事后诸葛亮谁都会，这篇文章值得一看。

几个简单要点：

为何斯科拉里在上半场连续输5球时没有换人或者采取什么措施？他承认在短短几分钟内他脑袋空白了，和其他队员一样。

为何没有队员找借口倒下暂停比赛而让其他队员从震惊中恢复过来？

巴西队员在现场观众的压力下慌乱了，德国队在开场几分钟后就感觉到。

此外德国队今天的状态不是偶然的，他们在2000年欧冠赛打败后全国各俱乐部被指示增加对年轻队员的训练。同样地今天欧洲其他国家如西班牙等的足球运动在现代化的计划中成长，而巴西足球还停留在个人脱贫致富的层面上。

http://www.slate.com/articles/sports/sports_nut/2014/07/brazil_germany_2014_world_cup_the_brazilians_thought_magical_thinking_would.html

Why Brazil Lost

Rather than make a real plan, they abandoned themselves to romantic notions of passion and desire.

By Ken Early

BELO HORIZONTE, Brazil—Most people are terrible singers, and yet football crowds are good at picking out a tune. Crowds are often flat on the high notes and tend to rush the tempo, but generally the combination of thousands of wrongs adds up to one big right.

The Brazilian national anthem last night was different. All around the Mineirão people stood and roared it so loud that their eyes bulged. The words resounded with startling clarity but much too loudly for any music to be heard.

Down on the field David Luiz and Júlio César were holding aloft the shirt of Neymar like a holy relic. The camera picked out a woman holding a placard that read, “Don’t worry—Neymar’s soul is here!” It was as though Neymar had died and was looking down at his former teammates from heaven, rather than watching them on television.

The collective emotional frenzy of the scene was awe-inspiring. For a moment every Brazilian, and many neutrals, succumbed to the same seductive illusion. What force could stand against the combined passion of these 11 Brazilian warriors, the soul of Neymar, the heart of Thiago Silva, and 200 million supporters?

On the field, the men in red and black stood and watched and let the noise wash over them. They too had lost an important teammate to injury, but it would never have occurred to them to create a cult of the fallen Marco Reus. They knew that most of the forces arrayed against them were imaginary. To the Germans, this was a simple matter of 11 against 11.

* * *

Germany’s first blow struck Brazil at their strongest point.

Neymar has been the corporate face of Brazil’s campaign but on the field David Luiz has been the true star, a rampaging, inspirational, all-action superhero. Luiz’s big hair makes him the most obvious player on the pitch, so that his feats of athleticism and bravery never go unnoticed.

He is such an easy player for spectators to pick out that although the penalty area was crowded, everybody could see that it was David Luiz who had arrived too late to stop Thomas Müller from volleying Germany into the lead off a corner in the 11th minute.

Having toppled Brazil’s totem, Germany unveiled their most frightening weapon: telepathy.

The second goal arrived on 23 minutes and the way Germany scored it told Brazil that the game was up.

Fernandinho is a midfield monster for Manchester City, a relentless destroyer who routinely dominates Premier League opponents with his power and tenacity. Twice Fernandinho tried to tackle Toni Kroos, only to bounce off the German midfielder like a bee off a windowpane. Kroos serenely played a gentle pass through the Brazilian line into the path of Müller, who was streaking in from the right. Brazil’s defense reacted to the run of Müller, but not to that of Miroslav Klose in the opposite direction. Müller’s lay-off to Klose wrong-footed the stumbling defenders, affording Klose enough time for not one, but two unopposed shots at the Brazilian goal. As the second shot rolled past the helpless Júlio César, Klose became the top scorer in World Cup history.

At 2–0 Brazil knew they were probably going to lose, but the really scary thing about that goal was the multidimensional coordination of Germany’s movement. The understanding between Kroos, Müller, and Klose had been as smooth and apparently effortless as though they were executing a pre-planned move on a set piece. How could Brazil compete with the sophistication of this team, who attacked from several directions at once, who somehow seemed to know what was going to happen a second and a half before Brazil did?

Brazil’s system was already beginning to short-circuit. Two minutes later, Philipp Lahm aimed a cross toward Müller, and the ball broke to Kroos, who smashed a glorious left-footer past César without breaking stride. The Bayern player celebrated quietly, looking almost embarrassed.

Germany’s next two goals proceeded with the inevitability of a checkmate foreseen several moves in advance. First Kroos pounced on Fernandinho and bulldozed him out of the way, played a one-two with Sami Khedira that smoothly outmaneuvered the wreckage of Brazil’s defense, and scored again.

