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At about 3.45am on Thursday, the crowd started to surge. The throng
had gathered at the top of George Street in the Sydney CBD, decked
in gold, hoarse of throat and united in overwhelming national
pride. They slowly snaked towards the Rocks, the birthplace of
the nation, and as the mob surged, it grew in numbers and voice.
Supporters grabbed others from inside of bars, strangers arm in
arm, all marching to somewhere, not that they knew, for not apparent
reason than it seemed like the right thing to do. Police lobbed
and blocked off the main street, the coppers wearing smiles wider
than the rest of them. They were all chanting, singing, warbling
out songs that didn't make sense. Sheer delight...
The Socceroos were into the World Cup. You bloody beauty.
Does it get any better than this? Probably not. Probably
not even better than if we win the World Cup in Germany next year,
although that is a comment made in delirium. What's certain is
that the nation just witnessed the greatest sporting event ever
on these shores. Big call, of course. And one hastily but unashamedly
made with the emotion still on high beam. It's probably wrong,
others out there will send in emails and shoot it down and say,
"Your Up Front writer should get off the smack now".
But Jesus... Who cares?
For those who were at Telstra Stadium on Wednesday night, it will
never be forgotten. Let's not compare the moment with other great
ones seen in that stadium, anywhere for that matter. But you can
compare noise and when Marco Bresciano scored Australia's first
goal in the first half, well, the sound was louder than when Cathy
won in 2000. That's what happens when you have 80,000 of 82,000
supporters all cheering for the one side. But while the volume
was hardly turned down - whether it "oohs", "aahs"
or "what the *&$#$%^@ is happening here?" - for
the entire match, through the extra-time and the penalty shoot-out,
the loudest thunder came when Adelaide-born John Aloisi slotted
home the winning penalty from 12 yards out. Incredible.
Coach Guus Hiddink should be knighted. Football Federation Australia
boss John O'Neill deserves credit, as does chairman Frank Lowy.
And let's pat Frank Farina on the back. Terry Venables, you did
your best, here have a beer. The boys from 1974 who last got us
there, the players in between, the ones who never made the Australian
side, the taxi driver that got this author home, fellow man...
Well done. And as for the late Johnny Warren, who was emotionally
hailed before the game... Well, let's not say anything because
we'll all mist up and have tears streaming down our faces. Nothing
needs to be said there at all.
What's clear is this: on Wednesday night, the entire nation found
the national team it has been longing for. We have been dislocated
from our inaccessible cricketers for years, the Wallabies and
Kangaroos appeal to two and a half states and we get excited about
the national swim team once every four years. Who'd have thought
that the team that has brought so much heartache for 31 years,
playing a code that has been so shambolic in its administration,
would bring the nation together like this? Marching down the street
at 3.45 in the morning for no reason, united in victory?
Click your way to our Comebacks
page and tell us what you think.
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