With the prospect of Honduras v Chile on telly and it being a glorious summer’s morning outside, I decided to do something other than gawp at the TV and went down to Elland Road for a stadium tour. I’ve been a regular attendee down at the Theatre Of Shattered Dreams since 1983 but have never had a proper look round.

It did, however, turn out to be very much a World Cup-related jaunt, a little spookily so. Former Leeds, Rangers, Watford and Northern Ireland defender John McClelland (pictured) is the tour guide and I struck up a conversation with him about his career.

He went to 2 World Cups (’82 & ’86- the smallest country ever to qualify for more than one World Cup) but didn’t play in the 2nd one after breaking an ankle in Watford’s League Cup win over Crewe. He did, however, play in all 5 games of their gob-smackingly successful ’82 campaign, including the famous win over the hosts. When one fan on the tour asked ‘Did you play in the Gerry Armstrong game against Spain?‘, McClelland got him in a playful headlock and said; ‘People like you call it the Gerry Armstrong game just because he scored an easy goal but I got Man Of The Match that night, and we had 10 men for a lot of it, Mal Donaghy got sent off..!’ Fair point, big John.

In the Leeds dressing room, he had also hung a selection of famous shirts he’d accrued during his playing career, amongst them a #20 shirt from that Spain game which belonged to Barcelona’s Quini, who scored over 300 goals in Spain, 7 times being La Liga’s top scorer, consecutively in ’78-’79 and between 1980-82. Impressive stats, but not as remarkable as the fact he was once kidnapped at gunpoint in 1981 and kept captive for 25 days until Barcelona had squandered the title without his goals to help them. (Here’s that very shirt…)

McClelland also told the tale of how, after Northern Ireland’s last game against France, one of their players asked him to swap shirts as he was applauding the Irish fans. John turned round, obliged, but then thought ‘Who the hell are you?! You didn’t play!’ and he still has no idea whose shirt it is. Well, as I had nowt better to do, I researched it when I got in and discovered that French number 6 shirt actually belonged to Christian Lopez of St. Etienne. Couldn’t McClelland have just Googled it too? Or would it have taken some of the comedic allure away from his old pro’s yarn?

I caught most of the 2nd half of Honduras Chile in Billy’s Bar and it didn’t look to be too engrossing. More of a ‘Hondurance’ test, if anything. Arf Arf! The Hondurans’ last World Cup was in 1982 when they were in the same group as Spain (as they are this year) and, you guessed it… John McClelland’s Northern Ireland, against whom they won their last World Cup point. Spooky, eh?

Spain are in the strange situation of being favourites despite never having won the World Cup. The first time this has been the case since probably Brazil in Sweden ’58 (I remember it well). Their status as most-fancied team has come about after an incredible run of 45 wins in the last 48 games (only 1 defeat and 113 goals scored) but is also due to La Liga now being considered the world’s best league and because of the way Barcelona have been re-educating the football world as to how the game should be played. There’s a strong Barca spine to the team with Puyol and Pique at the back, Iniesta and Xavi wearing out opposing midielders with their rapid passing and Busquets tidying up behind them while, up front, David Villa’s now a Barcelonista but isn’t yet fully-versed in their eye-catching and dizzyingly effective methods.

Nice shade of blue the Spaniards are sporting from the waist down these days, reverting to the Spain shorts of the ‘80s (below) and looking much snazzier than the navy option they sometimes go for.

The BBC pundits reckoned their kit was the only area they could pick fault with but I disagree, Spain’s strip looks classy and is a fairly unique colour scheme. I’m still not sure why they include blue in their kit and don’t play in the yellow and red of their flag, although the fact they’d look like Galatasaray would put me off, despite it also resembling the Melchester Rovers kit. Generally a good thing…

As with Italy and Holland, who also play in colours not represented on their national flag, it’s probably got something to do with the colours of the Royal House.

It’s easy to memorise this Spanish team as a lot of them have similar names: Xavi, Xabi Alonso, David Silva, David Villa, Capdevilla, Casillas, Pique, Puyol… Then there’s the old peasant revolutionary, Sergio Biscuits sweeping up the crumbs from his Peak Freans Trotsky Assortment.

