Thank You, Nacho Fernández and Benjamin Pavard
Though you wouldn’t know it from this World Cup’s 56 goals in 64 matches, the little buggers are somewhat rare. They also possess remarkable amounts of variety for things that are indeed so rare. There are Own Goals — ironically leading the race for 2018’s Golden Boot — and dumb goals, almost accidental goals and goals scored by butts and faces; then there are intricate goals and powerful goals, goals that come from nowhere and goals orchestrated from very far away from the actual goal. This World Cup has provided just about every type of goal, almost too many to remember, but I must insist that you never forget two.
While Spain battled the cannon-filled quads of Cristiano Ronaldo to a 3–3 tie in head-to-head World Cup debuts, it was Real Madrid lifer José Ignacio Fernández Iglesias, or simply Nacho, who provided the white_guy_blinking.gif moment in the match’s 58th minute.
David Silva, capable himself of the incredible, dribbled his way down the left marked by two defenders. As he checked back inside to open a window for a pass, Isco slid into the space left empty by one of the defenders chasing Silva. Oddly — predeterminedly? — his five-yard pass was inaccurate and Isco was forced to go to ground and stretch his leg out to make contact, but his touch was redirected by a Portugal defefender who had enough time to react. The ball popped up and bounced softly into space on the opposite side, where Nacho had been planted, watching.
The block sent the ball spinning, softly, and at an inviting height. Most players lining up a strike in this situation know the moments are rare. Their eyes widen as they rush to the opportunity as if it’s a mythical creature offering eternal life and prosperity, and in the end they almost always blast a shot nearer to Mars than the goal. Nacho, however, was relaxed.
Perhaps all those years navigating Real Madrid’s academy, then B-team— joining the academy in 2001 at 11, making his senior debut at 21, now 28 — that told to him to rely not on power but his technique. He leaned his body to the left at an awkward but necessary angle, planted his left leg and brought his right level with the height of the ball. His strike was a simple, gently balanced cut across the ball in a motion that almost seemed too relaxed to drive a shot twenty-yards and by a World Cup goalkeeper. What Nacho had somehow managed to do was task the hardest bits of his plan to the natural laws of our planet.
Enough pressure had been applied to send the ball back from where it came, and the outside-of-the-foot strike gave it a spin physics couldn’t ignore. It tracked along a trajectory seemingly plotted by a lab full of NASA scientists. It curved toward goal and arrived at the doorstep of its destination, challenging both posts to betray the universe’s good work. Neither dared and the ball spun into the back of the net.
The velocity, the curve, the flight of the ball — it was all just remarkable.
As France rode the troubling tactics of Didier Deschamps to a much-harder-than-necessary 4–3 win over Argentina, it was VfB Stuttgart and France’s right-back Benjamin Pavard that leveled the match at 2–2 with a carbon copy strike in his match’s 57th minute.
Lucas Hernandez, France’s left-back, charged down his flank to catch up to a through ball and deliver a cross. He was met by an Argentine defender who blocked Hernandez’s intended angle and the ball, yet again, popped up and bounced softly into space on the opposite side, where this time Pavard was the one planted, watching.
Pavard twisted his body at a similar angle, used a similar strike, and sent the ball on a similar trajectory, the only difference is that the ball bypassed asking existential questions of either goalpost, opting instead to fly directly into the side netting.
In matches replete with more broadly known names and more scintillating talents, Nacho and Pavard accomplished the feats most criminal to forget.
