Oct. 6th, 2001

fleetfootmike: (Default)
I'm not a football fan. Not in the dyed in the wool, go to every game wearing my team's scarf, own a replica shirt and bleed my teams colours way. But I am English, and fiercely proud to be so: I *do* bleed red, white and blue when England are playing, be it soccer, rugby, cricket...

Today, the equation is very simple. England have to do as well or better against Greece at home as Germany do in Finland. If we do, we qualify for the World Cup. If we don't, it's the playoffs.

Greece are no Brazil: they aren't a pushover, but we should win.

5 mins in, David Beckham lines up one of his thunderbolt freekicks from 30 yards out. The Greek keeper saves it. There'll be other chances, surely. Greece are doing well, pushing forward, and suddenly, 20 minutes in, the unthinkable happens: Rio Ferdinand attempts to clear a cross, and the ball lands right in the path of a Greek striker: one touch, across the goal, past the diving Nigel Martyn, into the far corner. 0-1.

Half time. England have had two attempts on goal all half. Not good. Finland are still holding Germany 0-0. We just need a goal.

The second half starts much brighter: we press forward, several strikes get chances, but nothing hits home. Nigel Martyn pulls off an unbelievable save to keep the score at 1-1. Over in Finland, Germany are kept out by his Finnish counterpart, not once but three times.

67 minutes gone: England freekick, wide on the left. There's a pause while Teddy Sherringham comes on as a substitute, a man who wouldn't even be in the squad if it weren't for an injury to Michael Owen. Beckham lofts the freekick over, Sherringham rises to meet it and a looping header clears the Greek keeper and slides neatly under the bar into the back of the net. Fairy tale stuff. He's only been on the field 13 seconds. Old Trafford erupts.

The TV commetators are still in shock when there's a scrappy exchange in the England penalty area from which a Greek foot latches on to a loose ball. Martyn is beaten again. 1-2. The crowd is stunned into silence.

It's still, against all the odds, 0-0 in Finland, with the Finnish keeper performing miracles. Beckham gets another freekick. High, wide and handsome: he kicks the ground in frustration. Five minutes later, he gets another - so close, this one: hits the side netting, and the side of the ground away from it are briefly fooled. but Beckham's reaction tells the truth.

The time is almost up now: another freekick: Beckham lines it up, just right of centre, and unleashes another trademark rocket. No joy - a Greek head deflects it away for a corner.

The FIFA official has his little board up: four minutes of stoppage time. Four whole minutes. And it's full time in Finland: still, miraculously, 0-0. Everyone is on the edge of their seat, or head in hands, or chewing nails. We just need a goal.

Free kick! Dead centre, less than a minute to go. Beckham lines it up. This is his eighth of the game, the eighth he's taken direct at goal. All of the other seven have missed. This has to be his last chance.

Sherringham moves in to offer to take it. Beckham doesn't even look at him, doesn't want to know.

Half a dozen steps back, then the curving run, and the Beckham right foot unleashes a curving, dipping shot that slides past the wall, into the top left corner, sweet as you like. And Old Trafford goes absolutely bonkers.

You couldn't have scripted this.

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