Author's note: Written: 05.07.2006,
'A hundred and ten minutes into the game and we're still not sure which side is going into the finals..' The commentator voiced his thoughts. His fellow commentator fell in agreement. Almost immediately Del Pierro threatened the German goal again, missing by a yard. As time ticked away, the action oscillated rapidly from one end to the other, leaving the mid field to itself.
With three minutes to another impending sudden death decider, a flock of Azzuris swooped into the German territory before one of the defenders hastily cleared the ball. A pat on the head from Lehmann for the save, but they'd still conceded a corner. A fatal one. Del Pierro executed the kick, Pirlo darted in but was blocked by the Berlin wall. One quick move towards the outfield followed by a deft pass saw the ball elude the German defense to kiss Grusso's feet. Fabio Grusso produced a neat deflection to send the sphere hurling at the goal. Lehmann lunged to his right stretching like a rubberband. The football teased him by inches and sank into the nets.
'Oh my goodness…what a way to score…surely Italy are going to Berlin on Sunday…' The commentator screamed inspite of himself.
Ballack watched, Klinsmann watched, several thousand German fans watched as the Jules Rimet melted before their very eyes. Silence could be heard amidst the Italian uproar. Grusso was ecstatic. Lippi bounded out of his seat like a happy child. The Germans stood paralysed.
Podolski and Ballack made one last weak attempt to redeem lost hope. But Rome came burning down the field for the final assault. Iaquento launched himself at full speed, Metzelder cutting him off only momentarily. Alessandro Del Pierro flew in like a meteor to collect the reverse pass and fired it past a helpless Lehmann. Lehmann leapt at it in an acrobatic effort for whatever it was worth, but the ball skimmed over him and bounced into the German nets for the second time in two minutes.
'Del Pierro…Del Pierro….Berliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin here we come…….' The commentator's excitement poured into the microphone as a jubiliant Alex sprinted all over punching his fists in the air.
A deafening roar swept across the stadium. Ballack couldn't contain himself and tears rimmed his eyes. Odonkor was inconsolable. So was the girl in the stands, with a Deutsche flag imprinted on her cheek. The last few seconds of the game were lost in Italian revelation.
His pair of steely blue eyes looked into the distance, betraying all emotions. Juergen Klinsmann rolled up his sleeves and walked on to the field to console his team.
Germany had found their nemesis in Italy. Like an alarm piercing through the silence of the morning, Italy had jolted them awake from their dream.
Italy seemed the more determined side, from the very start. They blazed through the field and tore into the opponent's defense. Germany had to resort to some recursive football to keep them at bay. Lehmann never had a dull moment in the first half. More than once, the German defense was found wanting. After half time, Germany displayed a more energised play and went after the Italian goal. It looked like they played very methodical football. A tad too methodical. They would almost get there, but if something didn't work to plan, they'd get on the defensive. A tiring Italy bid its way into extra time. Meanwhile Ballack failed on a free kick. Podolski headed the wrong way. Schneider's best chance soared above the cross bar. Gianluci Bouffon warded off the best German attempts to break in.
Extra time saw a renewed Italian attack. They soon spotted chinks in the German armour and on two occasions, the goal post had to come to Germany's rescue . The inflictions continued in a surge, hardly giving time for the opposition to recoup. That evening in Dortmund, Italy deserved the victory they played for, reaching the finals once again, a pattern they have been following every twelve years since 1970.
As Germany pick themselves up to their feet and gather the remnants of a shattered reverie, they still have some consolation. An honourable third place to play for on Saturday. Klose still heads the list of goal scorers and is a clear two goals ahead of anyone else, keeping alive his hopes for the golden boot. Klinsmann could still fulfil his dream of emulating Beckenbauer's success. But that will have to wait a while.
About dinner on Sunday evening. Will it be Pasta and croissants with Bourdeaux wine? Given the whimsicalities of the game, one can never tell!
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