
It was probably fitting that, in the city where Messrs Duckworth and Lewis earned their living as professors, the Champions League final was decided through football’s closest approximation of their infamous cricket system. A penalty shootout, like a match decided by D/L, lies largely in the hands of fate. Chance and probability play a greater role than actual ability and, though yesterday’s result was fair in terms of who played better through 120 minutes, the system usually offers no such guarantees (though it must be true that two teams who can’t be seperated by a goal after 120 minutes don’t have much different between them).
There’s a world of difference between a one-off penalty kick during the course of open play and a shootout. The penalty kick is hand-to-hand combat, keeper and taker, no prisoners taken. Both depend on instinct; the goalkeeper in deciding which way to dive, the penalty-taker in guessing which way the keeper will shoot. There is an art of taking penalties, of course: a slight shake of the hips, a foot pointing one way, all designed to throw the keeper off balance. Ruud van Nistelrooy hits 90 per cent of his kicks to the keeper’s right, yet even after conceding that handicap he unerringly scores.
In a one-off penalty kick, as in a one-on-one fight, in guerrilla warfare, there’s room for mindgames and play-acting. Anything to put your opponent off. Before taking his cathartic penalty for England against Argentina last June, David Beckham was distracted by goalkeeper Pablo Cavallero. No quarter was given or asked for and after he’d scored, Beckham felt little remorse.It’s different in a shootout. Shootouts unite rather than divide. After each kick last night, Dida and Buffon, the two rival keepers, would shake hands as if in empathy.
That’s because all those involved – the 10 penalty-takers and the two goalkeepers – know it’s a winner-take-all lottery, a Russian Roulette. There is glory in scoring, but little shame in missing. In a one-off kick the odds favour penalty-taker; in a shootout, the goalkeeper is at an advantage simply because he’s perceived to be at a disadvantage. No wonder, then, that five of the ten shots were saved.
It is the ultimate footballing test of character, the occasion for the men to stand up and be counted. The point is not whether you score; the point is whether you are willing to take that risk, take on that pressure.
Referring to another sport, singer Billy Joel offers a look at what could go on in a footballer’s mind at that moment of reckoning: There you are, in the ninth. Two men out and three men on. Nowhere to look but inside. Where we all respond to pressure
Alessandro del Piero showed his mettle when he stepped up to take what could have been the deciding kick; had he missed, Milan would have won without Shevchenko’s kick. He scored, but only delayed the inevitable as the Ukrainian then showed his own character.
If Del Piero and his teammates want sympathy, maybe they should look towards South Africa.




