Bleacher Report - Articles by Ben Raynak

El Clasico: The Derby to End All Others

Ben Raynak — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 08:10:03 -0500

Well here we are again. Another year, and another Spanish Clasico: the clash of the titans, the match that seems to take hold of Europe every year, that captivates football fans across a continent, a spectacle shown in pubs and bars from London to Paris, Moscow to New York City, and everywhere in between.

The last time these two teams meet is etched in history—for one team, one that has been immortalized on posters, postcards and commemorative t-shirts—and for the other, one they’re trying desperately to forget.

May 7^th, 2008. Real Madrid had only clinched their 31^st La Liga title 72 hours before putting Barcelona through the most humiliating of Spanish sporting traditions: forming the pasillo and clapping their most bitter of rivals out of the tunnel before the match.

The contest itself was only salt on the wounds, as Barcelona had to endure a 4-1 thumping in the Santiago Bernabeu: an embarrassing finish to an overall embarrassing season.

Fast Forward to December 13^th: the tables have most definitely turned. New manager Pep Guardiola has led the Blaugrana to 11 wins in their last 12 La Liga matches, with summer signings like Dani Alves, Seydou Keita and Alexander Hleb adding even further depth to a squad that already boasts the signatures of superstars Lionel Messi, Thierry Henry, Xavi, Iniesta, and Samuel Eto’o—the latter netting an astonishing 14 goals before the Christmas break already.

Madrid on the other hand, has not been so fortunate. A squad that looked terrifying at the beginning of the season now looks anemic, unable to get results in the league against minnows Almeria, Getafe, and Valladolid.

Los Merengues midfield, that during the first few weeks looked invincible with the talent of Wesley Sneijder, Rafael Van der Vaart, Arjen Robben and Diarra, is now a shadow of its former self. A season-ending injury to Ruud van Nistelrooy has left Los Blancos without their keystone predator.

Other players currently unavailable to Madrid for this weekend include first-teamers Sneijder, Diarra, Pepe, and Gabriel Heinze, all out through injury, with Robben—Madrid’s shining light in the last few fixtures—out through suspension.

Languishing in fifth place in the table, Real are already being written off by journalists and critics, due to perhaps the most damning development in the last week: the dismissal of former coach and player Bernd Schuster, and the dubious appointment of Tottenham reject Juande Ramos.

Apparently, despite what can only be described as a colossal failure at the North London club, Ramos inherits a Madrid squad that has looked incapable of tying its own boot laces than getting a result against the most feared side in Europe.

However, a strong showing against Zenit St. Petersburg will have boosted the capital club’s confidence before making the cross-country trip to the Camp Nou, Ramos notching his first win in a campaign that he has been charged to salvage.

Ramos also seemed to test out players in a couple of new positions against the Russian club, getting a feel for his new side. Robben was allowed to swing from his favored right side to the left at will, and Marcelo was tried in attack in the second half.

Due to Robben’s pending absence, either Marcelo or Royston Drenthe will most likely be expected to work one flank of the Barca defense, with either van der Vaart or Guti seemingly favored on the other.

Defense will also be a major worry for Madrid, who has given away goals like they were bad stocks so far this season. Cannavaro will be expected to marshal the back line on Saturday alongside Sergio Ramos, and Metzelder and Michel Salgado will probably be called upon as well in order to try to lockdown the 18-yard box against Barca’s simply devastating attack.

Despite Madrid’s apparent weaknesses, the Clasico has never failed to disappoint, and this year will surely be no different, with so much at stake. For Madrid: the ability to regain their momentum going into the second half of the year. For Los Cules, the prospect of effectively burying their rivals to a 12-point deficit.

Either way, every football fan in the world is in for one hell of a confrontation on Saturday.

Manchester United Fans: Stop Crying Over Spilt Milk

Ben Raynak — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 07:56:00 -0400

Message to Manchester United fans: Stop making excuses.

You hate Ronaldo because he is disloyal. You hate him because of his attitude. You hate him because of his want to play for another club. You hate him because his girlfriend wants him to move to Spain.

