PORT ELIZABETH: If this was the game Johan Cruyff would not pay to go and watch, he has a bleak future on Wall Street. Little Wesley Sneijder, the shortest man on the field, soared over Brazil's tall, hulking defenders to turn an encounter that seemed to be headed Brazil's way into that classic we had all put our money on.
In a second half that was whizzing past like a blur, two goals within a quarter of an hour by the intelligent, peppy Dutch No. 10 derailed the Brazilian freight-train that had threatened to mow down everything in its path at the World Cup here. The Brazilians are now headed home, while coach Dunga, who controversially substituted beauty for efficiency and snubbed Ronaldinho, has almost certainly reached the end of his tenure. Asked about his future, he tersely told reporters, "We knew when I started that I would be here for four years."
Dunga had taken over after Brazil crashed out in the quarterfinals of the 2006 World Cup, and surely expected to improve on that showing here. But Sneijder had other plans. Fifty minutes into the game, a goal down and the Brazilians all over the Dutchmen, the Inter Milan playmaker showed great intuition - schooled no doubt from the Milan club training sessions - when he floated a harmless ball long into a crowded Brazilian area.
It was not the Jabulani that wobbled in the air this time, it was Brazil's cocky-looking Julio Cesar, the least busy man in all of the southern hemisphere these past three weeks. Sneijder's club colleague panicked, came off his line early and was blinded by an equally enthusiastic Felipe Melo, who came in his path, and the ball nestled into the net. One-all. Game on! The Dutch had seized the initiative, and never gave it back.
A quarter of an hour after he had provided Sneijder with the opportunity, Arjen Robben again emerged from under the skin of the Brazilians for a brief instant. His record-high irritability index intact, this time he saw his corner flicked on by the head of the tireless, but that most un-Oranje of Dutchmen, Dirk Kuyt. The ball flew past the raised heads of Juan, Lucio and Maicon, who were so tutored in the game of the plain pattern that they marked Van Bommel and Andre Ooijer, the tall Dutchmen, and forgot to mark this little ferret running around their legs. A neat header in and suddenly, it was such an uphill battle for Dunga's Brazilians.
Had he prepared his team for such a situation in which they were down and fighting their way up, the Brazilian coach was asked later. "We never prepare our teams to lose," was his terse reply. But the truth was that in going forward all the time, it is possible that Dunga's Brazil did not know how to come back. And football at the highest level demands that of you. Their famed composure suddenly looked so fragile when Sneijder led the assault upon Mt Brazil here. Their misery was compounded when, with 10 minutes to go, Felipe Melo, him of the wafer-thin temperament, stomped on Robben's leg after the ball had passed them by.
Did Robben ask for it? His endless needling of the Brazilians was going to reach flashpoint, but like guile in football does to you, it was Brazil that fell for it. "Go and see what Felipe Melo has done to Robben's leg," the Netherlands' normally unflappable coach Bert Van Marwijk told a journalist later. "Brazil should be ashamed of it," he added. How different the story was only 45 minutes ago. Van Marwijk himself admitted that a mere 1-0 at the culmination of a 45-minute Brazilian onslaught gave them hope. Else, the story could have been so different.
Brazil, in their away Blue, donned also the attacking idea of their famed rivals, surprising many. Outraged at this impostor-act, the Orange-men led by Sneijder set about teaching the South Americans a lesson and wrested the game away from them. In this see-saw battle, Robin van Persie and Robben were profligate, an extravagance the Brazilians would certainly punish.
They did, though a goal was a result of a strange Dutch disjointedness, and a defensive error by John Heitinga who stopped chasing Robinho when he watched Robben was on his heels. When his ball tore through the Dutch fabric and found Robinho, it was the last contribution by Melo in the clash. The Dutch reply was credited to him and then came the card against Robben.
But, it could have been so different.
Kaka showed he had the muscle and the stomach for a fight, when he fought off the advances off Nigel De Jong and Mark van Bommel. Once he had the lumbering Dutchmen out of the way, he grew in strength, taking control of the midfield and the onus of creativity from Sneijder, his opposite No 10, to put up a show of their vintage game. Just before the break, Dani Alves almost did a Pele from 1970 when he set up the locomotive-like Maicon without looking up. The thunderous shot by the Brazilian right back was narrowly out.
