World Cup 2010: Germany vs. Argentina live ticker – Born on July 3

11:38 a.m.

Hello, dear fans. Just a quick note, because it's too hot to work anyway. In an interview with "11FREUNDE täglich" (daily news), Jogi spoke about his occasional outbursts of anger before the game: "Even at home, when I'm barbecuing, I get angry sometimes if something doesn't work out for me." If the Argentinians read this before the game, we're done for. They'll laugh at us. Or they'll be afraid of Jogi's anger. In any case: Don't pour alcohol on the embers!

3:10 p.m.

It's supposed to start at 3 p.m., wrote colleague Gieselmann this morning. He's not quite sure why now. Probably because it was early morning and the game was still a million miles away. Right now it's just so hot. Much too hot. Our brains are shriveling up. We have to carefully store every thought that's left in there. We'll be back at the last minute. Until then, here's a little taster: "Messi's getting a beating today," headlines bild.de. We counter: "Schweini's getting a beating today." Think carefully about whether you don't want to go to the outdoor pool after all.

3:15 p.m.

Oh, one more thing, on a personal note: Can someone remind me in the comments later that I wanted to steal some sage from Gieselmann's balcony? I need it for tomorrow, and there wasn't any at Kaiser's. Thanks.

3:41 PM

Colleague Jonas, you want to steal some sage from me. So, we've taken care of that. Now my mind is free for what is probably the most important game, since I pulled all the sage out of the flowerbed earlier. Oh. Sorry, colleague Jonas. Luckily the Mainzelmännchen are holding the ball up, colleague Jonas is ecstatic, not thinking about eating sage, and Germany is in top form. St. Pauli coach Holger Stanislawski believes that "Germany scores one more goal than Messi." So Messi on the face really? Or Neuer on the walls? All we know is: All you need is Löw. And the Mainzelmännchen. Gunn Aaaaaaaaamd!

3:51 PM

We accidentally ended up at a public viewing. In Gieselmann's penthouse. The doorbell rings every minute, and the concierge arrives with a steady stream of guests. And now: the guest, known to readers of this newsletter as Gieselmann's personified stream of thoughts. He greets me with, "You already look like a gaucho," because I'm wearing a hat. A hat that I was just about to take off, but now can't without making concessions to the guest. I want to go home.

3:55 PM

Come closer, dear fans: Last night I dreamed of Uruguay versus Ghana again – with Poldi as Asamoah Gyan, with Merte as John Mensah, with me as a crying Olli Pocher. Another nightmare: The Argentinian anthem is played first. "It's in alphabetical order," the guest consoles me. "A is for asshole." Excuse him, dear fans, but during Philipp Lahm's speech against racism, his palate was still hanging on the beer tap.

3:57 PM

And now the German anthem, at least in second place. I wish that would be the end of the broadcast, like back when there were only two channels, and then the snow came, until it started again, first with a test pattern and then with Sesame Street. But these days, Cherno Jobatey starts broadcasting at four in the morning, it all happens in one go: Tine Wittler, the Suppernanny, Claus Kleber, Waldi's World Cup Club, "The Greatest Aircraft Carriers of All Time" on N24, snooker with Rolf Kalb, and now this match. The kick-off! Sensory overload! I'm dead, dear fans. And I even paid the license fee for that.

2.

Already ten fouls, once by Klose, once against Poldi, the other eight times by Jonas on me, because of the sage. But no matter, friends, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter, no matter! Because: GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL! For Germany! Free kick from Gottsteiger, that football pig, then a header from Müller's grandmas, they both rise up! And head with their buns! Müller! Müller! Then it goes BOOM! 1-0 for me! And you! For Germany! I kiss my colleague Jonas, he kisses me, he tastes of sage. Why? No matter.

5.