You hate his hair, his nationality, and by god, your squad will be just as strong with him gone, if not better, good riddance and thank you very much. Rubbish. It’s all utter rubbish, and I’m going to give you 4.1 reasons why.

1. Pride. One of the real reasons United fans are upset is because their pride is hurt. Their best attacking player has stated his wish to play for another foreign club that he regards as bigger, better, and where his playing destiny lies, or whatever. Deal with it.

The fact is, not only Ronaldo, but many, many more people and players regard Real Madrid as a bigger and better club. On paper? Maybe not. Is it the glamour? The history? The culture? Yes. And whether they are right or not, and whether United fans agree or disagree, neither matter.

The reality is, if you took a poll around the world (especially mainland Europe and South America) I guarantee you more players have "dreamed of playing for Real" than Manchester United.

2. Manchester United trained Ronaldo to be the player that he is, and he should show some loyalty. Please. He’s not a youth player, United bought him from Sporting, a major Portuguese club whose players are raided every single year by clubs like United. Do you see them bitching and moaning because their players want to play for a bigger club?

3. Real Madrid have tried to poach Ronaldo by constantly stating their wish to sign him. So? He’s arguably the best player in the world on form, it’s not that surprising. Is it tactful? No. Is it moral? Maybe not. Desperate? Of course, but none of it matters.

It’s not like Madrid just suddenly appeared this year, asking for Cristiano’s signature. Don’t even get me started on that pathetic case sent to FIFA from Alex Ferguson either. If Ronaldo signs for Madrid in part because of their constant public coveting of him, then Madrid won the dirty game.

In the end, tactics don’t matter, and if Manchester can’t hold onto its prize asset because another club constantly states its wish to sign him, United have to look inward and examine why the player doesn’t want to stay in the first place.

4. "It’s fine, United will be just as good if not better with Ronaldo on his way." Don’t sound like downtrodden ex-boyfriend convinced that they will be "just as happy learning to be independent."

The raw facts are, Ronaldo has been a huge part of the United set up, and losing him will set them back. Will they replace him? Probably. Will they be just as good? Right now probably not, in time, of course they will. United will come back just fine, you can count on that. But it’s going to be a gap for the short run. Be honest.

4.1. (Related to 4.) "He’s not that good anyways." Could that argument sound any more juvenile? Of course he’s that good. Best in the world? Who knows, I personally throw my hat in Kaka’s corner for that one. But enough with the slander.

You know how good he is.

I apologize for sounding off a bit like a rant today, but I’m sick and tired of Manchester United and all their fans pointing the finger at everybody but themselves. Yes I am a Madrid fan. No, I don’t want Ronaldo at the club. But I’m just so sick of listening to United fans make excuses, whether he does end up in Spain or not.

So, United fans: enough. Suck it up. Nobody else wants to hear it anymore.

Do the Right Thing: Why Raymond Domenech Deserves the Boot

Ben Raynak — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 04:15:19 -0400

You sort of feel bad for Domenech; I mean, look at him. He looks like a kicked puppy, all droopy-eyed and floppy-like. And he looked like that even before he oversaw one of the worst French tournament campaigns of all time.

There is yet to be found a columnist who hasn’t criticized Domenech for his choices during the run-up to the European Championships, never mind the substitutions and tactical faux-pas’.

However, it seems like the only people who think that he deserves to stick around are the people who are influential in him staying in the first place.

French captain Patrick Vieira and playmaker Franck Ribery have pledged their support to the hapless Domenech. But why? Let’s break down some of Domenech’s genius over the past few months.

First, let’s start with his team selections. The fact that Bakary Sagna was not called up to the national team—replaced instead by the very old, very slow, and very finished Willy Sagnol—was a shock to not only Arsenal fans but to everybody else who gave a damn as well.

This is a perfect example of Domenech’s blind reliance on the old guard of French national players. But that’s exactly what the French side ended being; old.

Lilian Thuram has 35 years on him now. And he’s not Italian. Ergo, he’s just not fit to start for the national side. Case in point: his torrid performances for Barcelona this season. He’s looked old and tired for months, not just during Euro 2008.