In the next passage of play David Luiz threw himself forward with desperation, but Mats Hummels beat him to the ball. Hummels’ pass found Khedira, who coolly turned Dante before swapping passes with Mesut Özil and burying the fifth. Germany was like a 10-year-old playing PlayStation against his grandfather.

Barring the few thousand overjoyed Germans there was an atmosphere of stunned, disbelieving horror in that stadium that has possibly never before been experienced in sport. It was as though Germany had gathered 60,000 4-year-olds together and briskly announced that there is no such thing as Santa Claus.

There is no mercy rule in football but at that moment you dearly hoped that Germany would throttle back. The emotional deceleration was too brutal for the host country to handle. It was as though the seven years since Brazil won the right to host the World Cup had been an elaborate joke leading up to this six-minute punchline.

At half time the German players congratulated each other as though the match was already over, which, of course, it was.

* * *

By that point, everyone present already knew that they were watching the most incredible result in the history of the World Cup. How can you explain such a collapse?

The only major match of recent years that could compare in any fashion was the 2005 Champions League final, when Liverpool scored three goals in six minutes to recover from 3–0 down against Milan, then won the game on penalties.

The coach of Milan that night, Carlo Ancelotti, wrote in his autobiography that people often ask him what was going through his mind during those minutes.

“The answer is simple: nothing. Zero. My brain was a perfect vacuum, the vacuum of deep space.” It was only during extra time that “my brain began functioning again, and I managed to put together a complete and coherent thought: ‘This is starting to look bad.’ ”

After Tuesday’s match, a Brazilian journalist asked Brazil’s coach, Luiz Felipe Scolari, why he had not made tactical changes during that crazy six-minute spell when Germany ran in four goals. Scolari cut him off mid-sentence.

“Let me explain something to you, then you can continue your question. When were the goals scored? 23, 24, 25, 26, 28 minutes? In such a space of time, nobody is going to change anything. It was one after the other. I think everyone blanked out. We were trying to talk to them, to get organized, to stop the goals going in, but it was a spell of pressure when everything worked out for Germany. There was nothing we could do to change it at that point.”

But there were things they could have done to change it. The most obvious solution would have been for one of their players to throw himself to the ground and feign injury for as long as it took for his teammates to get their breath back.

That even an idea this obvious did not occur to Brazil tells you that all their fuses were blown.

It’s tempting to link those blown fuses with the spike of emotional electricity with which Brazil had started the match. Outmatched by coolly masterful opponents, suddenly aware of the appalling abyss that separated the expectations of their people and their own ability to deliver, Brazil gave in to blind panic.

Later, the Germans confirmed that they had sensed the initial Brazilian frenzy masked deep underlying doubts.

“From minute one we had the impression something big was possible,” Kroos said. “We realized that the Brazilians were a bit upset, they were not so clear in their actions. We took advantage of the possibilities and scored one goal after another.”

“It was important to counter their passion and emotions with calmness, patience, and persistence, also with courage and belief in our own strength,” German manager Joachim Löw said. “You realized after the 2–0 that they were confused, that they never recovered their original organization. We were extremely cool and took our chances. We realized they were cracking up and took advantage of it.”

It was emotional judo. Germany reflected the energy of Brazil’s crowd back against their players. They took the lead, then watched the Brazilians melt down in the white heat of their own disgrace.

* * *

Afterward, Löw tried to empathize.

“I remember when we lost against Italy,” he said, referring to the 2006 World Cup semifinal, when host nation Germany went down to two late goals from Fabio Grosso and Alessandro del Piero. “A World Cup in your own country, everyone wants you to go to the final. In the 119th minute we lost the match. We know how Scolari feels, we know how the Brazilian team feels, and we know how the people in Brazil feel now.”

Do they really?

Consider Philipp Lahm’s description of that Italy defeat.

“There is nothing worse than having to remain on the field after losing such an important game,” Lahm wrote in his autobiography. “There is such sadness, such inner coldness, at the consciousness that you will very seldom get an opportunity like this in your life, and now you’ve messed it up. A few moments earlier you were part of a team, you were a piece in a bigger puzzle, but now you’re all alone, and all you want is to go into your shell, to get into the dressing room and stare at the floor until the pain subsides. ... In that dressing room, there was deathly silence.”

The Germans had to go to Stuttgart for a match none of them wanted to play, the third-place playoff against Portugal. When they landed at the airport it was pouring rain. The bus that picked them up got stuck in a traffic jam. The players were irritated. What’s the holdup?

The main train station is closed, the bus driver said.

“For fuck’s sake,” the players grumbled. “What’s going on?”

Lahm writes:


You wonder how the aftermath of what is already being called the Mineirazo—an echo of the Seleção’s 1950 disaster in the World Cup final against Uruguay—will play out in the Brazilian players’ cash-in autobiographies.