Only now have I woken up from super slow motion and see: Müller's grandmas are doing everything right, but goalkeeper Romero is doing almost everything wrong: He seems to be sweeping his penalty area, and he's doing it with the phlegm of a German studies student, ten minutes before he gets a girl visiting. A girl visiting, to be more precise, from whom he doesn't expect much, but no one should be able to accuse him of being a jerk, not that, but the goal has already been scored, the grandmas' revenge, the girl visiting is rushing off and maybe starting something with Andi Köpke. It's better that way.

9.

"Otamendi's mistake" will enter the German vocabulary like "sitting out," "of all things," "pensioner glutton," or "boxing slut"—that's how often Rethy has said it. It would annoy us, it's Rethy, after all, but those words sound like honey to our ears. Or music? Honey music? And now Otamendi's seeing yellow. Hmmm, honey.

10.

Otamendi is already on the verge of being sent off, watching over Poldi like a gouty Chihuahua watching over a parking garage. And Poldi is happy to have a cookie, shooting like only he can. Corner now. Jonas takes over, I have to send Müller's grandmas a box of chocolates first. I have to have enough time.

14.

What's going on here? Podolski thwarts a counterattack by blocking the passing lane twice. Podolski - passing lane - blocking. Seriously: these words, which don't really fit together, are exactly like that. Not the words, but the things. Whatever. The Argentinians are already kicking everything that moves, Mascherano knocks Schweinsteiger down and doesn't even get a yellow card. But: Podolski - passing lane - blocking. Hooray!

17.

The only bad thing about "Schweinsteiger being a man now" (Uli Hoeneß) is that you're no longer allowed to write "Basti" or "Schweini." So, that's bad for a live ticker: a hell of a lot of letters, a hell of a lot of potential for spin. We'll count it later.

19.

Now I'm no longer afraid to take off my hat because of the visitors, but out of superstition. Everything should continue exactly the same. Of course, Argentina is also dangerous from time to time, but only up to the penalty area and no further. And the Germans are, above all, there / present / fully focused. Pick something from the box, it's true.

22.

Schweinsteiger takes revenge on Demichelis, who is supposed to pass it on to Mascherano later; they know each other, a service between friends. Then, a brief cardiac arrest: Messi messes with Tevez, who also recommends a scar on the rushing Neuer for aesthetic reasons, and immediately puts on the studs himself. Neuer saves, but is angry. But to be honest, he still doesn't look nearly as dangerous as Tevez, even when he's smiling.

25.

No! Müller Müllers, but Klose... let's leave it at that. Klose misses a, well, 100% chance, and I spill the 40% chance in shock. Over it, or on my pants, or shit!

27.

My colleague Jonas can no longer help the team and leaves in a huff. What the heck, we have each other, dear fans, and we need each other! Us! Too! Because now the Argentinians are breaking through on the right, dribbling, fumbling, Neuer is sweating, Di Maria, Messi, Heinze, who moves up too often for my liking. He shouldn't do that, it's too dangerous. But not his shot. It's a joke, not a good one, like, for example, "What does a clown do in the office? Joke!" So. Goal kick. Phew.

29.

Via bild.de, the mayor of Pähl threatened: "We have a fantastic traditional costume band. It would be fantastic if we could welcome Thomas with them at Munich Airport and then celebrate with him in the village." How can anyone unsettle our best man like that? What does the Bavarian bureaucrat get from Maradona? And what does Mick Jagger, who's hanging around in the stands again, get for Rolling Stones someone to ruin? A global conspiracy is afoot, but Neuer holds his ground. Awesome.

33.

Germany's play looks very, very modern to us, cool even, kind of like Federer when he was still good. But then Higuain, trying to avoid the break, dribbles, shoots, but Neuer saves. Again. Do we even need to say that?

35.

Now the traditional costume band has a partial victory to its name. Müller receives a yellow card for handball. He. Misses. The. Semifinal. Müller, the new Ballack? Thank you, Mr. Mayor. Thank you very much.

37.

