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"In the end, destiny is in the hands of the players. We can
either be beaten or we can be glorified."
And amen to that, brother. And Guus Hiddink, who said it after
the Socceroos' 1-0 loss to Uruguay in the first leg of the World
Cup qualifier. The air will be dripping with a sense of destiny
at Telstra Stadium on Wednesday night. Two goals, none conceded.
That is the equation for Australian football. Knock a couple in,
stop them from scoring any. Then we're off to the Big Dance -
the World Cup - for the first time since 1974. Oh the thought.
Usually a sense of destiny comes with a feeling of confidence
or optimism. However, Socceroos players past and present, officials
and fans will not be so sure. They've been hurt before. We've
been hurt before. Then there are the question marks. The queries
about our ability to finish off red-hot scoring opportunities,
our ability to stop Uruguay mastermind Recoba, our ability to
stop him from set pieces. Is Harry Kewell really fit? Will Mark
Viduka ever score a bloody goal for Australia, despite the blinder
he had on Sunday morning? Will the long haul back from Montevideo
knock the wind out of us more than the Uruguayans? Can Mark Schwarzer
make as many miraculous stops as he did in the first leg? If a
Uruguayan player takes a dive in the back play, will anyone at
Telstra Stadium see it? Questions, questions...
Here's another one, for FIFA. Why oh why do these teams have
to play two matches in less than four days with a 20-hour plane
trip in between? Why are the politics of kick off times and chartered
flights a factor in who qualifies? For all their skulduggery,
if Uruguay gets beaten because they couldn't rustle up a chartered
Qantas jet fitted with massage tables like the Aussies, instead
having to fly economy, they have every right to have a whinge.
Then again, it will probably make up for the manner in which they
play the round-ball game: grabbing, holding, clutching, scratching,
diving, Tony Award-winning hijinx... Yeah, you are right. Stuff
'em. Let's hope they copped a few bad movies on the way over and
all had to sit next to really fat men who snore.
Let's pull out the oldest cliché in the sportswriting
cliché book: Australian football is on a knife edge. Dead-set
dancing along it. The nation is collectively holding its breath,
waiting to see if we can at last make it to the World Cup finals.
It's been a year in which the impossible has eventuated for many
in Australian sport. The Swans were never supposed to win an AFL
flag, the Wests Tigers were never a chance to win the NRL title.
No horse was ever supposed to win three Melbourne Cups in a row.
The Wallabies could not have possibly have so inept, but they
have...
The bookies have Australia as favourites, but that is a game
call. Without sounding like an old stoner from the 1970s, it's
all about destiny, man - destiny. It's up to the Socceroos to
complete a little slice of their own.
Click your way to our Comebacks
page and tell us what you think.
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