At 5–0 on the 30-minute mark, it briefly looked like we would soon be watching the first World Cup semifinal to be played in an almost empty stadium. Hundreds of Brazilian fans could be seen making their way up the corridors to the exits.

But the initial rush subsided. Most of the Brazil fans would remain until the end. They had a few things they wanted to get off their chests.
For the first time since the opening match against Croatia in São Paulo, the crowd began to chant against the president, Dilma Rousseff. “Hey! Dilma! Vai tomar no cu!”

Then Fred, the center-forward who once played for this stadium’s home team, Cruzeiro, took a shot from 20 yards that rolled weakly toward the German goal.

The fans behind the goal exploded. The Dilma chant was quickly retooled. “Hey! Fred! Vai tomar no cu!”

From that point Fred was the target of ceaseless, savage abuse. Even after he had been substituted in the aftermath of the team’s 6–0 deficit, the crowd jeered his face appearing on the big screen.

After the 6–0, the Brazilian fans began to cheer the German passes: Ole! Ole! The tone had an unmistakable edge of malice. This had nothing to do with any sportsmanlike desire to acclaim great German play. This was about shaming the losers in the yellow shirts.

The 7–0 was celebrated by large sections of the home fans, for the same reason.

At full-time the Brazilian players gathered in the center circle, the point on the pitch furthest away from the crowd. The players seemed to confer, then turned to the fans behind one of the goals and raised their hands in tentative applause.

The supporters erupted in furious derision, hurling the players’ olive branch back in their faces with pitiless rage. There would be no mercy, no forgiveness. The message was simple: GET OUT OF OUR SIGHT.

* * *

If Löw really wanted to empathize with Brazil he should have chosen a different moment in Germany’s football history.

It didn’t involve humiliation in a home World Cup semifinal. It was the more prosaic failure of Euro 2000, when Germany lost two out of three matches and finished bottom of its group, that changed the future of German football.

Maybe two defeats in three doesn’t sound that bad, but for Germany it was truly shameful. Euro 2000 was perhaps the best ever edition of the European Championships and Germany, the dominant country in the continent’s football, had sent the worst team.

Rather than write it off under the heading of “these things happen,” the Germans decided to act. Clubs in the first and second division were told they had to set up standardized youth academies as part of a broad reorganization of the national football structure. The idea was to make sure that the next generation of German players would be better than the last.

Year by year, the new generations of German footballers were equipped with the technical and cognitive tools that we saw dismantling Brazil at the Mineirão. The coordinated movement that looked like some uncanny telepathy is really just coaching. Over the last five tournaments Germany have reached a semifinal, a final, a semifinal, a semifinal, and now another final, after what might be the World Cup’s greatest ever victory. Germany’s plan is working.

Of course, Germany is the spiritual home of planning in a way that Brazil will never be. But something in Brazil has to change, or the future of the national team—still the proudest institution in a country that doesn’t take pride in many of its institutions—looks bleak.

Historically, Brazil has produced outstanding footballers with the same seeming effortlessness with which it produces mangoes. The Brazilian football industry has been shaped by this plenty to resemble the country’s other exploitative, extractive industries. Footballers are another commodity to be exported. It’s a strictly materialistic system, in which the only guiding principle is success.

This has been how Brazilian football has worked over the decades as it has gradually ceded its vibrant former identity. It didn’t matter that Brazilian football gradually ceased to be loved around the world. Nobody cared that the beautiful game had been overtaken by a hollow cult of victory. The enduring success of the national team covered the flaws. At any given time, Brazil could count on several of the best players in the world, and that was usually enough.

It’s not enough anymore. Brazil’s players are no longer technically any better than the best Europeans. Now the top European countries, led by Spain and followed by Germany, have introduced the super-organization of top-level club football into the international game. In a future where big international teams move with the same complex sophistication as the best club sides, ad hoc collections of talent like the Brazilian national team will struggle to compete.

In hindsight we can see that Brazil knew what they wanted from this World Cup but neglected to figure out how they were going to get it.

Four years ago, they appointed Mano Menezes with a brief to build a team for the World Cup. They lost confidence in Menezes halfway through that process and turned back to Scolari, yesterday’s man.

Rather than make a real plan, they abandoned themselves to romantic notions of passion, desire, and native cunning. They hoped that if they screwed their eyes shut and wanted it enough they would prevail. Through a collective effort of will they almost managed to transform forlorn hope into real belief.

On Tuesday night, the land of magical thinking received a bracing communiqué from the reality-based community in the form of seven German goals. A fevered dream isn’t enough. You need a vision.

