New Zealand v. Slovakia was one of the least-enticing fixtures in this World Cup and it’s probably only saddoes like me who’ve taken the week off work to watch every game who even bothered with it. I’m glad I did though. The first half was a bit slow but I was impressed with how the All-Whites (good choice of team colours, that) played to their minimal, barely-there strengths, they looked well-organised in defence and every player seemed eager to push themselves hard.

Especially the currently clubless Kiwi captain, Simon Elliott, who worked like a dog and showed some genuine talent when whipping his dead-eyed deliveries into the box. Elliott’s enthusiasm for the sport was energized by the All Whites’ only other World Cup appearance at Spain ‘82. “I think I was maybe 8 years old at the time”, said Elliott, now creaking into his 37th year, “I had the posters, the books, all that kind of crazy stuff. I was getting up early watching the games. It was a real family affair”.

He actually looks like he should be playing at the ’82 World Cup, with his balding blonde frizz of Art Garfunkel-style hair (pictured left).

Another curly-mopped Kiwi caught the eye, Wellington Phoenix’s tall, powerful left-back, Tony Lochhead, who also put over some dangerous crosses and looked solid and assured throughout. I actually really enjoyed watching him do his thing. Did everything right.

Tony Lochhead.  Although he looks more like Tony Mophead in this other photo.

Vittek’s goal was a little cruel and I was genuinely charmed when, in injury time, Smeltz showed great determination and strength to win the ball back then shimmy this way and that to create enough space to whip in another quality ball that glanced nicely off the head of Winston Reid, a young Maori lad who, having being brought up in Denmark, only made himself available for the Kiwis in March, representing the Danes in the Under-21 Championships last year.

This was a truly remarkable result for New Zealand. The quality of their squad is of a worryingly low standard and they could easily have suffered three humiliating thrashings in the group games, but they reminded everyone why the World Cup’s so special. A team of near-amateur players clumsily cobbled together weeks before the tournament can, on any given day, match, and on occasion out-play a hardy team of professionals who qualified ahead of Poland and the Czech Republic. New Zealand now have bragging rights over hapless Australia too, although it’d be wishful thinking to hope this result has put the Aussies straight and shut them up.

Here’s a suitably un-PC round-up of NZ’s last foray into the world of ‘soccer poofs’…

Portugal lined-up with everybody but Ronaldo passionately bellowing out the national anthem, the captain instead choosing to bow his head, so as to distance himself from his way-less-cool team mates embarrassing themselves with some impromptu old codgers’ karaoke.

Portugal have a lovely new away kit based on a classic design of old but they’ve ruined it by breaking up what are two otherwise fantastic vertical stripes with a white block in which to place the players’ numbers. Couldn’t they have put white numbers on the green and red blocks? Tch! Careless kit design and/or stupid FIFA rulings ruining what should be a very stylish-looking shirt. These things matter to me! See what I mean…?! It’s just wrong.

Ronaldo hit the post with a fantastic effort from distance but it’s been 16 long months since this score-at-will goal machine last netted for Portugal. Not a good return from the supposed ‘one man’ in your ‘one-man team’.

The Ivory Coast were tough as old boots, really slamming into tackles and getting right tight up the Portugese arses, as it were. Any team managed by Sven is unlikely to play free-flowing attacking football but they looked impressive none the less. That cutting edge they’re missing should be provided by the apparently fit-again Drogba, whose broken bones you must be able to re-mould as easily as clay and then strengthen by firing in a kiln.
It’d be a shame if Lille’s Gervinho gets dropped in favour of Drogba because he looked a real threat and showed some classy skills. I’d also quite like to see that bizarre balding dreadlock hairstyle of his again. In an odd way, it reminded me of that weird, exaggerated shaved parting that Genesis-era Peter Gabriel was rather fond of sporting.

Fair play to the Ivorian supporters too, their tribal drums of doom and the synchronised patterns they hammered out almost helped drown out the vuvuzelas, and added an ominous edge to their no-nonsense single-minded approach to the game. Portugal to miss out from this supposed ‘group of death’, for my money.

Brazil v North Korea was the first game I missed being shown live, as we had some lovely friends over for a fine evening of nice grub and drinks. I did see the incredible sight of the Korean player bawling his eyes out in pride at hearing the national anthem though. A powerful and thought-provoking image, it had me shaking my head in bewilderment at how someone can be so proud to live in such a restrictive and suppressive country. Vive le difference, eh? Or was he thinking about having to go back home?

I later watched the game on catch-up and wasn’t too impressed with Brazil who were full of errors and lacking a ruthless cutting edge. North Korea were well-organised and effective as a samba-style snuffer-outer and got a decent result out of it, all things considered- especially in a pshychological confidence-boosting sense. The expected result in the end though, albiet with two surprising ‘food for thought’ performances, but it’d be silly to make a proper judgement on either side’s relative chances until their next games are over with.

I don’t really fancy Brazil to win it this year, for some reason. Their key players are nobody to fear, they look perfectly beatable while they don’t ellicit any real sense of dread and don’t play with the panache of Brazil sides of old.
That’ll be your Dunga then.
You never know what could happen of course…

This side WERE immense but still didn’t win it…