And when he reportedly asked Domenech not to play him after the first couple of group stage games (in which he played poorly)… is that an action of a professional player representing their country?

Jeremy Toulalon… my lord, what was Domenech thinking? What do you think Flamini was thinking when he found out that he was being dropped in lieu of a grey-haired half-competent Toulalon?

The ultimate display of idiocy was Domenech’s display during the must-win fixture against Italy. He is 1-0 down and he takes off Nasri—with Ribery injured, one of the only attacking players on the field—for a defender (not just any defender, Jean-Alain "how is this guy ever become a professional" Boumsong).

I mean… that’s the kind of decision that gets you fired. No?

The French Football Federation has said that in two days it will make its decision on the fate of Raymond Domenech. And all I can say is that after watching last month’s theatrics, I have never seen a manager more out to lunch.

FFF president Jean-Pierre Escalettes, I ask you on behalf of any football fan who can’t stand to watch terrible football: just fire the man. For our sake.

Flops and Plops: My Worst XI of Euro 2008

Ben Raynak — Tue, 01 Jul 2008 08:44:47 -0400

After so, so many people have been publishing, distributing, and debating their own excellent "X-ones," I was struck with a devilish, but inspired notion; somebody’s got to do the baddies.

And while I try and curtail my own hyper-critical sarcasm on most journalistic endeavors, well… maybe this is just the opportunity to take a few pot shots. So let’s get right into it.

Goalkeeper: Petr Cech. Sorry all you Blues fans, but even the “best” has a bad tournament (even though I don’t think he’s the best, I’ll indulge all you Chelsea types). His mistakes were poor, and he looked very, very average. Only Greek keeper Nikopolidis might have pipped Cech for this one.

DL: Paulo Ferreira. Yes, you Chelsea people might not like this column—which is exactly why I might enjoy writing it so much. Anyways, in fairness to Paulo, he was being played horribly out of position, but most of the Portuguese back line play was pretty porous, Paulo was the most.

Portugal couldn’t last the entire tournament with Pepe doing everything himself, and they didn’t. But Ferreira looked like the player most eager to get back to Chelsea’s perfume-air conditioned locker room.

DC: Lilian Thuram. You have to feel for the man a little now—just being diagnosed with a heart condition—but now that I consider the fact that he’s a cowardly Barcelona player, I feel for him no longer. The man actually asked Domenech not to play him anymore after the first couple of games—typical from this past year’s Barça team. Poor play and poor attitude.

DC: Eric Abidal. Oh, Barça fans, you can take a seat next to the Chelsea fans right over there. Abidal showed the stellar form that he put on for Barcelona all season in his pathetic penalty kick concession on Luca Toni against Italy. Not only did it result in a goal, he was sent off and robbed the innocent viewing public of one of the potential goals of the tournament. Thanks for that.

DR: Marcell Jansen. Well, he didn’t play much, and that’s for a reason. When he came on in the final, Germany looked worse, played worse and should have conceded three more goals. Poor.

DM: Jeremy Toulalon. Who? Did you see him play? You’re telling me he was on the pitch? Oh…

MC: Tomas Galasek. From a player who has had so much experience in international tournaments, I really expected more from him.

ML: Florent Malouda. Looked about as effective as anger management classes for Wayne Rooney. The whole French team could have been put on this list, but I’m not that cruel. Here’s another one for you Blues.

MR: Cristiano Ronaldo. Everybody knows he played like crap, so I don’t have to say it again. One thing I will say again: I don’t want him at Real Madrid. Yes, there are sensible Madrid fans out there.

FC: Mario Gomes. He had one of the howlers of the tournament, missing (or did he hit the crossbar) against Austria, pretty much booking his reservation on the pinewood.

He didn’t see a start for the rest of the tournament after the group stages. Believed by some to have been kept in an iron cage by Loew as punishment, when he wasn’t expected to be in his substitute’s vest in the dugout.

FC: Luca Toni. No shocks for the worst strike partner of the tournament. Toni missed every chance given to him in the tournament, some difficult touches, others definitely not.

