“There are lies, damned lies and then, there are statistics.”
Widely attributed to the great 19th Century British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, this is how Daniel Caligiuri must have felt last night. As his sweetly struck volley struck the back of the net and stunned the festive, delirious home crowd into silence, pundits and commentators loudly and ominously proclaimed that Wolfsburg had never lost a game in which the Italian had scored.
However, Caligiuiri had not so much as scored as he had stirred up a hornet’s nest – those complex wheels, akin to the ones Charlie Chaplin holds on to in Modern Times, started whirring inside Pep Guardiola’s head. Out went the insouciant Thiago Alcantara and the ineffectual Juan Bernat. In came Javi Martinez and a certain Mr Robert Lewandowski.
The second half was going to be one hell of a ride.
“Robert Lewandowski loses his motherf***ing mind!”
This is how a website called Screamer made sense of the inexplicable commotion that followed. A commotion that began in the 51st minute; up until then, the burly centre-back pairing of Dante and Naldo looked like they had a measure of the deceptively harmless looking Pole. They didn’t.
His first goal was eerily reminiscent of the kind his Ramdeuter striking partner scores. He just managed to be in the right place at the right time and bundled the Adidas Torfabrik home, past a flailing Diego Benaglio. It was his third touch in the game.
Needless to say, Crowd that singing, the Bavarians’ hugely popular celebration anthem, was played at full blast. Oktoberfest had truly begun.
Strikers are selfish. Strikers showboat. Strikers celebrate. They celebrate long. They celebrate hard.
These are the notions that have been drilled into our heads by the likes of Cristiano Ronaldo, Didier Drogba et al. The 27-year-old Pole though has this almost annoying sense of equanimity about him at all times. He simply doesn’t fuss around – he wants to play.
And this is exactly why the commentators and spectators couldn’t comprehend the fact that he had scored again, just a few seconds later. This was no fortuitous looking tap-in, though. It was a true striker’s finish – an absolute Robert Lewandowski trademark. It was his fifth touch of the ball.
By then, Bayern had gotten into that sadistic mood of theirs. Wolfsburg were there for the taking. Dante tried geeing up the drooping heads and the dead legs – he knew all too well what Bayern Munich on afterburners and steroids could do. He did gee up his teammates – his former ones.
Before long, Lewy found himself in the box again and hit a stinging shot which struck the near post. However, he was in the zone by then and could do no wrong – the ball fell back to his feet in an almost obedient and sycophantic manner, before he took another touch and swept it back home.
Un-effing-believable. Three goals, four minutes, seven touches. Robert Lewandowski, you beauty.
Karl-Heinz Rummenigge had seen almost everything the beautiful game had to offer – and even he didn’t see this coming. Arjen Robben, the man who dragged Iker Casillas across the Salvador floor, looked flabbergasted. What the Dieter Hecking had just happened?
He wasn’t done after a record-breaking hat-trick
Hey wait, he just scored another one! Lewandowski just ghosted into the box out of nowhere and smacked a full-blooded volley past Benaglio, who by then was busy consulting the people of Oxford to find out the word for fear of Poles. The Swiss international, who till then had put in a commanding display of goalkeeping, had been thrown down, trampled upon, dug up, dug out, trampled upon further and dug up again. It was Lewandowski’s eighth touch of the ball.
In the span of six minutes, Robert Lewandowski had become the joint top-scorer of the Bundesliga, along with his partner Thomas Muller, and that fast, fast man, Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang. They took six matches. He did it in six minutes.
Great strikers have the ability to sense vulnerability and score – in heaps. It's an admirable trait that Lewandowski has displayed often before – who can forget his stunning four-goal haul against Real Madrid for Borussia Dortmund? – and he showed it again against Wolfsburg. He showed that on his day, he is the striker who defines the word ‘predator’.
The only two No. 9’s on his level – Sergio Aguero and Luis Suarez – are visibly different. While the former runs with the ball a lot more, the latter is a thoroughly creative player. Lewandowski, however, is a striker in the truest, deepest sense of the word. Every touch of his is measured; measured with the intention of taking one more step towards the goal.
Every single touch.
Oh my holy goddamned meatballs, he just scored another one! And a grand total of two and a half minutes had passed since he scored the last one that triggered this debate. What a world class goal. He just met a speeding cross from well out and delivered an absolutely astonishing first-time taekwondo kick that was destined to fly into the back of the net from the word go.
Oh, my days.
Matthias Sammer looked gobsmacked with delight. Holger Badstuber had to check himself from exerting too much in disbelief, lest he got injured again. Klaus Allofs, the sporting director of Wolfsburg, looked like he had just come out of the cinemas having watched Rosemary’s Baby, another Polish masterpiece.
But if one expression was sufficient to fully convey what the blistering, history-making, orgasmic nine minutes were all about, it was that of his gaffer’s.
Pep Guardiola has seen a lot of things in life, yet he has seldom been left with a dropped jaw. It happened once when Lionel Messi made James Milner look like a ballet dancer on stilettos playing slip soccer. However, this time he looked visibly aghast.
After Lewandowski's fifth, Guardiola's face resembled the WhatsApp emoji where the shocked yellow face turns blue in half. For Guardiola had never seen something like this before. I dare say, nobody had seen anything like this in the history of the beautiful game.
Dziekuje, Robert Lewandowski. Thank You.
