Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#11

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Paraguay carried on from their impressive showing against Italy with a trouble-free win over Slovakia. On 27 minutes, Enrique Vera (above) clipped one past the keeper with the outside of his boot after being threaded through down the middle and they finally made it safe with 4 minutes to go, Riveros belting the ball home as it squirmed to him after two Paraguayans got in each other’s way. Slovakia’s first attempt on target came around the 90-minute mark and the sloppy Slovaks really need to play a lot better than this to beat the Italians in their final game.
Or perhaps they won’t, due to the continually unconvincing performance of the Azzuri. Considering Serie A used to be the best, most envied league in the world during the last 20 years of the previous century, there is now nothing at all beguiling or even eminently watchable about the Italian national side and their boring domestic competition. Are they really the World Cup holders? Incumbent Champions? World’s best footballing nation only 4 years ago?? I can’t remember a time when there were so many unfamiliar names on the Italian team sheet. I consider myself to be reasonably knowledgable about football but I really have no idea who Marchetti, Criscito, Pepe, Marchisio or Montolivo are or who they play for, while most of those on the bench are not even household names in their own households. I’d usually feel a slight wave of shame that my interest has waned, get the urge to correct this and endeavour to follow Serie A on ESPN next season but I‘d rather stab rusty nails into my eyeballs than follow Italian footie. This is a scandal-ridden nadir for Calcio Italiano; Internazionale may have won the Champions’ League but tellingly, they didn’t have any Italian players in their side.

Some half-hearted mumbling along to their tuneless dirge of a national anthem set the tone in the ‘miniature San Siro’-like Mbombela Stadium in Nelspruit and New Zealand took a shock lead after only seven minutes after some lax defending by the Italians. Another of Simon Elliott’s accurately looped free kicks into the box was flicked on by Winston Reid (goalscoring hero of their first game) and a grateful Shane Smeltz, who can boast the illustrious likes of AFC Wimbledon and Halifax Town on his playing CV, poked it past Marchetti from 3 yards. All this after coach Marcello Lippi had highlighted set-pieces and their aerial power as the All-Whites’ greatest strength.
Caligiari keeper Marchetti is between the sticks for Italy because of an injury to first choice 100-cap veteran Gianluigi Buffon, who will instead have to make do with spending more time with his other half, Czech glamour model Alena Seredova (pictured).

I’m sure he’ll manage…

The Kiwis continued to apply themselves well, especially in defence with Reid and Blackburn skipper Ryan Nelsen holding firm while Paston, the keeper, made some good stops, having being rather lucky at times in their first match. Tony Lochhead had another good game, too. Shame Leeds have only just bought a new left-back as somebody should snap this fella up, he really looks the part and surely wouldn’t cost much. He did well in the 25th minute when hassling his man inside the box without resorting to a clumsy challenge and soon after, had the presence of mind to attack the ball and get it clear just as two Italians were both caught stalling.

Later, Nelsen was lucky not to deflect a Montolivo bender into the net with his knee, the ball instead thumping against the post then Italy finally drew level when De Rossi won a dodgy penalty, converted by Iaquinta. There was the slightest suggestion of a finger-and-thumb pinch of the shirt as the cross came in but De Rossi only collapsed to the ground once the defender had let go and it was clear he wasn’t gonna reach the ball. What a shame for New Zealand. Is this what people mean when they talk about ‘experience’? The Kiwis’ supposed lack of it and the Italians’ superior knowledge of how best to fool the referee for their own gain? Cheating Italian bandits. Thankfully, New Zealand hung on and might’ve won it right at the end when West Brom teenager Chris Wood fired one just wide of the post.