He’s a great player, and scores tons for Bayern Munich.

Not for Italy.

He was shocking.

As Forest Gump says, “and that’s all I’ve got to say about that.”

I hope these suggestions are taken with large grains of salt from all, but at the same time I know many a BR reporter will want to chime in with their two cents, pence, or whatever else you’ve got. Let’s hear it.

Campeones, iOle!: Spain's Winning Ways

Ben Raynak — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 08:34:03 -0400

Spain play the type of football that you want to watch. The game finishes, and you immediately want to find a ball, go outside and play yourself.

Spain hadn’t won an international tournament in 44 years, and hadn’t been in a final for 24 years before Sunday. But, the way that they played, and won, in every single match that they laced up for, is a testament to the sport itself, and the way the game should be played and approached.

I’m going to try and refrain from being repetitive in this article, but it’s hard not to after witnessing one of the most inspiring tournament performances in European history—from a nation of screw-ups no less.

Here are some of my most notable notables from Spain’s dazzling European 2008 campaign.

Marcos Senna was one the most fantastic players of the tournament, holding the midfield in check while protecting the back line with ferocious consistency. I have to say, every time Senna goes into a tackle you’re probably looking at an infraction, but it is a necessary element that has been lacking from a decidedly meek Spanish squad for decades. Pick of the tournament for true all-round football enthusiasts.

Iker Casillas has to be counted as the premier goalkeeper in the world after his performance in this Euro; I’m going to come right out and say it, he’s the best. He was tested once—ONCE—in Spain’s 1-0 win over Germany on Sunday, but even then he was solid. Moment to watch: his flying punch on a dangerous free kick looped into Spain’s box in the second half. Don’t even get me started on the penalties. Magnificent.

A positive collective attitude in both morale and tactical terms pulled Spain towards the finals like a black Andalucian bull. Camaraderie was as high in the Spanish camp as it was unbelievable, considering Spain’s fractured past in football as well as politics.

Difference-making circumstances: Puyol’s decidedly disconnected attitude with all things political (as opposed to his decidedly connected attitude towards his iPod) and the rest of the apathetic Catalan contingent presented in the Spanish camp.

Keep in mind the single Basque representative in Xabi Alonso and a lack of Raul’s unfettered flag-waving "leadership," and you’ve got a Spain squad that actually gets on. And it’s all thanks to…

Luis Aragones. As I’ve already written an article on good old Scrooge, I won’t repeat myself that much. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m going to miss out on the opportunity to say "I told you so."

Aragones might be old, grumpy, stubborn, outspokenly abrasive, generally unpleasant, and even "un poco racista" (just a little racist, as the Spanish admit they are from time to time), but tactically, he is a genius. I suppose after almost 70 years, you’re going to pick something up along the way, and pick it up he did.

All in all, Spain were almost tactically perfect, offensively and defensively dominating, supremely entertaining and universally complete. Every player in the squad even played some time, all except Andres Palop, the third string goalkeeper—bless his soul.

If anything, the brevity of this article is in essence a reflection of how beautiful Spain were in their campaign against the odds: stunning.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got more celebrating to do. Ole.

“iHala Aragones!”: Luis and Spain Silence the Critics

Ben Raynak — Fri, 27 Jun 2008 02:45:38 -0400

As the rain poured down on a dark Thursday night in Vienna, jubilant fans covered in red and gold all over the city and particularly in the stadium, were singing a song that this sports fan would have, two months ago, bet his scarf, flag and strip that he’d never hear in a million years.

“La la la la laaa, Hala Aragones!”

The familiar Spanish and particularly Madridista cheer was heard shaking the rafters of the Ernst Happel stadium after Spain’s convincing 3-0 win, with a slight twist at the end, paying tribute to "el Sabio" who has delivered them from tournament purgatory and into the European Championship Finals.

The limerick was not the only chant that was familiar to my Real ears. Many of the songs sung in the rain during the semifinals were also popular ones usually sung at the Santiago Bernabeau as well as a couple I recognized from other clubs around the Iberian peninsula; yet another telling sign that the footballing nation might just be coming together for something special.

