A lesson in schadenfreude for the Germans
CLEARLY, Germany gave us the word
schadenfreude for a reason. Or for a moment: specifically, the moment when their football team, that most deftly tuned piece of Teutonic engineering, tumbled out of the World Cup in the opening round for the first time in 80 years.
Much weeping ensued, naturally, beside the Brandenburg Gate. And yet in just about any bar that bore a St George’s flag, the only tears last night were of laughter.
Cruel, of course, to revel in the misfortune of others. This is a game, though, that warps the boundaries of human emotional response. England’s World Cup anguish at German hands is stitched in history like a black thread, from Paul Gascoigne’s tears in Turin at Italia 90 to Frank Lampard’s disallowed goal in Bloemfontein 20 years later. So, if there was satisfaction in Die
Mannschaft’s premature exit, then it flowed from seeing, if only for once, all that accumulated misery switch sides on a pitch in deepest Russia.
Joachim Löw, Germany’s elegantly ageing hipster coach, looked as if he had just seen a ghost. Which, in a way, he had, given the demons that seem to haunt defending World Cup champions. First France fell at the first hurdle of their title defence in 2002, then Italy in 2010, and even Spain four years ago.
Still, for Germany to join this unenviable roster? This required an almost preposterous leap of faith, a Sport: Pages 1-3
belief that those who beat Brazil 7-1 on their own turf in 2014 might somehow contrive to lose to South Korea.
But lose they did, 2-0, courtesy of a shapeless, shambolic performance that cut against just about every established German archetype.
That redoubtable defence? Sliced like liver pâté. That “invincible” goalkeeper? Well, Manuel Neuer looked much as he had from the outset of this World Cup, a man selected on sentiment rather than form, and too disposed to the kind of flashy outfield trickery that allowed South Korea’s Kim Young-gwon to angle the decisive second goal into an open net. True to this most technology-heavy of tournaments, the first, by Son Heungmin, had to be confirmed via recourse to the virtual assistant referee (VAR).
Perhaps one should resist too much misplaced hubris. After all, it is not as if England have achieved anything yet, beyond outlasting Germany in games played for the first World Cup ever. Why the triumphalism, then? Largely, it is because English appreciation of the German method is never any more than grudging. Even when Löw’s team swept to victory in the most recent final against Argentina, the most common descriptors – “clinical”, “effective”, “ruthless” – were the kinds of accolades we might reserve for a fridge.
What would Gareth Southgate say? Such is the England manager’s scrupulous diplomacy, he would most likely encourage the nation’s supporters to show the Germans some grace and restraint. So, resist breaking out the bunting just yet. Keep those “Achtung, surrender” headlines in cold storage. And, whatever you do, don’t mention the VAR.