BEAUTY SURVIVES---SPAIN ARE THROUGH TO THE FINAL!!!

First, the facts.Spain, on the 7th of June, 2010, outsmarted Germany in a ridiculously lopsided 1-0 win to book a place in the final of the first African World Cup. The only goal of the match came from the head of Catalan central defender Carlos Puyol from a viciously curling corner kick delivered by Xavi.Spanish possession was more than 60%.
But statistics do not even BEGIN to tell the story. It was a victory not just for the classy Spaniards, but for every single lover of La Jogo Bonito(The Beautiful Game)...We witnessed not just a game of football-----not merely that!---but an orchestra on the grandest possible scale: sensuous touches, exquisite through-balls and intricate passing...Spain versus Germany felt like watching a peacock dancing amidst lashing rain, with that one flash of lightning(Puyol’s goal) and some rolls of thunder(other shots on/off target) momentarily taking our entranced eyes off its dazzlingly colourful feathers. A slow, deliberate dance of courtship mesmerised one and all.Aaah, if only it didn’t have to stop!
In a Hindustani classical music piece (a Raaga), the song is a minor part of the performance. The real beauty lies in the aalap and the taan, where the singer explores the musical ‘mood’ of the entire composition. Ditto for this match. The goal was but an aberration, the passes were a passionate search for footballing nirvana, the game was an end in itself...If football is a celebration of life, here it was proved. And I was there; I saw it happen, LIVE!
But then, it could all have been so different. Time and time again we have seen Jose Mourinhos and Italys getting the better of the Barcelonas and the Argentinas of our game, the latter teams’ enthralling passing routines and inventive genius falling to tactical supremacy and lifeless discipline.Elsewhere, the industrious Nadal has had the measure of poetry-in-motion Federer...More often than not. Schumacher’s swansong was wrecked by a car crash in Japan. Tiger Woods, he of the almost-vertical shots, was beaten to it by personal life. Artistry in sport was dying a slow death, painful to all but inevitable, irreversible.The writing on the wall was clear: superb Spain would never go past the quarterfinals of a World Cup. And then, it all changed. Good old Carlos had other things in mind....White-shirted Germany was knocked out by the players donning red-and-yellow. The Rainbow Nation saw colour and beauty prevail, despite all odds (Well, an octopus predicted this too lolz!). Death to counter-attacking football, a victory of technique and flair over unimaginative catenaccio.Finally!!!
It feels like a personal vindication. Hurrah!
P.S. Spain might yet lose. The Oraanje might prove to be better than the Germans. But for now, this will do (in addition to Villa’s sublime goals, of course).