The match between the two sides started off reserved, both Russia and Spain sitting back on their heels, waiting for the other side to flinch for a few minutes. The match did not evolve into the feast of attacking football that most critics expected until the second half of play.

The tactical approach from the “magician” Guus Hiddink seemed to be to frustrate the Spanish by closing the door for the first half, and almost hiding Arshavin away on the left side of midfield.

One wonders when Arshavin was supposed to be unleashed on the rickety Spanish defense, but it just didn’t seem to be the little playmaker’s day.

Speaking of that weak defense that has plagued the Armada all tournament, Scrooge seems to have made it a little more airtight, due mostly to the strong play from Ramos (finally) and Puyol. Both players were comprehensively closing down every Russian attack almost with ease (Luis the Scrooge must have really given Ramos the belt in training these past couple of days).

Add into the equation Marcos Senna rampaging back from midfield with a vengeance, and it was always going to be a long night for the Russians.

Moving up the field, the Spanish midfield only seemed to get better as the game wore on. Russia’s tactics of allowing the Spanish to sit on the ball worked in the first half of play, but it’s a dangerous game to play with a side brimming with such talent.

When David Villa sat down on the pitch towards the end of the first half looking positively ill with pain and grief, Russian faces were beginning to show a glimmer of optimism at their good fortune. That was until "Cesquito" Fabregas tore off his substitute vest and joined the fray.

The smiles quickly vanished.

Cesc, Iniesta, and Xavi then went about their business of absolutely terrorizing the Russian defense.

Almost as soon as the second half started, the Spanish midfield was slicing the poor Russian back four to pieces, until it finally came in the 50th minute, with Xavi showing superb reactions and talent to tip a shot-come-pass from Iniesta into the Russian net.

With Fernando Torres looking like he’d never seen a chance at goal or a ball to his feet in his entire life, on came Güiza to add a different element to the attack; it paid dividends in the 73rd minute, when Cesc played an outrageous flick over the entire Russian back line, and the assassin from Mallorca lifted the ball over the helpless Akinfeev.

Spain finished Russia off nine minutes later with an overpowering counter finished off by David Silva.

Any team that is able to bring Fabregas off the bench, as well as Spain’s leading scorer in Daniel Güiza, is a side with just too much depth to be written off. Spain has played every kind of football in this tournament, and they’ve done it with grace.

They’ve shown attacking prowess against Russia—twice. They’ve shown resilience against Sweden, and ground out a war of attrition against the current world champions Italy.

Even their subs played an entire game, and still beat the former European champions, Greece. They have looked the most convincing side in the tournament, all the while being doubted and expected to crash out or fail at every turn.

Their goalkeeper is almost perfect, their defense vastly experienced and improving with every match. Their midfield is probably the most dangerous in the tournament (perhaps the world, judging on form alone) along with Marcos Senna adding bone-crunching strength and courage.

And their forwards: well, Torres and Villa. Need I say more?

One setback is Villa’s apparent thigh injury, and his absence in the final that Aragones has confirmed. However, after watching the terrifying force that is Fabregas, Xavi, and Iniesta playing together, it can only be said that his absence, while unfortunate, just changes the Spanish side instead of crippling it.

Pick your poison: death by forwards, or midfielders?

To be sure, the Germans, undoubtedly watching the semifinal yesterday with sausages in mouths, will have noticed that not only did Spain not even flinch when Villa was brought off, but looked to get even stronger. Especially after the half, when "el Sabio" had the time to instill his new set of tactics and players.

No question, the impending final is due to be a cracker between the world’s most tested tournament team, nicknamed "la Maquina" (the Machine) by the Spanish press, and the world’s most in-form team, with Spain unbeaten in 21 games.

Discipline versus inspiration, a reputation to be defended, and one to be created.

For the neutrals, it’s a match to be remembered, even before the first kick.

But for Spanish fans who have worn their hearts on their sleeves for the entire tournament, it’s a chance they might not get for another twenty years; the chance to be redeemed, proven, and hoisted into their rightful place among the world’s top footballing nations.