But it was the flying save by Maarten Stekelenburg half an hour in the game to a Kaka lob that was to prove the turning point as far as the Dutch were concerned.
TOI
In a second half that was whizzing past like a blur, two goals within a quarter of an hour by the intelligent, peppy Dutch No. 10 derailed the Brazilian freight-train that had threatened to mow down everything in its path at the World Cup here. The Brazilians are now headed home, while coach Dunga, who controversially substituted beauty for efficiency and snubbed Ronaldinho, has almost certainly reached the end of his tenure. Asked about his future, he tersely told reporters, "We knew when I started that I would be here for four years."
Dunga had taken over after Brazil crashed out in the quarterfinals of the 2006 World Cup, and surely expected to improve on that showing here. But Sneijder had other plans. Fifty minutes into the game, a goal down and the Brazilians all over the Dutchmen, the Inter Milan playmaker showed great intuition - schooled no doubt from the Milan club training sessions - when he floated a harmless ball long into a crowded Brazilian area.
It was not the Jabulani that wobbled in the air this time, it was Brazil's cocky-looking Julio Cesar, the least busy man in all of the southern hemisphere these past three weeks. Sneijder's club colleague panicked, came off his line early and was blinded by an equally enthusiastic Felipe Melo, who came in his path, and the ball nestled into the net. One-all. Game on! The Dutch had seized the initiative, and never gave it back.
A quarter of an hour after he had provided Sneijder with the opportunity, Arjen Robben again emerged from under the skin of the Brazilians for a brief instant. His record-high irritability index intact, this time he saw his corner flicked on by the head of the tireless, but that most un-Oranje of Dutchmen, Dirk Kuyt. The ball flew past the raised heads of Juan, Lucio and Maicon, who were so tutored in the game of the plain pattern that they marked Van Bommel and Andre Ooijer, the tall Dutchmen, and forgot to mark this little ferret running around their legs. A neat header in and suddenly, it was such an uphill battle for Dunga's Brazilians.
Had he prepared his team for such a situation in which they were down and fighting their way up, the Brazilian coach was asked later. "We never prepare our teams to lose," was his terse reply. But the truth was that in going forward all the time, it is possible that Dunga's Brazil did not know how to come back. And football at the highest level demands that of you. Their famed composure suddenly looked so fragile when Sneijder led the assault upon Mt Brazil here. Their misery was compounded when, with 10 minutes to go, Felipe Melo, him of the wafer-thin temperament, stomped on Robben's leg after the ball had passed them by.
Did Robben ask for it? His endless needling of the Brazilians was going to reach flashpoint, but like guile in football does to you, it was Brazil that fell for it. "Go and see what Felipe Melo has done to Robben's leg," the Netherlands' normally unflappable coach Bert Van Marwijk told a journalist later. "Brazil should be ashamed of it," he added. How different the story was only 45 minutes ago. Van Marwijk himself admitted that a mere 1-0 at the culmination of a 45-minute Brazilian onslaught gave them hope. Else, the story could have been so different.
Brazil, in their away Blue, donned also the attacking idea of their famed rivals, surprising many. Outraged at this impostor-act, the Orange-men led by Sneijder set about teaching the South Americans a lesson and wrested the game away from them. In this see-saw battle, Robin van Persie and Robben were profligate, an extravagance the Brazilians would certainly punish.
They did, though a goal was a result of a strange Dutch disjointedness, and a defensive error by John Heitinga who stopped chasing Robinho when he watched Robben was on his heels. When his ball tore through the Dutch fabric and found Robinho, it was the last contribution by Melo in the clash. The Dutch reply was credited to him and then came the card against Robben.
But, it could have been so different.
Kaka showed he had the muscle and the stomach for a fight, when he fought off the advances off Nigel De Jong and Mark van Bommel. Once he had the lumbering Dutchmen out of the way, he grew in strength, taking control of the midfield and the onus of creativity from Sneijder, his opposite No 10, to put up a show of their vintage game. Just before the break, Dani Alves almost did a Pele from 1970 when he set up the locomotive-like Maicon without looking up. The thunderous shot by the Brazilian right back was narrowly out.
But it was the flying save by Maarten Stekelenburg half an hour in the game to a Kaka lob that was to prove the turning point as far as the Dutch were concerned.
TOI
