Soccer: Heroes for more than just one day

All Whites players (from left) Ivan Vicelich, Tim Brown, Ryan Nelsen and Simon Elliott in a moment of quiet reflection after their 1-0 World Cup win over Bahrain. Photo / Mark Mitchell

David Bowie's words rang so true for the second band of All Whites to qualify for the greatest single sports spectacle on the planet.

The first group, the class of'82, did an emotional lap of Westpac Stadium before the kickoff. Some have aged better than others.

Wynton Rufer, the one genuinely world-class star, still looked like he could have pulled on his boots for the big match. The crowd rose in acclamation of the men with names such as Sumner, Woodin, Elrick, Malcolmson, van Hattum, Almond, Cole and Mackay.

Twenty-seven years on they are still fondly remembered.

But now it's time to anoint fresh heroes, and New Zealand's soccer's finest night in 27 years produced men who did the shirt and the country so proud before the biggest crowd to witness a soccer match in this country.

So fast forward another 27 years. What will we remember about November 14, 2009?

Will we still think of men like captain Ryan Nelsen, so secure and cool-headed in binding the defensive operation together? Or goalscorer Rory Fallon, son of noted hard man Kevin, assistant coach in 1982 and who had tears in his eyes before the kickoff on Saturday night.

Or goalkeeper Mark Paston, without whose nerveless penalty save and vital reflex block in the first half, the All Whites might today be reflecting on a night when hope was extinguished at the last.

Or right-sided wing back Leo Bertos, so energetic and providing the spark for the likes of Chris Killen, Fallon and Shane Smeltz up front, men who ran themselves to a standstill.

The crowd, upbeat and buoyant, but not cocky, and predominantly decked out in white, were in good heart on the walk along the concourse towards the stadium before the start.

Later the players would speak emphatically about the part that giant sea of white played in the outcome.

They rode each pass, hearts on sleeves. In return they had a 90-minute rollercoaster of emotions.

They ebbed and flowed through Killen's acrobatic volley bouncing off the crossbar early on - might that be the closest New Zealand would get? - to Fallon's goal just before halftime when the stadium erupted, through the huge, collective groan of the penalty award to Bahrain, with the subsequent explosion at Paston's splendid save, to the cliffhanger finale as Bahrain got the ball into New Zealand's net, only to have it ruled out for a foul just before the end.

The minutes crept by ever slower through the second half. Players didn't see it that way. Bertos reckoned the game flew by, apart from the first 10 minutes when Bahrain came hard at New Zealand's defence.

Someone put hot bricks under coach Ricki Herbert's seat, so often was he up and marching to the touchline, both urging and urgent in getting his message across to his players.

Then jubilation, unrestrained joy at the final whistle. For 10 long minutes afterwards no one left the stadium, apart from the small, shattered band of Bahraini fans.

Rugby doesn't do this, the sharing of the pain and the delight. This was 90 minutes of madness, of edge-of-the-seat tension, relieved whenever the ball landed safely in Paston's mitts, or a linesman flagged for a Bahraini offside.

The night was about a collective will and national embracing of a remarkable achievement.

Later the crowds poured into central Wellington. Cars hooted horns, flags were everywhere, a happy conga line waddled past the Beehive; fans got happily hammered.

It was a brilliant night, expertly organised, touching all the right buttons. One jarring note? Shortly after the finish the giant screens were showing images of rugby games at the Cake Tin.

Why, on this of all nights? Just plain insulting. Still, mustn't grumble too hard. You don't get these nights coming along often.

Yesterday morning as a plane began taxiing to the end of the runway, it passed a white and bronze liveried aircraft with the logo "Bahrain, 2010" emblazoned on the side, loading up in preparation for a flight home none of its passengers wanted, or anticipated.

One Auckland-bound passenger called out, "See you later, Bahrain."

No he won't. They're going one way; the All Whites are off in an entirely different direction.