Socceroos lost in Sydney but we don't care!

The Socceroos lost to Uruguay 2-1 in Sydney on Saturday night, but many Australian football fans could only smile as memories of the most exciting night in Australian sport came flooding back.
I’d never been to a Socceroos game before November 16, 2005 Well, maybe one, a 9-0 over Tahiti the early 90’s. In truth there weren’t many games over the years, and even fewer that meant anything. When you’d grown up in the cut and thrust of watching Old Firm games, Socceroos games lacked a certain fire.
So I was surprised when I found myself and my six-year-old daughter heading north to Sydney for the World Cup Qualifier against Uruguay on that spring day.
There isn’t much between Canberra and Sydney. 300km, a dried out Lake, and some sheep. Lots of sheep.
Man and daughter, tootling along. Me with spectacles, and receding hairline. I was keeping to the speed limit in my white Toyota Camry, once described as the most boring car in the world.
How I would have presented to the hoons that pulled alongside? I looked in the mirror, no other cars for miles. Four men. Leering. They slowed and pulled alongside.
The lad nearest looked pissed. He wound down his window. I did the same.
He was so close he could nearly touch me.
“Go the Socceroos,” he screamed.
“I hate (Alvaro) Recoba,” I screamed back. We all laughed.
Socceroo banter on the Federal Highway! What was happening in Australia?
At the game, you could feel it outside the ground. The buzz, the expectation. I met old students wandering in their Australian shirts. I never even knew they cared.
“I flew in from Malaysia especially,” said Grant from University.
Kids kicked balls on the forecourt. Uruguayan and Australian fans mingled, and sang loud and proud. There were no police in sight. It felt odd.
Recoba shot wide. Popovich survived a send-off appeal. Hiddink introduced Kewell. Bresciano scored. Penalties came. It was close to midnight.
My daughter lay on her seat. We were high up in the stand, the very last row. We watched each player take the walk, the long walk to the penalty spot. And Viduka missed!
“You can go to sleep if you want.”
“I don’t want to miss it.”
I ate an apple. All through the penalty shoot-out I ate an apple. I don’t know why.
John Aloisi scored and the crowd, oh the crowd. The roar of success.
England sing about thirty years of hurt since their last World Cup win, well we’d had thirty years of hell. Argentina, Iran, and Uruguay, one worse than the last. Each defeat weakening our domestic game kick by kick.
After Aloisi scored. He ran. All the Socceroos ran. The whole country ran.
Some laughed, some cried. Australia united like never before. We were stuck in the car park for hours. We didn’t care. No road rage here.
My daughter will never see a more important Australian sporting occasion as long as she lives.
It was the night our history changed, forever.
And so this time it didn’t matter. When Recoba egged the crowd, we jeered but not like before.
The Uruguayan national anthem was played in silence. Last time, with all the boos, who could hear it?
Mile Sterjosvki scored, but the Uruguayans hit back. Recoba, the crafty schemer found space and drilled a pass to the far post. Diego Forlan tapped home.
And then Brad Jones, the Australian keeper on his debut, dropped a cross. Not a dipping bending one, more a floating lob. It fell to Recoba, of course, who nodded home.
Uruguay won 2-1. I didn’t care, not this time. We’ve moved on.
Iran, I can laugh at the word now. It took eight years to stop the churn of the stomach when that word was mentioned.
Australia has problems. Not for the Asia Cup, but beyond. Our next generation are not Kewell and Viduka. Our golden boys.
The Socceroos pulled 20,000 more than The Wallabies Rugby match on the same night. Football has come along way.
Losing to Uruguay didn’t hurt. Honest!

This article first appeared at www.netfa.com