In the enticing eveing game, we had the first ever meeting between Brazil and Côte d’Ivoire and the Ivorians must’ve wished they’d been handed a less demanding game than this to size up their illustrious opponents for the first time. I feel for them actually; rated the African team most likely to succeed, they find themselves in a cruelly difficult group and, due to their ambling, lacklustre showing against an equally cautious Portugal, defeat here against the second favourites would see them with one bum cheek on the aeroplane seat back home.
Brazil should’ve been 1-0 up within the first 45 seconds when Robinho broke suddenly and opted to shoot on the run from 30 yards when slotting Luis Fabiano in seemed the better selection. The action subsided after that though, Mark Lawrenson commenting; “When Barnsley were in the Premier League, they used to sing ‘it’s just like watching Brazil’… well, it’s more like watching Barnsley at the moment”. I was disappointed that Lawro didn’t grasp the obvious ‘bad pun’ opportunity that presented itself by saying something along the lines of; ‘…it was actually Maicon who made that tackle. I did say that earlier, I just didn’t have my Maicon.’ That would’ve been hilarious, as I’m sure you’ll agree.
Just enough room here for the obligatory gratuitous photo of hot Brazilian girls:

To be fair, I don’t think there’s a great deal to fear about this Brazil side. We already know all about their key performers; Robinho, Gilberto Silva and Elano (who’s been a flop at Galatasaray) from their time in the Premiership while Kaka hasn’t really looked the part at trophyless Real Madrid this season, certainly not in the awe-inspiring, talismanic way the best player in a Brazil side invariably does. Even the misfiring former Arsenal brute, Julio Baptista has managed to get himself a place in this current squad.

Having said all that, Brazil still did what Brazil usually do and opened the scoring in impressive fashion. Luis Fabiano back-heeled the ball to Kaka who slipped it beyond the lunging Kolo Toure back into Fabiano’s path who hammered it into the roof of the net from an acute angle in a finish not too dissimilar to Landan Donovan’s against Slovenia. In the second half, Luis Fabiano doubled Brazil’s advantage when he flicked and juggled his way around 3 Ivorian defenders and tucked it away like he was having a kickabout in his Speedos on Copacabana beach. However, the replay showed quite clearly that he’d controlled the ball with his arm twice on his way to scoring. Once the goal had been given, another replay showed the ref asking him if he’d handballed it. Luis Fabiano’s none-more-innocent response elicited a cheeky satisfied smile from the corrupt/visually-impaired clueless twat in the middle. A scandalous decision really as the game was up for the Africans after that. Godspeed the video referee is all I can say, not wanting to rant on about it.
Kaka had a reasonably quiet game but showed glimpses of skill and still managed to set up two goals, Brazil’s third coming after Kaka shilly-shallied his way into the box and squared for Elano to stroke home with a lovely first touch, diverting the ball into the corner without breaking stride. Kaka was later sent off for the first time in his career for two ridiculously soft quick-fire yellow cards and Drogba’s late flicked header did nothing other than ensure Gervinho’s tenacious efforts in setting him up didn’t go unrewarded and I suppose it marginally improves their goal difference. Les Côte d’Ivoirians better hope Brazil beat Portugal and then, after cancelling out one another, they both need to batter the Koreans to see who steps into second place in the dreaded ‘Group Of Death’.

Mwahahahahahaa!

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#10

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Holland, along with Argentina, became the only team to win their opening two games with a 1-0 win o’er the Japs. They had to work hard for it and Japan, keeping possession patiently, looked assured and determined not to lose. It seemed they might succeed until Wesley Sneijder’s bullet from the edge of the box bamboozled Kawashima, who could only pat-a-cake it off his gloves and into the opposite side of his goal in another apparent goalie’s gaff. Kawashimi redeemed himself with two other fine saves to keep Japan in it and they could’ve snatched a deserved draw when Okazaki just volleyed over late on. That sets up a delicious-looking ‘winner takes all’ decider in Japan’s next game with Denmark.

Australia looked about as convincing- and as wobbly- as this Aussie woman’s fake funbags (above) in their opening game but they’ll consider themselves lucky not to win against Ghana as it was a more committed and much-improved performance- not as if they could’ve played worse than they did against the Germans. All told, they’ll have to happy with a point having played 3/4 of the game with ten men, Kewell being rightly dismissed for stopping a certain Johnathan Mensah goal on the line with his outstretched arm. Gyan’s successful penalty conversion cancelled out Brett Holmans’s early opener and made sure Ayew’s skill and tenacity in setting up Mensah’s original strike didn’t go unrewarded.

Is it possible for Brett Holman (pictured) to be any more Australian? You can just see him finishing off and crushing a tin of VB before coming on as sub wearing cut-off denim shorts and he probably wrestles crocs as part of his strength and conditioning training.