Luis Aragones: Stubborn Old Mule or Brilliant Wise Man?

Ben Raynak — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 10:02:26 -0400

If one were to watch coverage of the Spanish national side’s preparation training in these last couple of days before their Thursday encounter with Russia in the semi finals and saw Luis Aragones teetering around the practice pitch, one would be likely to point to the screen and gasp, “My lord, an elderly gentleman has become lost and has wandered straight out onto the ground… how sad.”

By equal measure, if one were to say that to Aragones’ face, that person would get a swift punch in the mouth—and don’t think the old boy couldn’t do it.

Referred to as "Scrooge," "un hombrecito" (a self-righteous crotchety old man) and "un maleducado" (an uneducated peasant) he has been one of the most despised national managers in recent memory, making principled, unpopular decisions, being notoriously unpleasant—personally and towards the media—and stubborn as Don Quixote’s mule.

And now, after Spain’s much-celebrated quarter final win over Italy, Aragones’ alternate nickname "el Sabio de Hortaleza" (the wise man from Hortaleza, his home town) has been inked all over Spanish newspapers, Catalan and Madrileno alike.

And the reason is almost identical to why he was so hated before: because he’s a stubborn old bastard.

Aragones has refused to give into public pressure since taking on the mantle, being the only manager in the past decade to make the almost unholy decision to remove Raul from "la Seleccion."

Aragones received hate mail, threats, public slander and was railed in the Spanish press—particularly from Marca, the notoriously pro-Madrid mouthpiece publication. But he never gave in, and it has proved to be a stroke of genius.

What many don’t understand about Spanish football is that it is much like its politics—splintered and almost impossible to control when placed in one room, or a football pitch. And although Raul is indeed a great leader, he never actually did very much to "bring players together"—in fact, he had very much the opposite effect.

Raul’s unbridled "Madridista" sentiments never sat well with the likes of "Tarzan" Puyol, Iniesta or Xavi, nor with the Basques in the side. And even though he had a blazing season for Real this year, his absence might just be part of the change in attitude of the Spaniards.

Players are happy, training well, and even though there are still the bust-ups (Ramos and Scrooge went at it not but a couple of days ago) the team chemistry is visibly better from campaigns passed.

And for this next fixture against Russia, Aragones announced today that he is making no changes to the squad that has brought him this far already—despite the relatively poor play of Iniesta against Italy, and Cesc Fabregas ready to tear off his substitute vest if Scrooge even sneezes in his general direction.

Santi Cazorla also impressed in the past few games, and with David Silva apparently incapable of actually putting a shot on the frame of the goal, perhaps "Santito" would get the nod.

El Sabio says “No.” Old people do like their routines don’t they…

Call him consistent if “hard-headed, stubborn old grey-hair” sounds too undiplomatic. But win after win, Luis is getting it done on and off the pitch, with Spain now on a winning streak of 19 games.

Tactically, Aragones isn’t changing a thing, but his biggest fear is looming on Thursday: not Hiddink’s genius, not Arshavin’s brilliance, but Spain having to wear the dreaded yellow shirt in the upcoming semi final.

When the LFP revealed Spain’s golden away strip a few months ago (yellow usually reserved for the national team’s third jersey), a low “joder” (damn) must have been uttered from every Spanish mouth from Mallorca to La Coruna, Aragones’ the loudest of them all.

Scrooge’s aversion to Spain’s kryptonite color is well-known, after refusing to take a bouquet of yellow flowers upon arriving in Germany for the 2006 World Cup, and once screaming at Raul when he showed up at the Spanish training camp with a yellow garment, yelling “Quitatela, quitatela!” (Take it off, take it off!) over and over.

But whatever the wardrobe, the game is going to be a feast of attacking football, with both teams brilliant and quick, slicing strikes into the opposition’s box and neither possessing a particularly impressive rear guard.

Don’t expect any great surprises from Spain’s almost 70-year-old manager, but maybe he’s just the stubborn old mule that the Armada will ride to glory.

