harrykewell

There are no superstars in the Socceroos under Guus Hiddink - just the team. But if there is a main man, it's Hiddink himself, writes MICHAEL COCKERILL in Eindhoven. 

AT THE start of a long week, as the media descended on Socceroos' World Cup HQ in leafy Mierlo, a 15-minute drive west of Eindhoven, the first question asked was the most predictable: "Where's Harry?"

He was there, away from prying eyes, or so he thought. Photographers were camped in the bushes surrounding the Mifano Voetbal Club training ground, crouched with their telephoto lenses, capturing images of a lone figure running in straight lines, watched with hawk eyes by his ever-present entourage of physiotherapist Les Gelis and conditioner Anthony Crea.

Thus Harry Kewell became the focus of attention, again. In the first few days, as he worked out on the back fields, he drew the cameras away from the other 26 players working hard under the stern gaze of coach Guus Hiddink. "There he is," the lensmen would cry, and suddenly the scrum rushed away from the main ground to record Kewell's every movement.

Minders tried vainly to run interference, but this was a feeding frenzy. Gradually, though, the subterfuge began to lose its urgency and its meaning. Kewell was improving, and by Wednesday he was out and proud, smiling even, as he returned the gaze. By Thursday, he had joined the main group for a light, and light-hearted, session of foot volleyball. By Friday, he was participating in a full-scale training game, and Harry Watch was officially over. Heaven forbid, some cameramen even left the ground before Kewell. He'd out-lasted his pursuers.

But if the media was obsessed with Kewell - perhaps, masochistically, because he was the only player in the squad who didn't talk to them - he was, in truth, not the story of the week. The real story of Australia's stay in Mierlo was how hard Hiddink was pushing his players. So hard that veterans Tony Popovic and Craig Moore fell off the perch at various stages. Asked about Moore's injury, assistant coach Graham Arnold said: "He's just old". Asked about Popovic, he joked: "He's got 33-year-old calves."

But it wasn't just the veterans who were feeling the pinch. John Aloisi agreed he'd "never worked so hard in a training camp before". Skipper Mark Viduka mimicked quotation marks as he described one session as "light", a broad smile on his face. Even the youngest players in the group took time to catch their breath as the twice-daily routine took its toll.

At the end of a gruelling season with their clubs, the players were being pushed through the pain barrier to get ready for the World Cup. The intensity surprised observers and, indeed, the players. They said it would be worth it, because Hiddink had told them so, and they believed him. But by the end of the week, there was less conviction, and more hope, in their voices.