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A lacklustre Spain looked well past their sell by date not long after Silva failed to score a second goal in the first half, last night. Talk about a game being two halves, you could’ve been forgiven for thinking they were playing the second half of extra time by the end of the first thirty minutes, and hoping for a penalty shoot-out, so tired they seemed.
Up until that moment, they’d appeared like potential winners, passing forward and taking the game to the Dutch time after time. But then at least four years of chasing massive advertising contracts, and tackling deals to dribble over, must’ve have taken their toll. More time spent in front of the studio dressing room mirror, than in the team dressing room, can really go to your head. Literally, in the case of a goalkeeper arguably head and shoulders above all others only a short time ago.
A bad hair day doesn’t even describe his hair. Casillas should definitely stop playing in the rain without a protective plastic covering. Head and Shoulders – as H&S hair shampoo used to be called – may have cured his dandruff, but any hair not falling out last night, must have been torn out by the look of his barnet at the end of the match. His sponsors must be fuming. And it doesn’t look like the sort of problem a short visit to the hairdressers, or a quick-fix toupée, can cure.
Meanwhile, Iniesta, who used to play for ten men, seemed to have no energy, or even the heart, to fight back, after guzzling too much ice cream in front of the cameras to set an example to children. Just goes to prove too many high-cholesterol treats are not good for football either. Those cornets must really take it out of you. And I’m not even going to mention the condition of his hair. It’s not fair to mock the balding. As for the rest of the team, their hair showed no innovation whatsoever. There wasn’t even the hint of a Mohawk, or a shaven design, among the lot of them. Not even a green or pink streak. And beards are so last year. Oh, you wanted to know how they played? Two thirds of the match they looked like mauled gazelles stopping to lick their wounds while still being chased down by a pack of lions, about sums it up.
That”s not to take the Dutch victory away from them. Though revenge can taste sweet, revenge such as this is not fair to the more faint-hearted Spanish fan. Robbens played magnificently, as did van Persi, to name just two, who could’ve probably won on their own. They had come to assassinate and that’s what they did. But a weary Spain probably helped make them look far better than they may turn out to be against sturdier opponents.
Not to worry, I’ll still be rooting for Spain against Chile next Wednesday, hoping for a lot better. I just hope they can do something about that hair before kick-off.
It’s starting to feel like I’m back in England supporting my home national team at World Cup time. Ah, the nostalgia all floods back now, along with the tears; the tragic sensation of losing badly. I’d almost forgotten how good emotional masochism is for the tortured souls among us.
Copyright © 2014 Bryan Hemming
Une fois. Encore.
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