Goal! Goal? Goal! No, yes, yes! No: offside. Argentina is offside, and they have three men: Messi, Tevez, and Higuain. Maradona, Burruchaga, Evita, and Ché Guevara also look past, no goal, no goal! Move on, there's nothing more to see here.

39.

Poldi can't get over the fact that he once scored from the halfway line. But that was in the F-youth team, on a small-sided pitch, yet he continues to shoot from anywhere and everywhere, just not into the goal. Should we maybe tell him that, if no one else dares?

41.

And now Özil, the Erlözil, he also shoots, he also shoots from somewhere, he also misses by a long shot, but at least he doesn't do the Poldi thumbs-up afterward; he even regrets it. A partial success.

43.

Maradona! Hand! In the coaching zone! Takes three minutes to retrieve the ball. Time for God's diet.

44.

Counterattack! Müller! A stork-like dribble! Deflected! Just wide! "Wow!" Merkel exclaims in the stands, sweating the sweet sweat of love into her costume. Schweini receives the signals, and now he, too, is shooting from all angles. This woman! SHE'S to blame! I'm going for it.

46.

Suddenly, there's a whimpering in the room, like in a children's home just before the vaccination. "No, no, no, no, no!" the guest prays. He doesn't want the Argentinians to attack, or Messi to shoot, but he does – over the top! Messi isn't that good after all. My opinion. And now it's halftime. We're leading 1-0. Things could stay calm. My opinion too.

4:48 PM

Advertisement. A man who looks like an iguana buys a car that looks like a freezer, even though he doesn't want it. Where is the subtle message we're supposed to fall for? Maybe this clip is just tearing a hole in our brains into which the ghostly "Doctor Klenk" from the shampoo commercial can now stare. With those eyes. Which are the eyes of Tevez. The hunchback of Notre Dame. The one who wants to give us another beating in the second half. Now I'm scared. I'll quickly buy myself a car, even though I don't want it. Aaah! Commercialism!

4:52 PM

"YES!" headlines bild.de. "How can we top that?" ponders colleague Jonas, who has returned from exile and now serves as press spokesman, then he says: "YEEEEESSSSS!" Brilliant. No one can do that, even if we have to eat all the A keys in the world ourselves. Hmmm, A keys!

4:54 PM

Kahn sees "no clearly defined system among the Argentinians," but unfortunately doesn't say that we no longer have to be afraid. Then again, advertising, cars, telephones, men angrily eating hamburgers even though they get a ton of money for it, Magdalena Neuner lying on her face, man, man, man, I want Horst Hrubesch to come now and simply head off any hints of skepticism. Damned DFB. Bierhoff hangs around in the stands the whole time, but they can't manage to give me, a member of TuS St. Hülfe-Heede for 15 years, a bodyguard. But: GERMANY!

5:03 PM

We've just learned from the comments that Gruner + Jahr now holds a majority stake in 11FREUNDE. Gieselmann immediately orders a free subscription to "Gala." What no one knows yet: ZDF has apparently also been sold, is now operating as a private broadcaster, and blasts out as much advertising in 15 minutes as it would normally do in an entire year (- Gruner).

46.

Let's continue, no substitutions, but Argentina is under a lot of pressure. Far too much for my taste, now I'm scared too, so I'm going to lie down under the sofa with Gieselmann.

48.

It's only been two and a half minutes, but they shouldn't keep this up for long. The only thing that gives us hope right now is that we're obviously good at counterattacking. And that Di Maria is now shooting from everywhere. Wide.

51.

Five and a half minutes of play, and I'm breathing a sigh of relief for the first time. At least Germany has a bit of possession again—not a lot, but still.

53.

Ouch! Higuain shoots in the penalty area, hitting Merte full in the face. He "blocks with his tongue," Gieselmann shouts, as if it were a delicacy. Mertesacker staggers to Maradona, whom he now mistakes for Mario Adorf, and stammers: "Träner, I'm moving on, you always say I'm well insured." Maradona retorts at Mario Adorf: "Yes! But I want you to get something out of this!"

