In praise of Argentina

By Marcela Mora y Araujo in Guardian, London
And on the sixteenth day of the sixth month of the sixth year - they scored six.
I've seen the whole game three times now. I've never seen anything like it.
As my friend Klaus wrote: "This surpasses the 6-0 against Peru, and the 4-1 against Hungary in '82 when Maradona and Kempes joined forces, AND the 4-0 against Greece in '94, to name but a few of our World Cup goalfests."
I've got that sense of watching something unfold in the knowledge that it is already becominga memory - one of those "where were you when ..." moments. It's as if the earth had started spinning in a different direction. Like any great work of art, the excellence is in the details. Crespo's delicate back heel pass to Cambiasso for the second goal. Carlos Tévez' Maradonic finish to the fourth (there was adouble nutmeg there: the ball goes through the opponent's legs, and the opponent goes through Tévez' legs).
Messi passing to Crespo - Crespo scores. He looks for Messi and points to him: "It was you: you gave me that." They hug. The sixthgoal, Crespo to Messi, Messi scores. He looks for Crespo. Points his finger at him: "It was you: you gave me that". They hug again.
Crespo kisses Messi. Two generations help other, play with each other ...
It was Menotti and Bilardo, it was individual talent in a team framework. It was Tévez coming on as a yang to Saviola's yin, and Cambiasso starting on the bench so they would all know that the bench is part of the team too.
It was touch, touch, touch - caress, control,seek possession, remain in possession, if you can't keep the ball pass it to a team-mate. Look around, you've got so many on your side.
José Pekerman is without a doubt a genius from another planet. The players were the artists embroidering the canvas but as I'm sure any experienced crochet knitter would confirm, such a weave does not come by accident.
The mind-boggling thing is that Pekerman designed it. But I would like to also pay a little personal homage to the central cog of that majestic machine: Juan Román Riquelme.
I tried to count how many of the 24 passes that led to Cambiasso's goal involved him. I couldn't, but it was several. Riquelme was the axis, constant and steady like the beat of Tula's drum, calmly setting the pace, playing like only he can.
And what's very interesting about Riquelme is that while some people love him he is not everybody's cup of tea. A few years ago my cousin went to a Barcelona game and reported back the following dialogue with another man watching the same game:
MAN: Riquelme's shit. Every time he gets the ball he hogs it for at least five minutes.
COUSIN: Riquelme's great! Every time he gets the ball he keeps possession for at least five minutes.
In the fast-paced, long-ball competitive pitches of European professional football what Riquelme does is counterintuitive. But in the open spaces of Don Torcuato, where he still plays regularly whenever he's back home, that's the point of playing.
Riquelme doesn't lose much sleep over any of this. For him football is the same alwaysand everywhere. He plays the way he plays and if you don't like it, that's not his problem. He's loyal to his neighbourhood friends, the Boca strip and the ball.
He's genuine, unpretentious and truly gifted. And it is to Pekerman's credit that he has understood him and his timing, and is able to make the most of the monumental contribution Riquelme is capable of making to any team.
When he was not included in the final squad for 2002 I asked Pekerman why this was.He shook his head gently and said something about the boy having too many problems. I couldn't believe that Pekerman, a man whose technical staff include nutritionists, psychologists and social workers, wouldn't find a way round this.
But then, earlier this year, Riquelme told me the same thing more clearly: "I'm a realist. My mind wasn't on the game at the time. I was hardly playing for Boca. I wasn't up to the World Cup. I had too many problems."
I feel I'm beginning to understand Pekerman's sense of timing. He is able to sketch a plan over time - not over the course of a single tournament even but over several generations. I think he famously once left Aimar on the bench during a Youth World Cup final, just to teach him that sometimes you have to sit it out. Can you imagine how much richer Aimar will be for this if he starts in the 2006 World Cup Final?
But I'm getting ahead of myself here. We have had a wonderful moment added to our football history and that can never be taken away. But after yesterday's homage to Menotti's philosophy a little Bilardista caution is in order.
There is another game to focus on now, and the most dangerous thing at this stage would be to believe in the unbeatability of the team. Gordon Strachan made a point which could well be true: "That's the last time in this tournament they're going to get the chance to do that. Nobody's going to give them the space again."
In a sense, that doesn't matter. I feel privileged enough that the masterpiece was constructed at all, in my lifetime. It's happened now, it exists.
We can all get back to the World Cup.