World Cup 2010 : Serbia

Politics overshadow Socceroos win

Mike Tuckerman — Thu, 24 Jun 2010 10:20:00 GMT

Only in Australia could a bout of political maneuvering upstage one of our proudest football triumphs.

On the eve of the Socceroos’ vital Group D decider against Serbia, Australia’s ruling Labor party dropped the bombshell that deputy Julia Gillard was set to challenge embattled Prime Minister Kevin Rudd for leadership of the nation.

If and when the news filtered through to the Socceroos camp, the players must have sat back and laughed – after all, Australia’s national football team have always had to play second fiddle one way or another.

In the end, an historic first ever win over a European nation at the World Cup finals was not enough to see Australia progress to the Round of 16, with the Socceroos knocked out on goal difference despite outscoring both Ghana and Serbia in the group stage.

The 1-1 draw against Ghana in Rustenburg didn’t help – Harry Kewell’s harsh but technically correct sending off by referee Roberto Rosetti renewed Australia’s love affair with all things Italian – but it was the disastrous 4-0 defeat to Germany in Durban that proved the deciding factor.

With the group decided on goal difference, the Socceroos just couldn’t make up the four goals conceded to the Germans in what was undoubtedly their worst international performance in years.

That shouldn’t take away from a typically gutsy win against the dangerous Serbs in Nelspruit, during which the Socceroos rode their luck as Milos Krasic and Milan Jovanovic pounded the Australian defence in a one-sided first half, only for the team in yellow to turn the tables with a dominant second half display.

Tim Cahill returned from suspension to lead the Socceroos midfield with another all-action performance, and as so often it was the Everton midfielder who broke the deadlock with a trademark towering header with just over twenty minutes remaining.

Yet it was the introduction of much-maligned midfielder Brett Holman that made all the difference, as the player who scored the goal against Ghana made it two from two with an accurate strike from distance just four minutes after Cahill’s opener.

The goals saw Pim Verbeek urge his team forward in a desperate search for more, but in the end it was Ajax striker Marko Pantelic who obliged, coming on as a late substitute and beating the unlucky Schwarzer from close range after the Fulham goalkeeper had spilled a swerving effort from another substitute in Zoran Tosic.

So it was that the Socceroos were left to rue their fortunes, as they were knocked out by a Ghana side who scored both of their goals from the penalty spot to advance as group runners-up.

The Australian public thus bid farewell to two unpopular leaders within hours of each other, although the end of Pim Verbeek’s reign as Socceroos coach won’t have been greeted by too many sighs of disappointment.

On the same morning that ousted former Prime Minister Kevin Rudd was wondering just where it all went wrong, Socceroos fans and media alike left no doubt that they lay the blame for Australia’s first-round exit squarely at the feet of Verbeek.

The Dutch tactician was roundly criticised for his overly conservative tactics against Germany, and ultimately the two second-half goals conceded following Cahill’s dismissal in that match proved costly.

A campaign that began with blind optimism almost ended in blind fury for the Socceroos faithful, however there’s a begrudging acknowledgement that Verbeek did the best he could with the limited stocks at his disposal, and that Australia must improve technically if it is to make the transition to a genuine world class team.

The coming days will herald the full inquest into what needs to be done in future, and the search now begins in earnest for Verbeek’s successor.

On a long morning for politicians and sports fans alike, it was once again a case of “so near, yet so far” for the Socceroos – a refrain no doubt being uttered by at least one former Prime Minister right now.

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Silly Serbs and sobbing Slovaks

Jarek Zaba — Fri, 18 Jun 2010 08:00:00 GMT

It is now day eight and country four of my World Cup adventure, and boy has it flown by.

So far I have witnessed how the World Cup is being ‘enjoyed’ in Greece, Serbia and Slovakia - two losses and one last minute equaliser conceded - and what I have witnessed has been varied and surprising.

Talk of a curse is ever growing, and the Slovenians must surely fear my presence for their match against USA on Friday. Nonetheless, I remain confident that one of these teams will get it right when I’m there - though I will reluctantly accept that I am as cursed as they come if Italy somehow lose to the All Whites on Sunday.

In Belgrade – the second destination on my whistle-stop tour of the continent - I met with my impeccable host Snezana who took me to the river island location of Ada Ciganlija (Gypsy Island), a delightful collection of bars, food stalls and sports facilities creating something of a beach-like feel some 370km away from any coastline.