55.

Ever since Merte got the ball on his tongue, Bela hasn't been able to stop his boxing rhetoric: "For the twelve!" he enthuses. "Effective hit!" When will the director finally throw in the towel?

56.

Pills! "Friedrich and Klose are the only ones born in the '70s!" Rethy now says, using birth control. And what about me? With my colleague Jonas? With the ghost of Malente? Do we not even exist? Now I'm even more afraid.

60.

Germany's midfield is now as open as Rolf Eden's pants at 3 a.m. This leads to evictions, nervous breakdowns, and the end of even previously stable romantic relationships. "Maaaaaaann! Schweinsteiger!" barks my colleague Jonas. "Just play something properly!" That reminds me of something: "Just do some proper washing up!" He said that the other day when he found a piece of fluff in his dessert bowl. And then he hit me. Really hard. Help, dear fans.

64.

Messi is stressing! Higuain! He could shoot! But Lahm suddenly has legs as long as Claudia Schiffer and tackles him. Strike a pose!

65.

And always someone new. He may be about 20 years younger than me, but I still have feelings for him like a son does for his father, he's so reliable in packing the balls. "Daddy!" croaks the guest, wanting to be picked up. It's not possible right now.

67.

Boateng now like Wolfgang Weber, when he broke his fibula in the match between 1. FC Köln and FC Liverpool and played on for 60 minutes. He drags himself, gasps, everything hurts. Then the pass and another one, Poldi! Is he shooting? Please don't! No, he's acting sensibly! For whatever reason! He pushes the ball into the middle, as soft as a slice from Steffi Graf, there's Miro, Miro, I love you! And he licks it in! GOOOOOOOOOAAAL! It's 2-0! 2-0! Against Argentina! Make a note of that, get a tattoo of that, dear fans! I'm collapsing immediately.

68.

Colleague Jonas invites us to a "Slide Show: Quarterfinals 2010," and we see: Müller delivered the magic pass! Lying down! Like he used to! In the arena! This guy is unbelievable! He's the youth we've lost; through him, we relive the best years of our lives. Not everything—you don't want to be a lecher, after all—but some things. Ahem.

72.

No... No... Noooo... My head is broken. In truth, I probably even died after the Serbia game. Because what I'm seeing now can't be reality: Schweini with the greatest solo of all time, goes through on the left, then passes it into the middle, and who's there? Who's there, dear fans? ARNE FRIEDRICH! GOAL! The man who got relegated with Hertha makes it 3-0 here. I love him. I love Bela Rethy. I love myself, for the first time in my life. I'm out of this mess. Say hello if you see me.

75.

What will become of Maradona now? Will Raul Castro call and make him Cuba's national coach? Will he and his eleven sons take over SSC Napoli's second team? Or will he become, as Bela Rethy now predicts, a "cattle baron"? We don't know. We only wish him all the best.

80.

If only, if only, bicycle chain. Mascherano tackles Klose, gets a yellow card, would be suspended, he can save himself the trouble. Ten minutes left, and it's just a matter of making sure no one else is suspended. Except Müller. Besides, it could still be a matter of scoring another goal against the Argentinians. Or two. Or three. I'll read that again now, maybe then I'll believe it.

82.

Kroos came on for Khedira and immediately joined the "I'll shoot too" line. We would have thought that was stupid before, but now it's great. Football, you're a super guy!

84.

Müller is also a great guy. Müller = football. Football has a cramp, is substituted, and Trochowski comes on for him.

86.

Thank goodness (and from now on, we don't mean Maradona, but Schweinsteiger), Rethy is only now telling us that it's 16 degrees Celsius in Cape Town. 16 degrees Celsius. Yuck!

88.

