“Bad” and “good” guys
Bots must have read my previous entry and decided that I would approve of this Substack post: it has come up a few times in my feed (in Spanish, more often than not). The post is by one Éamann Mac Donnchada, “an Irishman resident in Barcelona, deeply marked by his years in Argentina.”
Indeed, I found it moving.
(See also this post, written before the final.)
Mac Donnchada offers a nice counterpoint to what I have been reading and viewing elsewhere. For example, the Guardian – don’t think it doesn’t have an axe to grind! – would have us believe that Argentinians are morally undeserving, as indicated by the fact that some U.S. Blacks and some non-Argentinian Latin Americans prefer not to cheer for Argentina.
(The article focusing on Latin America begins, amusingly, with a Brazilian – a member of the nation that is Argentina’s chief sporting rival – saying, I *would* cheer for Argentina, *but* … )
Of course, I can’t speak for – or to – everyone belonging to these groups. But the obvious rejoinder to the argument is: Look closely at Spain. Look closely at Europe. Look at their histories and their present attitudes (which often are cosmeticized, as Mac Donnchada notes). Are the Argentinians really so much worse?
As Mac Donnchada remarks:
Which isn’t to say that Argentinians aren’t themselves prejudiced. But it does shed light on the team’s conduct. When the Argentinian players turned their backs upon Spain’s post-game celebration, it may not have been entirely a matter of bad sportsmanship. It may also have been a refusal to applaud a country where Argentinians suffer prejudice.
(Argentinians often are bad losers; I’ve seen Ecuador beat them enough times to know that. 😆 Even so, I’ve noticed that Argentinians tend, after the obligatory period of fisticuffs and grousing, to bestow grudging respect.)
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Politics aside, the more I think about the final, the less convinced I am that the Spanish dominated the Argentinians as comprehensively as it seemed at the time. The stats – possession, passing, shooting, etc. – would suggest that the Spanish were much better; but how were those figures achieved? As Hannah Frye explains, in tennis, the scoring system allows a player who returns serves just a little better than his rival to achieve a vastly superior tally of games, sets, and matches. Soccer is thought to exhibit the opposite tendency – goals are not such predictable amplifications of modest superiority – but, as any devoted viewer understands, to focus on goals is misleading. The Spanish were able to look vastly superior, and to record better numbers, by repeatedly exploiting a single weakness that the Argentinians were aware of but almost powerless to correct. The Spanish understood that the Argentinians were too old and tired to effectively press Spain’s back line. (This was evident as early as Argentina’s match against Cape Verde.) This allowed the Spanish to constantly advance their teenaged central defender, Cubarsí, into the midfield; and the resulting numerical advantage in that sector allowed them to control possession. Yes, the Spanish are good at passing and recovering; but are they so, so much better than these same Argentinians who’d bossed the French? The answer is: Yes, with greater youth and with an extra player in the midfield (not to mention an extra day’s rest). That’s all we really know. The Argentinians, of course, knew that they were being made to look inept. And they knew why they were being outplayed in the middle. They responded accordingly. Fernández, at times, would press quite high – not to generate turnovers but to persuade Cubarsí to retreat. It was desperate but necessary, and it resulted in Fernández’s expulsion. It was entirely a more proactive gambit than, e.g., England’s wholesale retreat into the penalty box.
Hannah Frye says: “The resilience to losing that you have to have [in tennis] is, I think, unlike any other.”
But much the same could be said about Argentina in the final. That team showed more resilience than any other I can think of, despite the amplification, all over the field, of Spain’s predictable advantage in bringing the ball out against Argentina’s press. The Argentinians were so resilient, they almost won. Spain, for all the “dominance,” almost didn’t. This was no 2009 Champions League final, a low-scoring affair with an outcome nonetheless settled early; this was a live contest. In the end, the Spanish never did pass all the way through Argentina: they hoofed a ball into the box, where a couple of fresh substitutes got to it first. (And yes, the earlier goal’s disallowal was correct.)
There was, then, a certain reactiveness to Spain’s game, a certain fundamental preoccupation with the opponent rather than with proactive excellence; and, I daresay, a certain smugness. I’m reminded of a story of my Uncle John’s. The classical guitarist, Andrés Segovia, once listened to an earnest amateur’s performance. He then took the guitar and played it back, cruelly replicating each mistake. What is an opponent to do in the face of a virtuoso’s calculated meanness? I don’t say that Spain played as cruelly as Segovia. But it was a one-trick, reactive performance. Spain could have tried different things but didn’t until the end. Then the ball simply was hoofed. Argentina tried more things. (It’s a mistake to claim the opposite.) None worked. That’s all.
Let me end with a quotation from a different Spanish youngster: Gavi, who took a few knocks after the final whistle.
Indeed, I found it moving.
(See also this post, written before the final.)
