Iniestazo… azo… AZO! Or, as Jose Antonio Camacho, former Madridista and Spain left back exclaimed: “Iniesta de my vida”. I couldn’t have said it better myself. I won’t say the World Cup final degenerated into an awful spectacle of fouling and anti-football, because in order to have degenerated into that, it would have had to have started out better. Regardless, La Furia Roja took home their first Jules Rimet trophy, and were the more worthy team in having done so. Please join me won’t you, for one final review before we move back into the realm of the club. Once more into the breach.

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AP Photo/Luca Bruno

Felicidades, Furia Roja, you have won the World Cup for the first time and done it after an excellent tournament.

Today in the Sunday Times of Johannesburg there’s an advertisement displaying the beautiful South African flag taking up the whole page. Over it is written, “Today This is the Greatest Country in the World.” South Africa has done a remarkable job of hosting the Cup. The games have been organized and run with almost flawless execution and the people of the country have been extraordinarily open and gracious. Hosting the Cup has meant a great deal to South Africans both because it has brought them center stage in the world and because there a great deal of love for football here in this country. Hours away from the game the atmosphere in Johannesburg is electric. Some thoughts on what the atmosphere for the finals may be like and some pictures below.

Spanish National Team Making It's Way Through Johannesburg

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Ostensibly I should not have to write a preview of the World Cup final. You all read this site almost daily and have chosen a side for the final for better or worse, whether you are an old hat Dutchman, a lovely Spaniard, or just a fan of one of the teams. So instead of going through the inner workings of these two teams and telling you about how the Netherlands no longer play “Total Football” (nor could they or any other team in this day and age since the Germans figured out how to pick that lock about 35 years ago) or that La Furia Roja aren’t “Barça Lite”, they are FC Barcelona with 3 or 4 transplants. I will go through some of the myriad thoughts I have on the game and its players and you guys can knock it around in the comments as well.

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[The following text was washed up on an oil slick off the Florida Keys. It has no known authorship except for an ‘Earnest H.’ scribbled in a margin. It is unknown if ‘Earnest’ is a given name or a simple adjective. Regardless of whether or not his parents could spell, the text bears a striking resemblance to current events and is published here unedited for reader interest. – Ed.]

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The semifinals of the World Cup are a rare and strange mix of art, circumstance, and tense interaction formed around the 4 teams lucky enough to be involved. Thankfully, this version saw two very exciting games, although they were exciting for very different reasons. The comparisons in style of play alone were staggering enough with neo-Total Football (which should more accurately be called a shell of its former self, having its spirit moved down to Barcelona and its corpse left rotting in a ditch behind Cruyff’s house — i.e., they have become boring and predictable, but football monikers hang around for a long time) facing off against Uruguay relying almost totally on Diego Forlan and cutting runs with little ability to adequately possess and the “youthful exuberance” of the “new” Germany opposing tiki-taka, Barca lite Spain. Two past champions attempting to regain the form of years gone by opposing the two best sides to have never won the Cup. It doesn’t get much better.

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The scoreboard read Barça Spain 1 – 0 Germany and I yelled, clapped, high-fived my friends, and hugged them. We cheered, paid our bill, and spilled out into the street. Or, well, walked out into the heat wave we’re experiencing and couldn’t muster the energy to cheer anymore. It’s an oven here. Regardless, I went home buzzed on happiness and a few Cokes and am already looking forward to Sunday’s final.

What are your plans for the final? What will you do if Spain wins? A friend of mine swore he’d go run with the bulls at next year’s San Fermin festival. Another told me not to jinx them. Another said a string of curse words and probably should lay off the beer during matches sometimes. I’m just going to cheer and scream and whoop and holler and then maybe I’l think of something awesome.

Apologies for such lax posting, but it was the 4th of July weekend here in the States and despite the heat wave we’ve got going on here at the moment I’ve spent as much time outside as possible. Not that there was anything to see. Fortunately, the holiday is over and now I get to sit inside and write about Barça instead of having friends and hanging out in the park. Yay.

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It is hard for me to continually write intros for these things. But this round of games, wow. It is rare that games incorporate excitement; open discussions of the ethics of punishment, utilitarianism, and the greater good; and brutal emotions usually not laid bare by such matters. So here we are, 4 teams left, every one of them gets 2 more games, although 1 of those games might be less important than the others. So come on in, and enjoy it, won’t you?

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Now that the rounds have concluded, Argentina and Brazil are history and Spain has made history, but it’s a holiday weekend here in the States and we’re too busy burning our fingers on grills and sparklers to type and too buzzed on warm beer to care … So it’s time for some Trivia!

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