"A laughing Michael Ballack," Rethy discovers. I discover a man who has put on a grinning facade, but who may be harboring other thoughts behind it. For example: CRAZY!!! 4 (FOUR) TO 0 (NULL)!!! KLOSE!!! Özil chips the ball in smoothly from the left, Klose doesn't hesitate any longer, but simply puts his foot in. In. Somersault. Somersault. (Please turn over your computer!)

90.+1

I wrote a poem, dear fans. It doesn't rhyme; I was too excited for that, but anyway. Here it is:

Maradona, beloved enemy.

It hurts to hit you,

as if we were beating ourselves.

Hurray and oh dear.

Now go with God.

Come back with Cuba.

Nice, isn't it? Not? Too bad. Oh well. Whatever.

90.+3

Over! Over! The game is over! Germany is world champion... stop now, or I'll burst with patriotism. One thing at a time, as soberly as possible in 38 degrees in the shade and with eight bottles of beer: Germany beat Argentina 4-0, the boys played incredibly, truly incredibly well, the national coach shook off the skeptics, the team can now go for the title, maybe even a certain Müller will make it 2-1 again. Against Holland! And I thought only ZDF showed replays. How come? Never have we been so sorry that the so-called "experts" aren't experts and therefore won't be able to answer this question for us. Maybe it's a "miracle," even if we actually find miracles irritating. Or as Oscar Wilde said: "I don't believe in miracles. I've seen too many of them."

5:56 PM

Hello, fans. I'm lying here right now in the middle of a cheering crowd and can hardly breathe. Thomas Müller can't know. When asked what the mood in Germany is like, he says: "Sad faces in bad weather - and no barbecue meat." Not true, but still damn funny, just like the whole guy. Oh! I would have loved to have had a big brother like that when I was little. And Kahn as an even bigger brother, just in case. "Hehehehe, training game," he grins. Oh, Titan! Let's dance to the official World Cup anthem, which we now think is great too. Great! Great! Everything's great! We even think it's great that we think everything's great. Great!

6:01 p.m.

Only Schweini is still angry with Argentina. You won, boy! Now you should be happy! Maybe he can't believe it all either, when Friedrich's goal is played in, his voice catches. Friedrich! He made it 3-0! That's a load of rubbish (and I don't mean Mertesacker)! "He should just say that he wants to be world champion now," says Kahn, who, of course, wants to be world champion. Always. Even as a pensioner. With Germany. In the final against Müller-Hohenstein. Yuck.

6:04 PM

8-1 goals in the matches against England and Argentina, 13-2 goals overall—we want to record that, since Philipp Lahm is now warning about Paraguay. Sorry, but: Hahahhahahahahparahahaguay! 8-1 again, I say. Sorry, Roque.

6:06 PM

Now Löw, the greatest national coach of all time. "The team has, let's just say, shown the will of champions." Now he's also spoiling the English's speech. Isn't that going too far?

6:08 p.m.

And now the goals again in replay, each one more silly than the last. And once again the Chancellor jumps up, Köhler, Guido, Gauck, and Seehofer – who's that? Once again, life's misfortunes arise as Klose hammers the ball over the bar, but then Angie leaps, she jumps, she floats, she has the absolute majority. Löw: "An incredible workload, ffffff!"

6:11 p.m.

"Is Klose about to make real history here?" Michael Steinverbrecher is now desperate to know. "Yes, fffff, he has already made history, fffff." And I'll now hand it over to my colleague, Jonas, to find out in peace, fffff, why Löw always goes "fffff."

6:18 p.m.

We'll stop now, dear fans. It's just too crazy. On the fan mile, they're interviewing a fan who can't say anything other than "world champions." That's not unusual; they find someone like that after every game, even after defeats. We just can't think of much that speaks against it. Spain, Paraguay, Netherlands, Uruguay. Doesn't sound worse than England and Argentina. Müller is missing, that's true. In the semifinals. Then not anymore. What else is there to say about this game? It was: great. The end is over. We're grinning towards the evening. Take care.