Whoever Plays the Germans

The final whistle blew and I found myself trying to parse complex feelings.

I’ve gone on record saying I always root for whoever’s currently playing the Germans. And I hold to that—excepting of course when they’re playing Portugal, or need to beat someone in order to oust Portugal (as a “neutral,” I can be fickle). But I always enjoy watching the Germans play. They have been, and continue to be, a remarkable team.

So, though technically according to my “rules,” I was a Brazil fan yesterday, I was actually looking forward to seeing Germany win. I fully expected they would. Brazil had showed its cracks, and without two key players, I expected Germany to exploit those cracks.

But watching yesterday’s match was like watching a street beating. I wanted to look away, to cry out to the Germans to stop inflicting pain.

The final whistle blew. A mercy. It was over.  And, as they so often have, Germany had sent another team packing.

It was the right result for that match. Brazil fell apart. It was the right result based upon the play of each team during this tournament.  But it was so hard to watch. Could I say I was “glad” to see Germany win? No. Could I say Brazil “deserved” to lose? No. It was more complicated than that.

And then I watched the Brazilian players weeping. And my heart was torn for them.

But then I saw what may have been the most provocative images of this tournament so far: Joachim Löw walking up to Luis Felipe Scolari and putting a hand on his arm. Miroslav Klose moving past a group of Brazil players comforting each other as they cried, on his way to join the German players who were rightfully celebrating their win—and stopping, reaching a hand in to the group to squeeze the shoulder of a weeping man.

He wasn’t the only one.

I mentioned the behavior to my mom in a text a little while later. I said it had impressed me. She wrote back with one word: “Grace.”

Yes. Grace. The wild celebrations are fun. The winners are victorious. But when you see something like yesterday’s game, your heart is crying for a little grace. And the German players and coach offered it. And for that I commend them.

I’ve still got complicated feelings going into the final matches of this World Cup. I want to see the Netherlands finally get a trophy. I want to see Messi’s skill matched with the accolades he deserves (though I’m not certain his current team does). And when the final comes along, I’ll be cheering for whoever plays the Germans.

But I won’t forget their grace.