Iker Casillas Proves His Point on Penalties: Is He the Best of Them All?

Ben Raynak — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 13:12:26 -0400

They make an odd couple, the young, athletic Iker Casillas and Luis Aragones, who can only be described these days as geriatric (sorry, but it’s true).

But still, there they were on Spanish television as Sr. Zapatero, the Prime Minister of Spain, publicly congratulated them both on their victory against Italy, as well as good luck against upcoming opponents, Russia.

The game that preceded the comical but pleasant interview was one that involved two heavy-hitters of world football: Italy—perennial favorite and current reigning world champion, and Spain—perennial failure and trophy-less since 1964.

The quality on show was superb, even taking into account Italy’s depleted side (missing Andrea Pirlo and Gattuso through suspension) and turned out to be a real showcase of tactical football. The defensive shapes of both teams were excellent.

Italy closed down every passing lane from Vienna all the way back to Rome, while Spain contained Italy to the only attacking course of action available, which was looping the ball forward to a hopeless Luca Toni, showing nothing of the goal-glutton that we had watched tear German nets to bits only months before.

But it’s the talent that sat between the sticks for both sides that ended up being the difference in the result.

The match-up pitted two keepers against each other who have spent the past year being part and parcel of every “which keeper is the best in the world” argument you and your mates have had sitting around the pub, living room, or wherever you discuss football.

Those who watch La Liga swear that Iker Casillas is inhuman and capable of stopping a bullet with a pair of castanets, while Gianluigi Buffon has been rumored to be able to make a ball change direction with only the power of his mind (the latter of which I’m not so sure is false as David Silva had three shots in the match that missed the frame by inches, the last of which was so close it’s hard to believe Buffon doesn’t have some hoo-doo working for him).

The two keepers have played before of course, most recently with Juventus showing Real Madrid the door on two separate occasions in the Champions League not that far back. But this was in the Euros, and if only they would go to penalty kicks...

But before we get to that, the game-saving stop Iker made to deny Mauro Camoranesi is a perfect example of who Casillas is as a goalkeeper: he is the product of chaos theory, where out of the strangest and weird decisions that he is apt to make, he then turns around and makes a save that leaves your jaw hanging somewhere down around your clavicle.

Yes, he is unreliable on crosses, comes out of the box a little quick, and sometimes makes the odd save look a bit more difficult than it is. But when you need a ball to not go in the net, there is nobody on the planet that you can honestly say will stop it from happening more often than Iker Casillas.

In this passed La Liga season, Iker won the Zamora trophy, basically the “most valuable goalie” award in Spain.

The fact that he won it with Madrid, the run-away champs of the year two years going is not too surprising, but it’s the way that he did it that needs to be recognized.

Real Madrid were the most shot-on team in La Liga, their net being peppered more times than any other team. That being said, they conceded the fewest amount of goals in the league for the season as well.

Combine those two statistics with the fact that Casillas had the most saves on record and the fewest allowed goals of any other regular keeper in the league, and you’ve got a goalie who is either using two giant tennis rackets while nobody’s looking, or is truly an undeniable championship-winning element of the team. And then there are the penalties.

As a Madrid fan my entire life, I’ve watched Iker stop countless penalties and make spectacular saves that defy description. So when I saw the Spain game go to penalties, I have to say, I was less worried for the Spaniards than I would be if any other keeper was sitting between the sticks.

Yes, Buffon is an excellent number one. But if you watch a player week in and week out for years, place trust in him, watch him save your beloved team’s neck time and time again, day in and day out, it’s a faith that you have that cannot be broken.

There’s a reason that they call him “San Iker” (Saint Iker).

So when I saw him deny Daniele De Rossi and Antonio Di Natale, I have to say, I wasn’t surprised. It is indeed like having faith in a saint, and yesterday it all came together.

Spain beat Italy for many reasons, but the biggest one is the goalie who often gets overlooked when the Buffon’s and the Cech’s get thrown into the debate of who would wear the number one shirt on your fantasy team.

And after Casillas came out on top in the shootout, and Cech’s poor season, give me San Iker any day.