Brazil should forgive its players. The decay of the national team is not their fault. They were just the men given the impossible job of defending a reputation it wasn’t in their power to defend. The German crowd’s generosity to its team in 2006 inspired those players to return with renewed zeal for the cause.

Scolari was right when he said after the match that some of these players can still carry the colors of Brazilian football into the next World Cup.

But first Brazil needs to rediscover what those colors are supposed to stand for.

Ken Early works for the Second Captains podcast and the Irish Times. Follow him on ※※※※※※※.

类似于94邓加，98德尚的强度吧

在巴萨和梅西就天天磨练，所以到了国家队这个中轴很管用

那个球明明是德国后卫保送的好不好
以下内容由 无齿 于 2014-7-10 19:57 补充
下半场德国主力队员根本就没怎么进攻
巴西打了一阵以后给了2个射门当警告，替补前锋上场后刷了2个进球就咬耳朵告诉他别再进球了，再后来明明挑射就能轻松进球的单刀在犹豫之后选择了打向守门员，最后更是后卫放弃防守任由巴西射门结果打飞之后干脆保送奥斯卡一个进球

对，没队长没※※，那个戴首袖标的偏偏是个冒失鬼；阿根廷就胜在有小马哥

《卫报》技术性文章:巴西1比7负于德国真真切切是一场实力悬殊才导致的惨败
http://bbs.hupu.com/9914442.html

原文标题：Brazil have no answer to might of Toni Kroos’s control for Germany
原文地址：http://www.theguardian.com/football/blog/2014/jul/08/brazil-germany-world-cup-toni-kroos

[翻译团]克罗斯领衔中场，桑巴军无计可施

本是一场巴西体格与德国技术的对抗，结果却是德国在两方面都完胜对手

有时候，一两个运气球，几次受迫时候的反击，或者一张红牌导致的实力均衡被打破，都会造成一支球队统治比赛的假象。

但是周二晚上巴西队的溃败，实在是毫无征兆，无力辩解，却又不可否认。

现代足球中产生7-1的比分真是太不可思议的事情，但是如果要找一场“真正的”7-1惨败，昨晚这场比赛就是最好的例子。它将在足球史上写下重重的一笔，不仅仅因为这是一场世界杯的半决赛，更重要的是，这真真切切是一场实力悬殊导致的惨败。

巴西在半小时内就0-5落后，第一次危机甚至在开场5分钟的时候就出现了。最初的问题源于巴西的左后场，前几场比赛中表现稳定的马塞洛放弃了稳扎稳打的策略，转而在边路疾飞猛进，一味求攻。拖后的后腰古斯塔沃不得不时常回到防线上填补他留下的空档。

这样的计划很快就失效了。克洛泽背对球门拿球，托马斯-穆勒迅速切入马塞洛身后的巨大空档，但克洛泽没有发现这条传球线路，穆勒因为错过了开场阶段的黄金进球机会而朝克洛泽怒吼。但事实是，这并没有困扰穆勒很久，在这场本应该是势均力敌的比赛中，他获得了大把的机会。

巴西队，特别是马塞洛，并没有吸取教训。5分钟后，浩克在德国队半场回传，马塞洛一个奇怪的花哨动作没有停好球，赫迪拉和克罗斯迅速在右路突破，马塞洛不得不快速回追，将球破坏出底线（这导致了穆勒的第一个进球）。他举手向队友示意自己失误，可谁曾想到，20分钟后，德国队取得了5-0的领先，马塞洛的失误更是层出不穷。

[b[德国队所有的进球都来源于马塞洛镇守的左路。[/b]第二粒进球由穆勒和拉姆从左侧肋部发动，穆勒带球内切，和克洛泽打了一个交叉，骗过马塞洛，顺利得分。第三球，厄齐尔游弋到右路直传拉姆，后者横敲给克罗斯进球。这个球和后来由替补上场的许尔勒打入的德国队本场第六球十分相似。公平来说，马塞洛在这一侧的防守没有得到任何来自中场球员的支持，整支巴西队的进攻球员都没有对防守做出贡献，而马塞洛在这样的情况下，表现出奇得差。后防线上的队友鲁伊斯也好不到哪里去。

与快速反击同样出色，德国队总能使巴西队的传球消于无形。如果说德国队的高位防守和诺伊尔的大范围出击，在与阿尔及利亚的比赛中还表现得有些危险的话，本场比赛，面对老迈的弗泪德，这样的防守体现了非常好的效果。全场比赛弗雷德碌碌无为，没有为防守不力的队友带来任何帮助。