The Danes’ match against Cameroon was probably the best so far, in terms of exhaustive action and sheer unpredictability. Cameroon were handed a goal on a silver platter when the half-asleep Christian Poulsen received a risky short ball from Sorensen and gave it away to Webo, who squared for the grateful Eto’o to slam it home. Not long after though, a rampaging Rommedahl controlled Kjaer’s 60-yard Hollywood ball from the back on his chest and slotted a lovely ball into the fabled ‘corridor of uncertainty’ for Bendtner to slide in and notch an equaliser. Denmark nearly repeated their earlier gift to Cameroon when Eto’o hit the post after another perilous pass from the keeper went awry then, in a fairly breathless end-to-end game, Tomasson may have put them in front. Denmark did nudge ahead in the 2nd half when roadrunner Rommedahl scampered down the right, easily cut inside the defender and belted a simple-looking but brilliantly-taken shot wide of the goalie’s right glove and into the net.

This result confirmed Holland’s qualification into the 2nd round but it’s a real stinker for the tournament that an African team has failed to progress, the ‘Indomitable Lions’ of Cameroon becoming the first country to be eliminated.
Speaking of real stinkers, you must’ve seen this ludicrous advert for Right Guard X-Treme, where this sweaty bastard is ostracised by his well-groomed buddies who all slope off to watch the game on the crummy portable in the kitchen instead:

On another unrelated visual theme, I have been enjoying the super slo-mo action replays in this World Cup. They sometimes show random, wholly unnecessary replays but, when slowed down frame-by-frame, legs colliding together in crunching tackles look especially painful and even simple headers by centre-halves look pretty unpleasant when you see the facial muscles contorting as the force of the ball hitting the head causes the whole face to wobble. Even with these apparently lightweight 99p flyaway seaside promenade Jabulani balls.

The pictures appear to be FIFA’s own, as their logo flashes up before and after every replay. FIFA have always had cameras there filming footage to be edited for their always-excellent Official World Cup Films but they seem to have embraced the technological HD revolution with this one. The amount of money they’ve made from selling TV rights across the world beggars belief, but it’s warming to know that even underpriveliged countries unused to football on TV can actually get to see the World Cup.
Unless you live in Somalia, that is. Check this scandalous state of affairs out:
BBC News – Somali militants threaten World Cup TV viewers

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#9

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First dilemma of the day was where to watch the England v Algeria match. I’d seen the USA game on the field of Headingley Cricket Ground, watching on the country’s biggest stadium screen but went to the Academy gig venue in Leeds for this one.
It sounded good… a few beers, friday night, meet up with some mates, a few thousand people, great atmosphere, celebrating an impressive win…
Yeah, right.

I turned to my mate after about 20 minutes and asked him; ‘Is it too early to start singing ‘what a load of rubbish’..?’ That sinking feeling kicked in and the realisation slowly hit you that we’re really going to struggle to get anything out of this match.
But Why?? England’s main problem is that we play gripped by a sense of fear and the weight of expectation suffocates the players. Those that are chosen want to do just enough to justify not being dropped for the next game, nobody is prepared to try anything creative or daring in case it doesn’t come off, the mistake then leads to a goal and that player never plays for his country again.

It’s you, the public’s fault…! There really needs to be more people like me in England. I am the national team’s biggest critic, never expect them to do anything other than apply themselves well in defeat and cannot understand why we’re constantly regarded among the favourites to win it. I did expect more than this shower of shite, though. Players just seem to lose the ability to control a football or pass in a straight line with the correct amount of weight behind the ball. Simple schoolboy basics are just lost in a gibbering, quivering show of nervous wreckitude.

