Everyday I love you more, Argentina

By Marcela Mora y Araujo July 3, 2006
In the German film Run, Lola, Run there's a scene before the title sequence in which an odd-looking referee throwsthe ball up in the air. The camera focuses on the ball as it spins in the air, and a narrator says something along the lines of "The ball is round. The game lasts 90 minutes. That's fact. Everything else is theory."
I ended up watching Friday's game with two Argentinian women I'd never met before in the middle of the terraces, surrounded by German men. They spent most of the 120 minutes of play chanting "Deutschland" to the tune of two hand claps, and then stretching their left arms out towards the pitch. At the very least 60,000 people were doing likewise in the stadium.
There was no animosity towards the three of us, struggling to accompany the faint melody of the Argentinian cluster who sang "Ole, ole, ola, every day I love you more" to the team. The German supporters occasionally looked at us with a faint grin.
For most of the match we were 1-0 up so it wasn't hard to grin back. The booing and whistling during the penalty shootout wiped the smiles off our faces. In the distance, up high behind one of the goals, a small battle had broken out between a smallish group of Argentinian fans who wanted to be allowed to move closer to the larger contingent.
I understand the German police were quick to avert any serious trouble. Good.Violence, whatever motivates it, is always wrong.
Loss is a terrible feeling t odeal with but gang warfare is unlikely to repair the hurt. The battle among the players after the match was horrendous and undignified, regardless of whostarted it or who provoked it. I hope it is not the only lasting memory we have of the evening.
At least the game was relatively fairly played. No doubt we will debate forever who deserved to win, but the fact is that Germany did win, and the Argentinian players gave their all and tried their best. Nothing dishonourable about that. It all went wrong in the end but, hey, that'sfootball.
The following day, Julio Grondona, the head of the Argentinian Football Association, recalled the footballing great Alfredo Di Stéfano, who liked to say that when a player squeezes his shirt after a match, blood should drip from it. Grondona felt satisfied that this lot could hold their heads high.
Like most Argentinians, and maybe most people who watched the match around the world, Grondona did allow himself a little rant at the one question he said he could not begin to answer: "Why the hell didn't Messi come on?" Young Messi, who has a long football life ahead of him, looked sullen on the bench, barely watching the game, and defiantly confident as he was captured by photographers leaving the "concentración" in Nuremberg.
I spoke to his father, who echoed the global disappointment but begged me not to quote him. I won't.
Argentinian journalists are now dismantling their German based operations. Most will go home, some will holiday in Europe, a few will stay and report the semis and the final. English journalists are probably doing the same. And Brazilians. This is always a strange stage of the competition.
The hype and the adrenalin rush in fans and hacks alike has been escalating at great speed and now there are only four teams left it's hard to wind down gracefully. Everyone is writing obituaries - perhaps in styles that reflect national traits. Argentina's headlines are melancholic and sentimental: "We died standing" and "When the pain filled with tears".
The English papers are more punitive, pointing the finger at various possible culprits: the Argentinian ref, the Swedish coach, and Wayne Rooney for example. Yet the men of football play on. All over Germany in the lobbies of five-star hotels deals will be toyed with.
Like pieces on a chessboard players will be sold, bought, touted and loaned. Already agents are promising the arrival in the Premiership of Carlos Tévez while a source at MCI, the group that owns his current club Corinthians, says they are not letting him go. "We've had an offer of 100 million," says my man "but it's not just the money, you know. We need to win something and the issue if we sell Tévez is who replaces him".
Managers will resign or be sacked. New names will appear, rumours will circulate. If Argentina's coach José Pekerman leaves for example -and his comment at the press conference immediately after the game was in no way a formal resignation; I think Grondona will try to keep him - who will step in?
There is a rumour that Maradona will be next. Diego, whose only loyalty is to the ball, missed Friday's game. He tried every gate of the stadium, accompanied by his customary entourage, one of whom had apparently had his accreditation removed for excessive swearing and shouting during a previous match. VIP or nay,there is a code of conduct. Diego didn't defeat the electronic tags, the guarded gates, or the Fifa protocol.
Perhaps that's why Argentina lost. It's not inconceivable - just because it's superstitious doesn't mean it's not true. Perhaps it was the unfulfilled promise to the virgin in Tilcara. This dream is over, but it's not the end of all dreams forever.
Far from it. The ball isround, and will keep rolling, thank God, indefinitely and forever. There will always be another match.