As if it were white

As the final whistle blew, MetLife Stadium erupted in a sea of yellow. Up above, down below, in the stands, on the pitch. White – the colour of the German shirts – was virtually invisible. Up above and down below. As if the colour had quietly faded away. Along with the match.

Germany lost 1–2 to Ecuador. A deserved defeat, as national coach Nagelsmann himself later admitted. His description of the second half was: “A bit too much freestyle.”

That’s a remarkably polite way of putting it.

‘Freestyle’ sounds like courage. Like creativity. Like people who know the rules and consciously choose to ignore them. Above all, ‘freestyle’ sounds like fun. What we saw was something else entirely. Too many simple turnovers. Too little clarity. Too little conviction. A team that looked as though it still had to agree on why it actually wanted to win this match.

Ecuador didn’t need to discuss that.

You could see it in their faces. Alert, bright eyes – no tension, but concentration with a sparkle in them. In the sprints, which didn’t look like a chore, but like genuine determination. In the counter-pressing, which came as if everyone had had the same thought at the same time. After a misplaced pass, no heads bowed, no recriminations, no lamenting. Instead: encouragement. A laugh. A clap. A brief hug. And on they went. As if a mistake were not the end of an idea, but its next attempt.

Pure will to win. Unconditional passion. And right in the middle of it all, time and again, that laughter, which had nothing frivolous about it – but rather something liberating.

In top-level sport, joy is no trivial matter. It is often a surprisingly productive form of concentration.

The Ecuadorian manager had been heavily criticised in his own country before the match. Boos in his own stadium, mind you. After the final whistle in New Jersey, an entire nation celebrated him. Ecuador promptly declared 25 June a national holiday from that day onwards.

Germany has been analysing the second half ever since.

The question

One might now argue that Germany had already secured top spot in the group. Nagelsmann wanted to rotate the squad, manage the players’ workload and give playing time to players who otherwise hardly feature. All of which is understandable.

And yet one thought lingered.

Can’t you play with joy and enthusiasm precisely at such a time? Not because you have to. But because you can. Out of enthusiasm for the cause and out of respect for the game. For the opposition. Out of respect for the more than 80,000 people in this huge stadium. Out of respect for one’s own profession.

For thousands of years, people have, surprisingly, rarely followed only the wisest.

They follow those who are enthusiastic.

The Bigger Game

Germany is currently playing the sort of football that fits its mood remarkably well. A country brimming with skill. Brimming with experience. Brimming with possibilities. But also prone to gloom, complicated in every turn – and full of doubt.

For years, surveys have shown that Germans take a more pessimistic view of their future than many of their neighbours, whose economic or political situation is objectively more difficult. Other countries often look at Germany with genuine amazement. They see engineering prowess, science, strong companies, culture and ideas. The Germans themselves, surprisingly often, see first and foremost what isn’t working yet.

It is difficult to pinpoint exactly what is missing. But perhaps it is precisely those three things that were so conspicuously absent on the pitch that evening.

Joy. Not a superficial good mood, but a deep conviction that it is worth giving one’s all. Societies in which this conviction prevails – the Scandinavian democracies, for example – are, not coincidentally, also the most innovative. Joy is the breeding ground on which courage, a willingness to experiment and a constructive culture of learning from mistakes can first take root. Where cynicism reigns, nothing new grows.

Self-confidence. An unshakeable trust in one’s own abilities and values. A top-class team that concedes a goal does not fall apart. It acts calmly, focuses on its strengths and intuitively readjusts its approach. Societies function in exactly the same way – provided they have a clear picture of who they are and what they are capable of. Germany has this picture. It’s just that it rarely looks at it.

Spirit. The feeling of being part of a shared endeavour. That it’s not just about me, but about us. The Ecuadorians had that. You could see it not only in their physicality and their sprints. You could see it when, after a mistake, heads didn’t drop but hands went up. Where this sense of community is lacking, what remains is a collection of individuals who are good at what they do – but not a whole that burns with passion.

Leon

And then there was Leon Goretzka.

The Bayern player had spent the entire match on the bench – which was perhaps the most sensible thing to do that evening. After the final whistle, he got on the wrong bus. Not the German one. The Ecuadorian one. Both buses were parked right next to each other, painted blue, with a flag and the country’s name written in huge letters. Goretzka only realised his mistake once he was in the driver’s area. He turned round. Eventually, he found the right one.

“Leon’s just a winner,” commented German fans on Instagram.

With a wink.

It was the image of the evening. Perhaps also, to some extent, the image of the moment.

Paraguay

On Monday evening, Germany are playing Paraguay. It would be nice if someone in the dressing room said: We’re not playing now because we have to. We’re playing because we can. Because we want to. Because football, when you play it properly, is a bloody lot of fun.

Last Thursday evening, yellow was the happier colour.

But white could just as easily have been.