Switzerland were never given any chance in this game and when you think Phillipe Senderos is a key lynchpin of the side, you assume they’d be easily picked apart. There are no stand-out playmakers in their squad but with tactical guidance from wily old German, Ottmar Hitzfeld (one of only 3 managers to win the Champion’s League with two different teams), they were always likely to dig in and be hard to beat.

Spain started well and seemed to bask in the glow of everyone’s admiration. ‘Its causing Switzerland already problems’, Mick McCarthy eloquently remarked.

Swiss right-back Lichsteiner is apparently known as Forrest Gump due to his eagerness to keep running and he and the rest of his team-mates certainly show ‘nuff willing. Spain never really went close but Silva should’ve done better with his fluffed finish after Puyol’s decent enough header back.

The game came magically to life in the 2nd half when Nkufo found a slither of space between Puyol and Pique, slotted it past a commited Puyol (who got away with a blatant handball), back into the path of the tireless Dirdiyok, leaving a 2-on-1 which Pique lost and although Casillas put a tackle in before he could shoot, the ball hit Pique, now lying prone from being tripped-up by his onrushing keeper and kicked in the temple by Derdiyok to leave St. Etienne’s Gelson Fernandes with a crafty prod-in and Pique with a bloodied head. Well, well, well… A messy old goal from a Spanish perspective but, as Big Barnsley Mick Mac said; “There’s different ways of scorsing a goal”.

Torres finally came on and certainly showed more go-forward than the ineffective David Silva Dream Racer and then Alonso made the goal shudder with a 70th minute stonker but Switzerland dealt with everything admirably well. Grichting and Eggimann (on for the injured Senderos) got the ball the hell out whenever Spain threatened to threaten and, when Derdiyok hit the post after trying a bit of the Ricky Villas, shimmying his way into position, it helped make their victory all the more deserved.

Although Spain are likely to win their next two games against Honduras and Chile, this was a great result for Switzerland and the World Cup in general; a genuine shock and a really watchable game.

Just shows you… Another well-drilled team of relative nobodies beating a disjointed-looking collection of uniquely gifted individuals.

Considering it was the host nation playing in a must-win game, the atmosphere during South Africa v Uruguay match sounded pretty shit. The ZazuRosieVelas were honking as half-heartedly as the players’ on-field efforts. There were plenty of mentions in commentary for Fulham midfielder Kagisho Dikgacoi whose surname, when spelt phonetically, reads like a list of the three things I’d be least keen to have in my mouth; Dick, Ash, Wee.

Diego Forlan was awesome, as he almost always has been since escaping from Stalag Stretford. The first Uruguayan superstar since the sunken-eyed schemer Enzo Francescoli (pictured), although I was always a big fan of Alvaro Recoba.Forlan looked relaxed in possession, skilful and elusive and an inspiration to his colleagues, looking extremely convincing as a national talisman. Chris Coleman said; “Forlan’s running this game, he could play in his slippers”, but is he as good as me at watching games in his slippers? I’ve had plenty of practice this last week.

Forlan scored a great opening goal- an audacious and refreshingly on-target effort- and what at first appeared to be wayward movement of the ball over the keeper and under the bar proved, in actual fact, to be a cruel nick off the defender’s shoulder.

When the keeper, Khune, was sent off after conceding a penalty which Forlan aimed at a postage stamp stuck right in the top corner, the game was over but still, I was impressed with Uruguay’s approach. They didn’t try to sit back and protect their lead and were confident enough to keep beavering away and wearing South Africa down, perfectly illustrated by the injury time corner that, instead of opting to waste time and hem himself in, Forlan decided to sling over a teasing ball, retrieved the clearance, whipped in another belting cross to the back post and Perez squared it for Alvaro Pereira to bundle in a third.

The stadium was half-empty by then, most fans wandering off after the demoralising 2nd goal/sending-off double whammy. Disappointingly so, if you ask me. I know they’re disgruntled football fans the same as any others, but what do they expect? They’re the lowest-ranked host nation ever and could still get through this group.

If I was a South African supporter, I’d savour every moment, be grateful for being able to attend a World Cup game and wouldn’t want to leave in case I missed an absolutely scorching consolation goal, a full-scale fist fight or some other crazy World Cup moment. But then I never leave early at the footy. Perhaps they couldn’t cope with the ignominy of being thrashed by a country Homer Simpson pronounces ‘You are gay’…