The atmosphere most definitely surpassed that of Thessaloniki, as those around eagerly dried themselves off from their dip in the river to take their seat before some of the many outdoor screens broadcasting the match.

I detected the place was genuinely ready to explode with joy the second the ball hit the Ghanaian net. There wasn’t a hint of the supposed violent intimidation Serb football followers are often associated with, and the sending off and penalty decisions were largely greeted with disappointed tut-tutting rather than an angry volley of ref abuse. I got the sense the Serbs were used to this kind of showpiece collapse.

Serbia weren’t terrible, but it’s fair to say that they were most definitely silly. Although my prophecy of a Serb victory wasn’t to be, my inclination that they could screw themselves over somewhere down the line turned out to be spot on. From the wholly unsurprising, although perhaps slightly harsh, two yellow cards for Aleksandar Lukovic for petty challenges, to the drastically idiotic handball from Zdravko Kuzmanovic, this was a game Serbia could well have won if they had kept their discipline.

It would appear that whether they fall under the name of Yugoslavia, Serbia & Montenegro or just plain old Serbia, they will remain susceptible to the same shortcomings. Snezana, offered an insight as to why: “It is a national characteristic of Serbia to not acknowledge when we make mistakes,” she said. “So we just make them again.” Her point was seemingly proven by a media whom she says described the team’s performance as merely unlucky.

Kuzmanovic appeared initially to go against the grain, appealing for forgiveness from his team-mates as well he should. But then again, he also said it was an attempt to head the ball, which if true must surely raise a massive question mark over his heading technique.

Although it’s fair to say Serbia weren’t exactly coasting until that point, they did offer a mild threat and could easily have nicked it. Now, a result against Germany, trouncers of the Aussies, is essential and the Serbs I spoke with weren’t exactly confident.

The Serbs I spoke to were all women, mind, but don’t let that put you off - they certainly seemed to have a bit more in their football locker than the average girl down the pub who asks you which way England are shooting in the 65th minute.

They even didn’t disappoint when I asked if they knew of Savo Milosevic: he is apparently from Snezana’s area of origin,along with Nemanja Vidic and coach Radomir Antic, a man who relegated Manchester City and subsequently made David Pleat dance.

Despite defeat, there were encouraging signs and perhaps the last word on the Beli Orlovi (White Eagles) should be given to Snezana’s friend Marija, who seemed most positive of all about the performance: “Well I am proud of them,” she declared. “They were running for the whole time. That is an excellent thing.” True say.

And then there were the Slovaks. Those poor Slovaks. If you truly believe in the curse of the World Cup Traveller (the list of believers is no doubt growing), then you’ll consider yourself vindicated by the following footage.

Whipping out my camera in the 92nd minute, I pressed record for what I believed would be my first taste of celebratory footage. Instead, watching screen-in-screen in horror, I got this.

In an attempt to quell the disappoint, corporate associates of the ‘Fan Fest’ Coca Cola thought it appropriate to immediately follow the gut-wrenching goal with a right good knees up, featuring some of the most laboured dancing one has ever witnessed.

Ultimately though, as bad as I felt for the Slovakians, New Zealand’s late and frankly undeserved equaliser at least made for some good footage, and some classic ‘gutted fan’ shots – this one taken some 10 minutes after the game had actually finished.

There were other undeniable positives to take from the day as well: I actually witnessed the ‘home’ team scoring a goal and, in the form of the Kia Fan Fest outside a recently built shopping centre on the banks of the Danube, I found somewhere which truly had a real World Cup atmosphere, as the locals reveled in their first ever tournament appearance as an independent nation. As well as a whole host of frustrated angry people, I also found my first group of happy football fans on my travels, bumping into five jubilant Kiwis.

But it was two Slovakians in particular that I was incredibly disappointed for when the Kiwi goal hit.

Wandering around the fan park at the start of the second half, seeking semi-fluent English speakers, I was fortunate enough to come across Vlastimil Danicek - or Vlasto to his friends - and his patriotically decorated son, David.

The writing over his body, in case you can‘t decipher, are names of Slovakian players. Vlasto was well aware, as knowledgeable as he truly was about the game, that this game presented their biggest opportunity for three points, and he feared the threat of Paraguay and Italy.

