Deceit and Thuggery live in 3D! by maTT vZ

It is the biggest production ever.

The budget is absolutely enormous; the sets built for it are stunning and expansive, among the largest in the world. Filming on-sight has been at 9 different locations and in more than fifty studios on six continents, with the largest cast of extras ever used – up to 100 000 in one area alone. Hundreds of cameras shoot close-up, on the ground, on tracks, on cranes, with robotic cables and helicopter shots from every angle to capture the action in high-definition, three-dimensional glory. More graphics firms have been involved in the effects than any other production. There are more installments than Harry Potter and there’s a sequel every four years. It will be the best thing on screen this year and boasts the largest all-star, highest-earning, most award-winning all-male cast of the biggest names of anything filmed ever.

The filming is superb, with beautiful slow close-ups and bullet-time cascades of salivating action.

The script is nail biting, with all to lose and ecstatic victory teasing in every scene.

The soundtrack is vivid and powerful, rising in crescendo at key points and invoking dizziness in tense moments. All in all it could be the most exciting spectacle you ever see.

Which is a pity, because the acting utterly, utterly sucks.

Strangely, in theory this should present no problem, because these superstars were never hired to act, or even look pretty – although apparently some of them do this so well women melt like toffee when they grin. No, these guys were all hired, every one of them, at the centre of all the cameras, extras, graphics, studios and sets… to kick a ball.

And they do this well, fantastically well. It provides enthrallment unmatched in entertainment -- especially if you’ve been lucky enough to catch a game live at one of the 3D cinemas (yes, based on that, this a cinamah article and I get to rant for a bit, but this had it coming). Anyway, with such awesome camerawork you see the depth and delicacy of some magnificent footwork and teamplay. Unfortunately, you also then see wailing, flailing & grimacing of such quality it’s worthy of a 3rd grade mimed stage play of Grey’s Anatomy.

Aaaaannd here enters the happily raging debate. Some say it is part of the game, some say these incidents should be cited post-match. Others call for more exotic and although appealing, ultimately unrealistic measures. If you banned everyone guilty for 5 or 10 matches, we’d always be watching 5-a-side.

I suppose being from a rugby nation, it all looks a little…. naff. If a guy in the rugby team rolled around like that the opposing team would be so embarrassed for their opponents they’d offer to take the dude out back and sort him out, but will be declined because his own team would rather do it. It goes the same for the screaming at the ref, throwing of tantrums or blatant fouls – you do any of that, you get sent off my friend.

The argument for it is that unless a player elaborates, professional fouls go unpunished and strikers are not protected. But when you see the theatrics on display, courtesy the barrage of high-tech equipment that captures every treacherous moment, that argument is shown up for what it is – justification.

Take Kieta in Ivory Coast’s matchup against Brazil. When it is he who in fact runs into Kaka, he seemingly mistakes his chest for his head and a body bump for vicious blunt force trauma inflicted by a raving lunatic. A common mistake, really, we can reflect, as he rolls on the floor in agony, the only thing holding his apparently eviscerated face together being his righteously trembling hands.

Or Torres when Spain met Chile, performing an elegant pirouette midair, having not being touched by defender Estrada who wasn’t even looking at the guy but rather the BALL and the PLAY, and obviously not the dramatic ballet that Torres was wrapped up in.

The list goes on, almost every team, in every game. This list is joined by another just as long, from the other side of this dirty coin – that of players who blatantly hack and slash at opponents, spontaneously take up volleyball and perform any number of pro fouls to achieve their goals. Thierry Henry’s callous double handball prior to the finals seemed too much but became only the opening scene for Brazil’s Fabiano to impress enough to be offered a spot in the Chicago Bulls lineup with his b-ball skillz in the same Ivory Coast game that Kaka was red-carded, and for the ultimate slap in the face of FIFA’s ‘fair play’ motto: Suarez’s flappy-flap pinball save of Ghana’s last-minute-of-extra-time-semi-final-here-we-come goal against Uruguay.

The sadness of all this that there has been some really special football played, but it has been marred by this behaviour, which although is not from all the players, is to some degree largely accepted and practiced by many. Looking at it, the best way to describe it is well, childish. Spoilt, pampered and adored childish. Which is kinda pathetic.

But, as many say, it’s part of the game. That cannot be denied, and sadly the reason for this is that it is allowed to be part of the game. If we are in the sorry state where we can’t expect grown men to act as such and with sportsmanship, honour and dignity, and have to police them like spoilt whiny children -- albeit very talented and hard-training ones – then it falls to the governing body to take responsibility, otherwise you are looking at deceit and thuggery in every game. That’s as far as I’ll go on the matter – FIFA has so much flak heading it’s way now that digressing on the subject would be like pelting them with olive pips while they are being stoned with Jubalani balls filled with cement.

End of the day, the question begs; why is it football/soccer suffers such indignity and no other sport? Really, think about it. Any other sports come to mind? Now if you are thinking to defend football, might I suggest not thinking ‘professional wrestling’, you’re not helping your case much. But that’s about all you got out there. Really, really sad.

And why? It is the most popular sport on the planet. Teams and players are idolized way beyond the imaginings of ancient Greek, Viking or Egyptian gods. In England it’s practically a religion. They have a slush fund there to prop up the Monday economy when there is a derby game in London Sunday and half the people from the losing team don’t pitch for work. These players, particularly the adored strikers of sublime skill and rippling abs, are worshipped to a degree that they can get away with anything. Ronaldo is caught with two prostitutes, fathers a child with another woman other than his girlfriend and announces the joyful birth online in a webcast for fans to celebrate. This is in one week. They can do no wrong. One does not question the glorious, talented, beautiful gods. They are not subject to the morals of mere men. On contrare, they are to be adored. Highlighting this point is Suarez, upon ‘saving’ Uruguay, hoisted on shoulders as a hero, vindicated by coach and country, even himself claiming ‘the Hand of God now belongs to me’.

It’s a state of affairs that allows us to look as how desperate we are for victory and heroes in our lives that we make gods out of men and sainthood out of banditry. After the final, when everything calms down to a panic and the feeding frenzy continues, can we look at each other and ask – was the last time a game of football simply a blast to watch, or play? And are the awesome people around us, the beautiful life around us enough, that who won or lost can be celebrated or mourned, and then the really awesome stuff continue? Hope so. Cos’ it’s just a game, in the end.