Mac Donnchada offers a nice counterpoint to what I have been reading and viewing elsewhere. For example, the Guardian – don’t think it doesn’t have an axe to grind! – would have us believe that Argentinians are morally undeserving, as indicated by the fact that some U.S. Blacks and some non-Argentinian Latin Americans prefer not to cheer for Argentina.
(The article focusing on Latin America begins, amusingly, with a Brazilian – a member of the nation that is Argentina’s chief sporting rival – saying, I *would* cheer for Argentina, *but* … )
Of course, I can’t speak for – or to – everyone belonging to these groups. But the obvious rejoinder to the argument is: Look closely at Spain. Look closely at Europe. Look at their histories and their present attitudes (which often are cosmeticized, as Mac Donnchada notes). Are the Argentinians really so much worse?
As Mac Donnchada remarks:
Football has acted as a socially acceptable pretext for saying things that would have been unacceptable in any other context. National sporting rivalry has licensed people to express prejudices that normally remain hidden behind progressive language.To wit, prejudices against Argentinians.
Which isn’t to say that Argentinians aren’t themselves prejudiced. But it does shed light on the team’s conduct. When the Argentinian players turned their backs upon Spain’s post-game celebration, it may not have been entirely a matter of bad sportsmanship. It may also have been a refusal to applaud a country where Argentinians suffer prejudice.
(Argentinians often are bad losers; I’ve seen Ecuador beat them enough times to know that. 😆 Even so, I’ve noticed that Argentinians tend, after the obligatory period of fisticuffs and grousing, to bestow grudging respect.)
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Politics aside, the more I think about the final, the less convinced I am that the Spanish dominated the Argentinians as comprehensively as it seemed at the time. The stats – possession, passing, shooting, etc. – would suggest that the Spanish were much better; but how were those figures achieved? As Hannah Frye explains, in tennis, the scoring system allows a player who returns serves just a little better than his rival to achieve a vastly superior tally of games, sets, and matches. Soccer is thought to exhibit the opposite tendency – goals are not such predictable amplifications of modest superiority – but, as any devoted viewer understands, to focus on goals is misleading. The Spanish were able to look vastly superior, and to record better numbers, by repeatedly exploiting a single weakness that the Argentinians were aware of but almost powerless to correct. The Spanish understood that the Argentinians were too old and tired to effectively press Spain’s back line. (This was evident as early as Argentina’s match against Cape Verde.) This allowed the Spanish to constantly advance their teenaged central defender, Cubarsí, into the midfield; and the resulting numerical advantage in that sector allowed them to control possession. Yes, the Spanish are good at passing and recovering; but are they so, so much better than these same Argentinians who’d bossed the French? The answer is: Yes, with greater youth and with an extra player in the midfield (not to mention an extra day’s rest). That’s all we really know. The Argentinians, of course, knew that they were being made to look inept. And they knew why they were being outplayed in the middle. They responded accordingly. Fernández, at times, would press quite high – not to generate turnovers but to persuade Cubarsí to retreat. It was desperate but necessary, and it resulted in Fernández’s expulsion. It was entirely a more proactive gambit than, e.g., England’s wholesale retreat into the penalty box.
Hannah Frye says: “The resilience to losing that you have to have [in tennis] is, I think, unlike any other.”
But much the same could be said about Argentina in the final. That team showed more resilience than any other I can think of, despite the amplification, all over the field, of Spain’s predictable advantage in bringing the ball out against Argentina’s press. The Argentinians were so resilient, they almost won. Spain, for all the “dominance,” almost didn’t. This was no 2009 Champions League final, a low-scoring affair with an outcome nonetheless settled early; this was a live contest. In the end, the Spanish never did pass all the way through Argentina: they hoofed a ball into the box, where a couple of fresh substitutes got to it first. (And yes, the earlier goal’s disallowal was correct.)
There was, then, a certain reactiveness to Spain’s game, a certain fundamental preoccupation with the opponent rather than with proactive excellence; and, I daresay, a certain smugness. I’m reminded of a story of my Uncle John’s. The classical guitarist, Andrés Segovia, once listened to an earnest amateur’s performance. He then took the guitar and played it back, cruelly replicating each mistake. What is an opponent to do in the face of a virtuoso’s calculated meanness? I don’t say that Spain played as cruelly as Segovia. But it was a one-trick, reactive performance. Spain could have tried different things but didn’t until the end. Then the ball simply was hoofed. Argentina tried more things. (It’s a mistake to claim the opposite.) None worked. That’s all.
Let me end with a quotation from a different Spanish youngster: Gavi, who took a few knocks after the final whistle.
No, to be honest, I don’t think [the Argentinians] should be suspended. I realize it doesn’t set a good example for the children, but there’s also that side to football that’s a bit more violent.He’s magnanimous because he’s young, the pundits say. Perhaps. Or perhaps Gavi is wise enough to put himself in the other’s place. Or perhaps he’s not especially proud of how Spain approached the game. That’s not to say he should be ashamed. You play the way you know; you try to win the way you can.