As Iran coach Amir Ghalenoei came to terms with another Asian Cup exit at the semi-final stage, on a day he described as the worst of his life, he noted that his side wasn’t the only heavyweight to be eliminated.
South Korea, Ghalenoei observed, had been bundled out by Jordan the night prior, while his own Team Melli had accounted for Japan in the quarter-finals.
Ghalenoei added that Saudi Arabia had gone out early, and that so had Australia – not the first time one of Asia’s top coaches had, unprompted, elevated the Socceroos’ status in Doha.
Jürgen Klinsmann had a similar refrain after his Taeguk Warriors’ semi-final defeat to Jordan, while Qatar boss Tintín Márquez pointed to Australia’s departure when asked if not winning a tournament on home soil represented a failure.
Saudi coach Roberto Mancini, of Premier League and European Championship-winning fame, had cited Australia as one of the strongest sides in the tournament before his side’s elimination, as did Japan mentor Hajime Moriyasu.
But are the Socceroos truly one of Asia’s strongest sides?
Key players in Asia seem to think so, something to be accounted for in moments of reflection. However, another elimination at the quarter-final stage suggests that it’s a reputation that cannot be taken for granted.
On paper, the latest exit appears “better” than the 2019 elimination against the UAE.
Leading after 90 minutes against a South Korean outfit filled with some of Asia’s best players, attached to some of the world’s biggest clubs, it took a last-gasp penalty and then a moment of magic from global superstar Son Heung-min to knock Australia out in extra-time.
Much of the game was played on the Socceroos’ terms as they repelled a Korean outfit demonstrating an alarming disjointedness in possession, and only wayward finishing prevented Australia from being two or even three goals ahead – a margin that would likely have rendered the last fateful exchanges moot.
Yet as the heartache fades, questions still linger. Not only on that particular loss, but also on the challenges encountered in the preceding games, and just how they may be interconnected.
In some ways, South Korea got an insight into both the peaks and nadirs of the Socceroos under coach Graham Arnold. At its best, principles of commitment, defensive fortitude, and delivery towards carefully planned runs into the box dulled, and at times confounded, a highly-credentialed opponent.
What the Socceroos do well, they do very well. On another day, perhaps most days, they win that game; Korean media mused positively post-game about Arnold’s potential fit in the K-League.
Yet in this same game, a decision to retreat and defend in the final exchanges, despite the Saudis doing the same thing days prior only to fall late to Korea’s “Zombie Football”, ultimately proved costly.
When the equaliser and extra-time came, Australia’s move to sit deep, and the associated shift into a back five, left few attacking options or the impetus to attempt to recover and find another goal even before they were reduced to 10 men.
Further, their travails in possession throughout the tournament suggested that even without this handicap, the Socceroos were ill-suited to taking the initiative in possession. As the landscape shifted, there wasn’t a clear avenue back into the game.
A microcosm of the Socceroos in one heartbreaking package. The sun rises in the east, sets in the west, and Arnieball is Arnieball. This team can punch above their weight but their strengths can be mitigated (give them the ball) and limitations can be exposed by opponents or game state. That wouldn’t have changed with a win over South Korea.
As tempting as it is to cite perceived deficiencies in talent, a final between Qatari and Jordanian squads featuring just a single player based in Europe, with the likes of Son, Wataru Endō and Mehdi Taremi already eliminated, robs that of impact. Australia has the talent needed to do well.
Instead, a continuing rise of less heralded sides in Asia – Syria, Uzbekistan, and even Tajikistan also reaching the knockouts – demonstrates that nothing can be taken for granted, and just what is possible with a defined approach, despite lesser resources.
Unfortunately for Australia, and indeed Asia’s other heavyweights flirting with similar entropy in possession, most of these approaches are built on principles of maximising talent through defensive solidarity and counter-attacking, placing onus on the confederation’s ancien régime to unlock them.
Is it enough to slog through Asia if it means bloodying the noses of global powerhouses? Is there a way to improve the former while keeping the latter?
Navigating this challenge can’t simply be solved by throwing resources at the problem. That’ll help, but the challenges and solutions for Arnold – as well as Klinsmann, Mancini, Moriyasu, Ghalenoei and others – are on the pitch.
As Asia evolves, so too must they. As long as their federations back their philosophy and vision, they must find answers as a new era, a new challenge, demands a response.