德国队的中场保持着对对手的压迫：克罗斯贴近费尔南迪尼奥，赫迪拉重点照顾古斯塔沃。德国队的第四球是很好的体现。克罗斯抢断费尔南迪尼奥，与赫迪拉二过一后，形成了射门得分。之后，德国队又轻松地由赫迪拉攻入第五球。托尼-克罗斯和萨米-赫迪拉压制住费尔南迪尼奥和古斯塔沃，穆勒和拉姆趁势侵入巴西空虚的左路后场。

巴西队唯一的进攻手段就是绕过被德国人蹂躏得体无完肤的中场，由大卫-鲁伊斯从后场打长传。这使得奥斯卡的跑位很尴尬，他试图钻到施魏因施泰格的防线之后，却发现还是拿不到球。

赛前，本场比赛被视为一场强强碰撞。巴西队身体强壮，在此之前淘汰了由天才10号哈梅斯-罗德里格斯率领的哥伦比亚队。而德国队，技术出色，富有创造力和耐心。胜负与否，取决于临场发挥。

但事实却并非如此。德国队不仅仅在技术上占优，身体对抗上也保持压制。犀利的反击加上不间断的前场压迫，完全摧毁了东道主。德国队可以说在任何一方面都胜过巴西，心理上更是如此。如此早的失球，使巴西不得不在压力下踢球，并最终被羞辱。

托尼-克罗斯是本场比赛德国队高光表现的杰出代表。他是典型的全能型中场，充满创造力。不仅能向两肋分球，还能送出精确的直传。与传统的5尺7寸小个子创造型中场不同，他身高6尺，毫不缺乏力量，既能参与对抗，又能秀出华丽脚法。

克鲁伊夫评价克罗斯时说到：“克罗斯是个无与伦比的球员。他每样事情都做得很出色，不论是对场面的把控，还是对传球的把握。他已经近乎完美了。”德国队本场比赛的表现也近乎完美，唯一的遗憾就是让奥斯卡在终场前攻入了挽回面子的一球。

米吐。从来就没喜欢过德国队，11头骡子像编好了程序一样，从开头跑到结束，不减速也不喘气。

有个卡卡或者小罗就不一样了，上老将不是指望他们的状态，而是经验。

德国队前场攻击点太多了，防不胜防，赢球是大概率事件。

德国人进攻和跑位非常理性，像机器人一样，边线或者底线传中后进球概率非常高。

但是本人不喜欢看这样踢球

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去年，瑞典在0：4落后德国的情况下，连进4球，扳平了比分。这是我印象中，德国队唯一一次在大比分领先情况下被追平，翻盘好像还真没有听说过
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斯科拉里准备的预案不够，没有告诉队员在遭遇各种意外情况下如何应对。
我们在比赛中也遇到过。前年和宿敌的比赛中，上半场0：0，下半场一开始，我们就压着对手打，还有三十分钟的时候，2：0领先，场面也是我们占优，教练要求我们继续猛攻，似乎进第三个球只是时间问题。两个单位的领导和啦啦队都以为大局已定，开始陆续退场。对方连续换了三个人，过了几分钟，我们跑不过对手了，教练准备换人，却发现原定的两个替补中途溜出去喝了顿酒，满身酒气地坐在场边吹牛皮，其他队员平时就没来训练过几次，只能靠场上的队员坚持。十分钟内，被两个定位球和两次反击翻盘。队员被踢懵了，最后十分钟，俩前锋还把对手白送的两个点球踢飞。真是兵败如山倒，我冲上去扇队友耳光，他们脸上都是一脸的茫然
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有自知之明，才知道四平八稳的踢肯定没戏，只能寄希望偷一个
但是自己太不争气，丢球太早，全乱了

斯科拉里自不量力，活该

上一届的英格兰其实做到连扳两球了，只不过被冤了。
但这一届巴西的水平，即使稳住阵脚咬紧牙关了，也就能扑腾下半场刚开场那十分钟，把握机会能力还不行，还是白搭。主场打的保守被德国进上两三个，一样要被骂的很惨，还不如放手一搏，万一能偷一个呢。
所以怎么做都无能为力了，除非运气确实好，真偷了一个

战术失败，计划是抢开局，争取前十分钟进一个，然后龟缩摆大巴，谁知立足未稳被人家定位球得手，然后突然大家不知道是变阵先稳住还是继续施压攻上去最短时间扳回来，结果在这犹豫之际，又被进了一个，这可了不得，德国队很难被翻盘的，接下来一团糟，被突突到5个，才缓过神了

没错，对德国输两个球比赛就结束了，就得认命止损了。

丢第二个球，就该果断换人，局面和气场都不对了。

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