Mario Gotze was horizontal when he connected with that ball. Night was about to fall; the setting sun balanced on the head of the Christ of the Redeemer, Rio's most famous icon – aside from perhaps Romario or Garrincha – resembling just another Brazilian on the beach. And yet this was a night won not with flair at all, but with hard work thawing German hearts: a country reunified in the 90s, re-energised in 2006, with a fourth star – a first as one nation, one Germany – stamped by a son of post-Cold War Bavaria.
Whatever the cliches may claim of Germany's sense of humour, you'd have been met with stony faces had you told anyone in white that night in the Maracana to wait at least 16 years to win another World Cup knockout fixture. Imagine telling them that night, Das Defining Deutsch side of its time – its Krooses, Lahms and Neuers, Jogi Low overseeing with his furrowed frown and haircut ripped from a Jungle Book vulture – that they would stand tall across the world for one night only. Success in Brazil. But no more.