We’re usually shit at World Cups and it’ll be at least 48 years of hurt should we even qualify for Brazil ’14. We failed to qualify at all in ’74, ’78 and ’94 and, even in the World Cups we’ve played in, we rarely looked convincing. Since Spain ’82, when we actually went home unbeaten after conceding just one goal and were only a stupid Keegan perm-flick away from the semis, we’ve only played well and looked like we might be eventual winners in just three games, all 3-0 victories; against Poland and Paraguay in ’86 and in the 2nd round vs. Denmark in 2002. Usually, the group stages prove especially troublesome, and then we later get beat by a better team.
Here’s the facts about our other World Cup points-winning expertise:
1986– Lost 1-0 to a shabby Portugal side then drew 0-0 with Morocco.
1990– Scraped draws with the Irish and the Dutch then were lucky to narrowly beat Egypt, Belgium and Cameroon.
1998– Laboured wins over Tunisia and Columbia sandwiched a defeat to Romania.
2002– Drew twice and got away with a squeaky-bummed win over Argentina, thanks to a dodgy penalty.
2006– Turgid 1-0 yawnfest vs. Paraguay, needed late goals to spare blushes against Trinidad and Tobago, drew twice then spluttered to a jammy 2nd round win over Ecuador.
Not exactly a formidable record over the last 25-30 years.

It really is a lot easier just to consider the past and how often you’ve been let down and expect them to win nothing as usual. I can wholeheartedly recommend it. Considering I’m a bit obsessed with football shirts and used to collect them when I was younger, I’ve never owned an England shirt. I took my dad’s Euro ’96 one on holiday in Turkey with me that year but have never felt the compulsion to buy one, because I don’t feel that much of a connection to be honest. Supporting Leeds is infuriating enough without having two lots of hopes and dreams frequently crushed. I just feel an England shirt is a bit too much like a knobhead beacon. I know that’s unfair on many lovely, rationally-minded people but the knobheads have hijacked the England shirt in much the same way as Nazis hijacked the Union Jack and made displaying it feel uncomfortable.

England’s travelling army (most of ‘em anyway) have only recently got their heads around the fact that the Union Jack isn’t England’s flag. It’s nice to see so many St. George flags nowadays but it used to annoy me, even as a kid watching Mexico ’86 games at daft o’clock, to see so many Union Jacks. It also annoys me that we stand for ‘God Save The Queen’ before games. That’s the anthem of the United Kingdom; we don’t really have one in the same way Scotland have ‘Flower Of Scotland’ and Wales have ‘Land Of My Fathers’ but England’s unofficial anthem, ‘Land Of Hope & Glory’ would be more suitable and is far more rousing a song anyway, although you would have to hand out lyric sheets at first if it were ever to change.

I’m swelling with pride watching this clip, I really am!

I also had a bugbear with England wearing blue shorts when there’s no blue on England’s flag but the FA and Umbro have addressed that with our new all-white ‘tailored’ kit. It’s not even a lack of patriotic pride. I’m proud to be English but just don’t always feel the need to do what the English are expected to do. Like: behave disrespectfully when abroad, harbour a blind unreasoning hatred for the Scots, Welsh, Irish, French, Americans… (fill the rest of the world’s countries in yourself) and foolishly expect us to conquer the sporting world. I even like Germans!

The Algerian coach said before the game that he’d rather be coaching Algeria than England because his players have good morals. A bit cheeky, perhaps, but it had me thinking exactly what people from other cultures must think of us and the players that represent us. Churlish, boorish, shag-happy booze-guzzling monsters who think nothing of nobbing their mate’s missus or brazenly squandering their astronomically excessive salaries on prostitutes and high-level gambling. We probably don’t come across that well in Algeria, or anywhere else for that matter.
Does any other country actually like us??!

It’s pointless discussing the game as there was little to be positive about in what was the worst England display I’ve seen at a World Cup. The biggest cheer of the night came when David James collected a corner kick without dropping it. That’s what we were reduced to.
The fall-out from the game has made it all the more sour. Especially the totally ineffective Rooney getting his mad up and making sure we all heard him say what he thought of ‘getting booed by your home supporters’. Well, they’re not ‘home’ supporters, Wayne. It might feel like a home game but that’s because several thousand people have skinted themselves and taken out loans they’re unsure they’ll be able to pay back just to travel thousands of miles to watch you decide you’re not up for it.

Then there’s the much-vaunted ‘big meeting’, John Terry telling us all they’re gonna sort it out by putting Capello straight and then Capello coming out and saying Terry’s made ‘a big mistake’ and is alone in thinking that way (or rather he’s alone in being bold enough to say what he’s thinking).
On a positive slant, most countries seem to be having a tricky time of it, we are still unbeaten and just need to win one game of football in order to progress, move on and learn from the horrorshow we’ve put on so far.
Changes will be made, I assume, so let’s see what changes they bring about.
I blogged after the USA game that there was ‘no need to panic, save that for friday night’, but I wasn’t being entirely serious. Just shows you that, when it comes to England, being prepared for disappointment is the best way.

