The Golden Cup

Finally South Africa said "Spain", and red and yellow shined from the eye of the all-knowing German octopus.

Netherlands-Spain was an intense game, played with muscles and nerves. Nerves have been the leitmotif of the whole competition, the constant theme of these games.

Nerves, psychological concentration, self-awareness made the tangible difference among competitors. Nerves were missing, or maybe overwhelming, in teams like Italy and France. Nerves cracked for England, Ghana and then for Brazil. Brazilians played well, but were not used to difficulties: with the first tempest they disappeared from the horizon.

This was the World Cup of Maradona, his return as a trainer, with many people (me included) hoping to see him raising the cup in front of the president of FIFA Mr. Blatter. The Hand of God raising the Golden Cup...only Michelangelo could imagine something more harmonic.

Uruguay hypnotized Ghana, Argentina hypnotized Mexico, Germany hypnotized Argentina, Spain and the octopus hypnotized Germany. Then Germany-Uruguay, the most beautiful game, a game from the 50's, heart and legs under the lights of the African night.

Then Maradona left, Lippi left, Domenec left, Capello is too expensive to be replaced, Del Bosque (Super Mario trainer) became a national hero.

The last game, untouched nets. Suddenly the flash of Iniesta. And boom, it's history, the first World Championship in Africa, the first one with freezing weather. Africa is also this, the warm, freezing mother.

See you Spain, Princess of Europe and Queen of the World, see you in four years, in the land where soccer is played...dancing.