Holland over Spain, for Cruyff's sake

Tony Becca, Contributor

When the World Cup began a month ago in Johannesburg, on June 11 to be exact, almost all of Jamaica was betting that today it would be Brazil, and another team, contesting the final, and that Brazil would easily walk away with the title.

Well, to the disappointment, to the frustration, not only of themselves, but to the army of Jamaicans who worship at their shrine, Brazil are already at home. And, based on their history and their reputation, so, too, some of the other big guns in the game.

With former champions Germany now packing their bags, those already at home include former champions Argentina and Uruguay - the surprise of the tournament, and so too Italy, France, and England, past champions who, this time around, were utterly disappointing.

With Brazil and company out of the running, the two teams left standing are Spain and Holland, and although Argentina, my pick for the title, despite the presence of Diego Maradona as coach, are at home. The showdown should be a treat.

It is a final apparently made in heaven.

Not many Jamaicans expected it would have been Spain vs Holland in the title match, but based on the players on show, based on the type of football the two teams play, it should not have been a surprise.

the beautiful game

Football is known around the world as the beautiful game, and that is so because of the style of teams like Brazil from time immemorial, of Hungary of ancient times, of Argentina of recent vintage, of Holland of the 1970s, of Denmark of 1986, and quite recently, also because of Spain.

The skill of the masters from these countries, players like Pele, Garrincha, Vava, and Didi, Carlos Alberto, Gerson, Jairzinho, and Revelino, Zico and Socrates, etcetera, etc, from Brazil, Puskas, Kocsis, Czibor, and Hidegkuti from Hungary, Kempes, Ardiles, Luque, Maradona, and Caniggia from Argentina, Haan, Rep, Neeskens, and Johan Cruyff from Holland, and Elkjaer, Laudrup, and Olsen from Denmark, is another reason why football is known as the beautiful game.

Today, in early afternoon Jamaica time, it will be Spain vs Holland in Soccer City, even if Cesc Fabregas, the Arsenal star and one of my nephew Michael's favourite players, does not start for Spain, it will be the likes of David Villa, Andres Iniesta, Carles Puyol, Gerard Pique, Xavi Hernandez, and Xabi Alonso against Arjen Robben, Wesley Sneijder, Robin van Persie, and Giovanni van Bronckhorst, and despite the pressure of battling for the world title, especially so that neither has ever worn the crown, that one has never even been so close and that other has muffed it on two occasions, despite the warning of Holland's coach, Bert van Marwijk, that an ugly win is better than a pretty loss, it should be a mouth-watering treat - a match to remember.

Who will win it? That's a difficult question to answer, for while my head tells me that despite their reputation to underachieve, Spain, the European champions, the short-passing masters, and the team with Villa, arguably the greatest striker around, should win, my heart is whispering Holland.

Why Holland? I do not know.

Apart from the fact that Spain lost their first-round match and no team has ever lost their first match and gone on to win the cup. Apart from the fact that Holland appear ready to learn from mistakes of the past and are focused on winning, what I do know is that Robben, a wonderful dribbler with a wicked left-foot shot, is a magician. A man that seems able to conjure up goals from nowhere and anywhere, and Sneijder, one of the best passers of the ball in the business, is a man for the big occasion.

What I do know also is that I can still see, in my mind's eye, the Holland team, not so much of 1978 but more so that of 1974 charming and hypnotising the world, and the opposing players, with their wonderful skills, I can still see, Cruyff, one of the greatest footballers of my time, probably only behind Pele, Maradona, and George Best, moving Neeskens, Rep and company up and down the pitch like a master conductor, and I can still remember my disappointment when they lost 1-2 to a stodgy, defence-minded West German team playing at home.

After attacking the Germans from the start and running all over them, Cruyff was fouled, a penalty was awarded, and Holland scored.

That was in the first minute, not one German had touched the ball before goalkeeper Sepp Maier picked it from the back of the net, and for 20 or so minutes, the Dutch ran rings around the Germans.

doubtful penalty

Out of the blue, however, the Germans were awarded a penalty - a doubtful penalty at that.

It was a penalty call which today, probably, would have been treated as a dive, and with West Germany scoring shortly afterwards and going on to win, it was a penalty that many believed changed the course of the game.

For almost the entire second half, with Cruyff leading the way, the Dutch attacked. With Rensenbrink and Rijsbergen out of action due to injuries, however, with Maier in brilliant form, they never even found the equaliser.

The Dutch team of 1974 is the best team, in my opinion, never to have won the cup. Watching the action on big screen at the National Arena, I do not believe I have ever seen football played so beautifully. As good as Spain with Villa and company may be, as much as they also deserve the honour of being champions, I believe that Holland deserve to win and maybe that is why my heart is whispering to me.

Every time I think of football, I think of the World Cup, arguably the greatest show on earth, every time I think of the World Cup I remember Munich 1974, and every time I remember that final I think of only two things, Holland and, but for Pele, Maradona, and Best, the incomparable Johan Cruyff.