He had nothing but praise for the side and their coach Vladimir Weiss for getting this far, stating that with Martin Skrtel at the back, Marek Hamsik in the middle, and Robert Vittek up front the team was at its strongest it had ever been since its split from the Czechs.

He had much praise for the English game as well, revealing that he had a bet on England to reach the semi finals and sharing his belief that they were one of the strongest teams at the tournament. It has truly surprised me how highly England seem to be regarded on the continent, and I’ll be honest - I’m not sharing their confidence yet.

Later on, I happened to come across a group of Portuguese during their match against the Ivory Coast. Their thoughts can be summarised in five words: players good; Queiroz no good.

And finally, here is a collation of the various Robert Green related piss takes from the nations of the world, all of which were uttered within around 60 seconds of meeting these people...

Miguel from Portugal
“You need to watch that goalkeeper of yours.”

Vlasto from Slovakia
“We can lend you a goalkeeper if you like. Yours nearly made me throw my betting slip away.”

New Zealander, after I told him I didn’t fancy playing them in the latter rounds
“I’m up for it. I hear the tactic is just to kick the ball straight at the goalkeeper.”

Cheers lads. I’m thankful that I didn’t end up speaking to the American - he probably would have advised that our goal defence roster is in a bad period right now, and coach Capello needs to give them a shake-up in the locker room. Or something.

PART ONE: Watching the Cup with the Europeans
PART TWO: Greeks philosophical rather than passionate

Watching the Cup with the Europeans

Jarek Zaba — Mon, 07 Jun 2010 11:49:00 GMT

It was just a few weeks ago that I felt we’d officially crossed the line into the ‘World Cup Zone’.

By this, I mean the period of the year in which if you don’t hear the words ‘World Cup’, or a variation thereof, over the course of a day, you either live an admirably sheltered life or you come from one of those weird countries where they pretend it’s not happening, like Scotland.

Admittedly, we entered into the ‘pre-game’ a long time ago. It feels like it was at least 18 months ago that Ian Wright and his fellow Cockney tabloid harbingers of doom were imparting on us sage wisdom along the lines of "If Rooney plays, we’ve got a chance for sure" and "If you don’t think England are gonna win it, what the hell you watching for?!"

For me, the first signs we were entering into 'WCZ' proper was when Pepsi decided to unleash the improbably rapid voice of Thierry Henry – 'canwegetzepepsimax?' – in the latest attempt to ensure that the Loads Of Footballers Playing Football In An Usual Environment genre of advertising remained.

This has become a cornerstone of any major tournament since the Brazil boys of ‘98 larked about in an airport, with ‘hilarious consequences’.

But the final confirmation that the relentless ultra-marketing of the game we love had hit full throttle was when Carlsberg rolled out its full minute and a half of stomach turning In-ger-land jingoism, complete with all your favourite sporting icons (and that bloke from Kasabian) and probably the best cliche-ridden ‘inspirational’ team talk in the world –Sir Bobby would undoubtedly be proud to see his image exploited for such a noble cause...

Enough to make Clarkson mess his 20-year-old blue jeans...

The World Cup’s sudden saturation of the nation’s televised advertising made me realise that I still had a great deal of planning to do.

For once the tournament itself begins, I will be avoiding all talk of WAGs, the dulcet tones of Venables and the inevitable furore created by the ‘it’s political correctness gone mad’ brigade, as they pretend other people are repressing them by being offended by England shirts the flag of St George. Instead, I will be sampling firsthand how the greatest sporting tournament on Earth is enjoyed elsewhere across the globe.

Unfortunately, logistical and financial restrictions dictate that a trip to the Ivory Coast, Honduras or Japan just wasn’t possible, so instead I will be concentrating my efforts on Europe.

To be precise, I will be taking in, across their bars, cafes and public squares, at least one match of the respective national teams in Greece, Serbia, Slovakia, Slovenia, Italy, Switzerland, France, Germany, Holland and most probably Spain and Portugal. Sorry Danes, if there are any of you reading – Denmark is just in too awkward a place on the map.

My method of transport will be an Interrail global monthly pass, my mission to simply to have an adventure and learn a few things while I’m at it. Granted when most people go travelling they go to learn a few things about culture, art and ‘themselves’, but frankly I’m more interested in learning about how the Serbs remember Savo Milosevic.