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#8

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I was glad when Germany got beat but not just for the obvious reasons you’d expect from ein Englander. Since they hammered Australia, everyone’s been sucking their teeth and shaking their heads worryingly in anticipation of another German surge to glory. Their record is something to envy, mind. Appearing in 5 out of the last 8 finals and with a couple of 3rd-place finishes along the way, they just know how to put it together in major tournaments. They did look convincing winners and it was clear their players, many of whom have underperformed for their clubs this season, are able to gel in the national set-up but it was only one game- against ten Aussies, remember– but still, national newspaper Bild were compelled to boom: “We’re going to blow you all away” and even Danny Baker appeared on a BBC panel spouting; ‘I can’t see Germany conceding as much as a corner on their way to the final’.
All that changed when Klose was- quite unjustly- sent off for accidental trips resulting from two innocuous attempts to win back the ball. Not long after, Serbia went ahead after Krasic chased a perfectly-weighted ball down the line, lobbed over a cross which proved impossible to defend against and once Jigic cushioned his header intelligently into new Liverpool signing, Jovanovic’s path, he had a real job on to miss from 3 yards.
The Germans pressed and went close several times but even when Vidic conceded a penalty for another daft handball (as in Serbia’s first game against Ghana), Podolksi’s lame saved effort affirmed that this wasn’t going to be Germany’s day. For a nice change. Good to see them get their arses kicked anyway, for the good of the tournament, not just for my sense of shadenfraude.

Podolski’s was the first penalty they’ve missed in the World Cup, either in a shoot-out or open play, since Uli Stielike missed in the ’82 semi-final (which they won 5-4 on penalties anyway, so it didn’t even matter!)
A classic game, always worth a watch if you have time…

Classy shirt the Yanks are rocking these days. A long way from their awful ‘faded-denim effect with white stars’ abomination they wore when hosting it in ’94

You don’t see many diagonally-striped shirts these days, although Man City did a fine job of resurrecting an old ’70s favourite last year.

Here’s two other fine diagonal-stripe shirts, Sheffield United away ’75-’76 and Crystal Palace home ’77-’80 (pictured left). Nice, eh?

I expected the States to win this easily so it was a shock to see Slovenia lead 2-0 at half-time. Valter Birsa hit a wonderfully-struck 25-yard opener then a second came when the US defence was carved open up the middle with 2 simple passes, Ljubijankic slotting the ball under Howard.

After the break, the Americans did a fabulous job of pulling their fingers out and getting back into the game. Landan Donovan was set free down the right, entered the penalty area and smashed one into the roof of the net from an acute angle. A great goal and typical of the US skipper, who impressed during his short stay with Everton this year. He’s a clever, quick-thinking player who often receives the ball not looking like he quite knows what to do with it, before suddenly sparking into action and having the ability to pull off what he’s opted to do.

USA got their just reward when the coach’s son, Michael Bradley ran onto an Altidore knock down to prod in an equaliser and there was absolutely nothing wrong with Edu’s late disallowed goal; nobody was offside and it was the USA players who were being wrestled and tugged. Snatching a winner may have been unfair on the Slovenians, however and a draw was probably a fair result, certainly a more palatable one for England.
Ah, yes…. England are up next…

