, footballing nobodies. They are footballing nobodies who were expected to be whipping boys. That they ended up being only one goal away from making the second round and finished above Italy in their group is a cause for celebration in itself. Celebrate your underdogs, New Zealand. You should be proud of them.