Classic Azzurri Matches – Italy vs Germany 2006

Reliving the 2006 World Cup semi-final against Germany will bring a smile to the face of every Italian, while the final was a tense and cagey affair, it’s predecessor was lauded as the game of the tournament.

Europe’s two most successful nations faced each other in Dortmund’s magnificent Westfalenstadoin, “The Opera House of German football”.

The obligatory flags and scarves were methodically set in place, (the same spot they had been for the previous rounds) the shirt was on, and the scene was set. The living room was like a shrine to La Nazionale.

Amongst all the displays of nationalist pride, there was an uncertainty in the air, the Germans had been playing some exciting football and with the whole nation behind them it seemed as though the story was building towards the grand Hollywood ending.

La Nazionale meanwhile had come off the back of another calciopoli scandal, although back then the details were still far from clear, Italian football was seemingly in a state of disarray. Much of the media bemoaned our playing style and the make-up of our squad. The ever reliable team of anti-Azzurri pundits were in place in the studio, rubbing their hands together at the prospect of an Italian exit.

What seemed like an age of ramblings and pre-match build up, finally gave way to shots of the two sides making their way into the imposing amphitheatre of a stadium. The 65,000 strong crowd were out in full voice, creating a deafening cacophony of noise. The Germans had never lost an international fixture playing here; the stands seemed almost vertical in their construction, La Nazionale were in the lions den itself, the odds were stacked.

The game started in a promising fashion, the midfield of Gattuso, Perrotta, Camoranesi and Pirlo were getting the better of their German counterparts in the middle third. I was pleasantly surprised at the manner in which we hunted down the ball and didn’t allow the Germans to set the tempo.

Totti looked sharp and was looking for the ball every time we entered the German half, his cut inside from the left wing and wonderfully flighted ball between the German right-back and centre-back fed one of Perrotta’s lung bursting runs, although the Roma mans touch let him down and Lehmann gratefully smothered the ball.

Cannavaro and Materazzi were expertly marshaling the Germans dangerous front two of Klose and Podolski, they had to be kept quiet if we were to have a chance of silencing the partisan crowd. When the Germans did play there way through, creating a chance for Schneider on the right-hand side of the box, the winger’s rasping shot flew a few inches over the bar.

With Pirlo’s craft and vision I felt our best route to goal was through the full-backs pinning back Lahm and Friedrich. Grosso and Zambrotta were the outlets which created the space for our central players to dictate the game. Grosso skinned a cumbersome Friedrich, knocking the ball between his legs and then delivering a low cross to an advancing Luca Toni, only for Mertesacker to block the strikers stab at goal.

This was the best football from an Azzurri side that I could remember, the slow and languid style of play was gone, we controlled large periods of the first half and looked dangerous on every attack.

The half-time whistle came as did the barrage of texts from my England supporting friends, congratulating me on the teams play and how typically un-Italian it was. The only concern was that we hadn’t scored, the old cliché of ‘you have to score when your on top’ was racing through my head.

Surely our dominance had to pay off? And how long could we keep the Germans at bay? Surely their chance was going to come sooner or later? The second half began and Lippi was his typically pensive self in the dugout, nervously studying every facet of our play. His face conveyed the feelings of millions of Italians around the world. Each one having their own opinion on who should have started where, and whether or not De Rossi should have been included in the starting eleven after serving his three game suspension.

Thus far, Lippi had outwitted Jurgen Klinsmann, shackling the creative talents of  Ballack and Borowski, who struggled to make an impression on the game. Pirlo was at his irrepressible best, conducting every Azzuri attack with all the precision and awareness watchers of Italy have become accustomed too.

It was perhaps Klose who had his side’s best chance of the night, picking the ball up 30 yards from goal on a German break and with Gattuso tracking him all the way, and a back-peddling Cannavaro, the striker burst through the space which Materazzi had vacated to find himself one on one with an on-rushing Buffon.

In my head the deadly striker (who was top-scorer in the tournament) was going to knock it past Gigi for a German lead, a lead which the majority of the stadium was praying for. The Juventus stopper was impenetrable between the sticks though, as he galloped out to knock the ball away before Klose could pull the trigger.

With just under twenty minutes left Lippi made his first move in, bringing on Gilardino for an exhausted Luca Toni, the towering forward had run himself into the ground and was somewhat of the battering ram ahead of all the intricate promptings of Pirlo and Totti.

Aside from a Lehmann punch ahead of an advancing Perrotta, both sides struggled to make a meaningul impression going forward as the game wound into extra-time.  At least there was none of this golden goal lunacy like in France 98, I couldn’t bear us being knocked out on a golden goal after the performance I had just witnessed.

Lippi’s next tactical move was decisive, the whole room was urging him to make attacking changes, no-one could bare the thought of penalties. He didn’t disappoint, Iaquinta replaced Camoranesi and before the half-time interval Del Piero was brought on for Perrotta, born in Manchester don’t you know (as you may have heard throughout every Italy game).

In extra time a jinxing Gilardino hit the post with a wonderful crafted opening, cutting in from the by-line; the ball hit the inside of the post and rebounded harmlessly out of the goal-mouth.

A tireless Zambrotta had rattled the crossbar with a thunderous strike after collecting a half-cleared Pirlo corner. By this time, heads were in hands, the agony was too much to bear. As the game became even more stretched, Podolski collected a Kehl pass 14 yards from goal just past the near post, Buffon tipped his dipping shot over, a wonderfully agile save.

As the game approached its final minute, the majestic Pirlo collected a Iaquinta flick 35 yards from goal, the German’s looked tired and were backing off him, he unleashed a drive at Lehmann’s goal gaining La Nazionale a corner.

Del Piero’s out swinging corner was headed out as far as Pirlo on the edge of the box, advancing to the right in what seemed like slow motion; the regista delivered a sumptuously disguised pass between two advancing German players to a waiting Grosso, who curled the ball past the despairing Lehmann into the far post.

The room erupted, 119 minutes into the semi-final the goal had arrived, after all the joy and relief, when everyone had eventually settled down, we realised their was a still a minute to play, my Italian pessimism came flooding back, there was still time.

This was fortunately unfounded as with the Germans committed going forward Del Piero made it 2-0, caressing the ball into the top corner after a swift counter attack. We had done it, against all the odds, in ruining the German’s story we had created our own, one which was far from over.

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Remember and check out the rest of the Classic Azzurri Matches.