They put four perfect penalties past Leonardo Franco, the substitute Argentina goalkeeper, in the shoot-out and it was enough. Jens Lehmann rose to the occasion as only a German goalkeeper can and saved from Roberto Ayala and Esteban Cambiasso. Thus a night on which Germany looked as if the momentum had left them was turned back to joy by means of tireless running, overwhelming will in the face of disappointment and, in the end, that extraordinary tradition of brilliance at the art of the penalty shoot-out. Perhaps England should have looked for a German manager.

As the Germans celebrated, so the players, who had been getting on each others’ nerves all match, turned on each other, with Gabriel Heinze, of Manchester United and Argentina, much to the fore. Although the kerfuffle was more unseemly than scandalous, featuring pushing and shoving rather than haymaking punches, it was a pity that an evening of high drama and high intensity should end with the tiresome rather than the heroic side of the game. Leandro Cufré, an unused Argentina substitute, was shown a red card after the final whistle and there was a footnote provided by José Pekerman, the Argentina coach announcing that he was standing down after two years in charge. “I can leave with my head held high,” he said.

It was a high-stakes poker-shoot of a match. It was the first at the tournament contested by teams who would be seriously disappointed not to win the World Cup; also, teams for whom a quarter-final defeat would be a sack-the-coach, shoot-the-players disaster. The Argentinians felt it dreadfully at the end.

The atmosphere was crackling with neuroses from the start, with every attack accompanied by the almost unbearable thought that it opened you up for a potential counter-thrust. It was plain from the first light, feathery exchanges that losing was more than either team could bear. The scuffling end was perhaps inevitable.

Maybe football was never meant to assume an importance such as this. Last night, matters seemed too grave for anyone’s peace of mind. It was also the first high-level culture clash of the tournament and it was intriguing to see the matter from a neutral perspective. The Argentinians love deception above all things. It was, as ever, their first resort as they entered the match: deception by means of ball skill, angle of pass or of run, change of pace or of direction. Also, of course, deception by means of subterfuge: the trip, the tug and the judicious collapse.

Each team was led by its playmaker: two iron-door defences, two key-masters. Juan Román Riquelme, of Argentina, was more theatrical, liking his moment of pause in which to perform a misdirection ploy — “Ladies and gentlemen, I have nothing up my sleeve.” For Riquelme, football is a kind of chess and the checkmate move seems always just beyond his grasp.

Michael Ballack plays a different role — less showy, more mobile, demanding more of the ball. He is a glutton for responsibility. He wants to matter, to make a difference. Ballack was out there seeking to find the right key for all of Germany and in the first half he both created and attempted to finish the best chance — he cares so much that he would certainly head in his own crosses if he could. He set up the move, darted into the penalty area and headed narrowly wide.

Such angst-ridden matches need a goal and it came at the beginning of the second half. A sumptuously flighted corner from Riquelme swirled away from Lehmann and as the Arsenal goalkeeper stood back, Ayala flung himself at the ball with a wild, uninhibited courage. He made thunderous contact and in that single instant, all anxiety vanished from the game.

For Germany, it was attack or be damned. No time now to be clever or patient. A little more than half an hour to score, or spend your life ruing the fact that you failed.

Germany played the last half-hour of normal time as if it were the last two minutes, doing everything at several hundred kilometres an hour, convinced that they could explode their way through the Argentina defence if only their knees went up and down fast enough: “Do not think, run, get the ball back in play, run some more.”

Pekerman then decided to settle for 1-0, taking off Riquelme and Hernán Crespo. It was a crucial error. It brought more high-speed defiance from Germany and then a cross from Ballack into the area, glanced on by Tim Borowski, for Miroslav Klose to come darting through for an incisive finish, the more remarkable for all that it meant to his team. It was enough to reignite hope and to send Germany on into the horrors of extra time and penalties.