Gdansk: Joachim Loew readily admits he has romantic tastes, but the candlelit supper prepared for his side on their return from the dismantling of Greece was, perhaps, stretching the point.
It was not a planned dining experience. A power cut at the Germans’ hotel in the resort of Sopot, near Gdansk, prompted some late tinkering. The temptation to suggest it is their potential semi-final opponents who will need to escape the dark ages is too difficult to resist.
England will follow the academy blueprint Germany imposed following a dismal 2004, but Loew’s seemingly effortless redefining of national identity still requires the validation of a trophy.
Even in the aftermath of an exceptional performance against Greece there were challenges to his vision, a hint, possibly, of what England may confront if they try to radicalise their football culture.
Mesut Ozil, the emblem of Germany’s dynamic youth policy, topped one illustrious vote following the emphatic 4-2 quarter-final victory but led another less favourable poll. Ozil was named man of the match in the stadium, but perplexingly, German television viewers considered him the least effective player.
It is tempting to view such dissent as a symbol of where Germany will remain until Loew’s squad secures its first title. They are in that middle ground where conservative and progressive thinking collides. It is always the most precarious territory to overcome.
England craves an Ozil, but uncharitable assessments are not rare for the Real Madrid midfielder, 23. He divides opinion because many Germans are still struggling to adapt to the reality of a national team that wishes to charm rather than chisel its way to results.
If Ozil is not at his enchanting best, and he accepts he had not performed to Bernabeu and Bloemfontein heights until the quarter-final, his overall contribution is consistently re-evaluated.
Loew believes the elevated expectations are based on standards Ozil set at a tender age. The national coach promised on the eve of the meeting with Greece that Ozil was ready for “an explosion like the one against England in the World Cup”.
The detonations stirred the soul of the spectators every time he touched the ball in the Gdansk arena. Ozil is a different breed of playmaker in Germany, creating his own legacy rather than following the path of those who preceded him.
Lothar Matthaus, Andreas Muller and Steffen Effenberg possessed so much strutting arrogance, the badge on their shirt incidental for anyone determining their nationality.
Few Englishman will forget the image of Muller at Wembley in 1996, striking the winning penalty in the semi-final before stiffening his back, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest. He couldn’t have looked any more like the stereotypical German.
Such conduct would never occur to the modest Ozil or his peers, who favour artistry and humility. Loew has rarely singled out individuals for lavish praise during his media briefings, but Ozil is an exception, as if his manager is ultra-protective of this slight non-conformist because of how deeply he represents his philosophy.
Asked prior to the Greece game why Ozil had not yet performed, Loew took sharp exception. “Maybe the coach sees what you do not see,” he said. “The problem is not Ozil, it is that his teammates need to make more varied runs to give him more passing options.”
This may explain why, despite three wins in the group phase, Loew still felt compelled to make three changes in the quarter-final, with those areas most dependant on Ozil’s creative eye being refreshed.
The striker and two wide men were replaced — the entire attacking thrust of the team altered. A risk? Hardly. Two of the newcomers, Miloslav Klose and Marco Reus, scored, and even against the retreating Greeks the interplay was sharp enough to create frequent opportunities.
Ozil was the key to justifying the changes, Loew correctly determining so long as the means of supply functioned the individuals on the receiving end would profit, regardless of their identities.
“Ozil deserved the man-of-the-match award,” said Loew. “He was always there — when we were on the attack, he was always in the game, always available, always on the move. He made the connection between the players at the back and the attackers, everything went through him.”
Reus and Schurrie are the latest graduates of the German youth centres from which 22 of Loew’s squad emerged. The exception is Klose. The national team’s general manager, Olivier Bierhoff, says the striker is the last of his breed.
“A career like Klose is not possible in Germany today,” he said. “Everyone must come through the youth centre.”
Whether it’s the representation of a departed age in Klose, or the new generation in Reus and Schurrie, Ozil is the on-field catalyst entrusted with bringing it all together.
It is Loew’s midfield champion who is easing along the final remnants of Germany’s football past while ushering in the youthful exuberance of its future.
Until England can develop such an array of talent, it is they who are destined to sit contemplatively in the darkness after each major tournament.