I’d like to know if any other countries beside ourselves have a media possessed with a bizarre compulsion to stick the boot into their national side at any given opportunity, and whether anyone outside of our country rates England’s chances in South Africa – or whether, as I suspect, they reply in a Pele-like manner to that line of questioning.

As far as backpacking plans go, this particular jaunt is generally met with one of two reactions when I share it among my peers. Those who like the game, or at least have an appreciation for the World Cup and its effect upon a country, generally give it the thumbs up, knowing full well that if I was ever destined to travel, I was probably destined to travel from bar to bar watching a bunch of millionaires kick a ball around.

It's unlikely we'll see scenes like these in Trafalgar Square...

Those who have nothing but disdain for football, however, and deplore its effect upon the TV schedule, tend to react with bemusement, perplexed at how something as arbitrary as a fixture list can dictate what otherwise would have been a lovely month in Europe.

Frankly, I’m thankful for the fixture list – it has essentially done all the planning for me. Up to a week beforehand, I will still have no idea where I shall be spending 2nd July onwards – I will just be getting on the train towards whichever countries are left in it. Essentially, it is glory hunting on its most literal terms - a leech upon other nations’ success, hoping to suck on all the joy of quarter and semi final victories almost as if they were England’s.

Don’t think I’ve forgotten little old England however. In my head I’ve already calculated a series of scenarios ranging from the ‘Complete Catastrophe’ worst case scenario - losing my passport and wallet on the first day or getting arrested for not bribing a Serbian bobby - all the way to what I call the ‘Icing on the Cake’ scenario. This would involve each and every team I go and watch winning their games in style, creating a carnival mood wherever I tread.

In between those extremes, I’ve considered a series of events which would essentially satisfy most of my desires – an entertaining incident-packed tournament, friendly and passionate natives and table-topping success for my fantasy football side, David Cameroon.

But the vast unpredictability of it all only entices me further. Considering I’ve barely done so much as cross the Channel without a parent or schoolteacher alongside me, I figured it makes sense to start my trip in the one country on my hitlist with an entirely different alphabet, mired in a savage economic crisis which has already turned violent and whose football fans have a reputation for nothing short of volatility.

To Thessaloniki, Greece it is then (on British Airways no less – my flight is currently outside of the strike period by about six hours). Should anyone reading be based in these cities (see full schedule below), or know some friendly football loving English speakers who are – or if you just know these countries well and wish to recommend the best places to watch World Cup matches - it would be grand to hear from you, as I seek to put together a network of continental contacts.

Not because I fear for my safety, more that I fear the ‘don’t quite know anyone at this party’ feeling...

So by all means get in touch, and not just if you are of tangible use to me. I’m happy to hear suggestions on things you’d like from this blog – photos or souvenirs you feel I should obtain, questions you want answered by the locals, any quirky challenges you want to set me.

'Who do you think you are kidding Mr Blatter...'

Full itinerary:

10th June - 12th June: Thessaloniki, Greece.
(GREECE v S Korea; 13:30, 12.6.10)

13th-14th: Belgrade, Serbia.
(SERBIA v Ghana; 16:00, 13.6.10)

14th-17th: Bratislava, Slovakia....
(SLOVAKIA v New Zealand; 13:30, 15.6.10)

17th-19th: Ljubljana, Slovenia.
(SLOVENIA v Usa; 16:00, 18.6.10)

19th-21st: Bologna, Italy.
(ITALY v New Zealand; 16:00, 20.6.10)

21st-22nd: Zurich, Switzerland.
(SWITZERLAND v Chile; 16:00, 21.6.10)

22nd-23rd: Strasbourg, France
(FRANCE v South Africa; 16:00, 22.6.10)

23rd-24th: Munich, Germany
(GERMANY v Ghana; 20:30, 23.6.10)

24th-29th: Amsterdam, Holland
(HOLLAND v Cameroon; 20:30, 24.6.10)

29th: Madrid, Spain (Unconfirmed)  Spain likely to play in 2nd Round at 20:30

2nd/3rd July: Remaining European Quarter Finalists

6th/7th July: Remaining European Semi Finalists

11th July: Remaining European Finalist

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