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#7

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The strangely compulsive pleasure you get from watching players stand for the national anthems was heightened by the sight of Kim Yung-Woo, the only South Korean player who feels the need to salute. There’s a tasty bit of previous between the two coaches. Huh Jung-Moo aggressively man-marked Maradona when the two countries met at Mexico ’86, Maradona saying South Korea’s brand of football closer to tae kwon do than anything (see above). Both players scored against Italy in the group stages too. The Koreans are a much better footballing side than that mauling mob of Mexico but Yeom Ki-Hun, who plays for the delightfully-named Suwon Bluewings, was quick to put in a rugby tackle to assert their physical intentions.
I hope it won’t be construed as lazy racism if I admit I can’t get my head around Korean players’ names. There’s that many Kims, Lees, Jungs and Parks… it’s like the English team sheet reading:
1). Mark John Steve
2). John Steve Mark
3). John Mark Dave
4). Steve Dave John… with a cheeky wildcard thrown in, like;
5). Steve Emile Micah.
They (or rather I) can’t decide which way the names are supposed to be said either, not really knowing whether Ji-Sung Park or Park Ji-Sung is leading the team out. He has J-S PARK on his back for (lower case to denote unimportance) man utd but he’s got JISUNG on his back at this World Cup (and now they’ve done away with the hyphens!)
Come on, South Korea… Sort it out!
They had a lot to sort out on the pitch after an unlucky own goal off the shin of the oblivious Park Chu-Yong (or Chu-Yong Park) and a poxy downward header from Higuain which the keeper should’ve clawed away. The Argies deserved their lead, though, controlling the pace, successfully getting Messi into the game and working hard when required, as illustrated by Tevez’s rabid pitbull-style chasing after giving the ball away, eventually wrestling back possession and managing to successfully shield the ball from two Korean players whilst down on all fours. A bit like a pitbull, really.
Just as the overhead wire-cam had picked out all the litter and rubbish on the pitch, Argentina, or specifically Demichellis, gifted South Korea a rubbish goal, prompting a pigeon-worrying cat to briefly emerge and have a bit of a prowl during half-time. That turned out to be the only fault you could pick with this performance, as they notched two more goals from rapid counter-attacks stemming from defence of their own goal, Higuain tapping-in a hat-trick thanks to Messi’s positive industry to become the tournament’s top scorer. A very convincing start from Los Gauchos Del Diego, first team to win both games and looking like a decent bet at the 7/1 I got.

There were a few wayward, seemingly over-hit passes in this game which led to more boring discussion about the Adidas Jabulani ball. I wondered if it wasn’t the pitch’s surface making what seemed to be reasonably-weighted passes skimming away from intended recipients and out of play. I haven’t seen any evidence of it swerving erratically but that doesn’t stop commentators blabbing on about it, which they do at every single World Cup. Adidas supply a different new-and-improved ball every time and here’s a fascinating history of those very balls. Viva el Tango..!

Official World Cup Match Balls

Nice to see Lars Lagerback in charge of Nigeria; the only coach named after what I had last Saturday when Gerrard scored and some numpty behind me chucked tepid Carlsberg everywhere. If Nigeria do poorly at this World Cup, you’d hope their headline-writing newspaper editors aren’t as pun-happy as ours; with a Shittu and an Odiah (pronounced ‘oh dear’) playing at the back, they’d have field day. They started well enough; Kala Uche’s arching free kick into the ‘danger area’ of legend boinked straight in, as the keeper seemed to jump out of the way of the ball. Possible headline: Uche Coochie Man Seals It For Super Eagles. Greece couldn’t really get any worse than the way they played in the first game and were helped massively when Kaita, off the field after contesting a throw-in, aimed a needless studs-up kick at Torosidis, who dropped to the floor, made the requisite meal of it, then got straight back up again once Kaita had been dismissed, walking off in shame with his green shirt covering his face, making him look like a spooky African tribal mask approximation of the Incredible Hulk.


He’s already received 1,000 death threats in Nigeria, via email, in amongst the usual messages pleading for the loan of your bank details to help some deposed African prince or other. Kaita said; “I am not worried about it. Only god decides who lives and who dies. Everybody has their own destiny on this earth.” Sorted. No need to worry then.
Things then got worse for Nigeria when Salpingidis’ 20-yard shot clipped off a defender’s heel and looped in over the keeper. In the 2nd half, after a great point-blank save from Nigeria keeper, Enyeama and the ref allowing Nigeria to play on after a reckless Greek lunge, Obasi found himself spearheading a quick 3-on-1 counter attack, fed Yakubu, whose shot was palmed back into Obasi’s path but he inexplicably slotted the ball wide of the empty goal.
Greece snatched it with 20 minutes to go when Torosidis followed in to prod home after Enyeama had RobertGreen’d a fairly weak Karagounis strike. It was unlucky on the keeper, who’d performed well in both games but must’ve felt his heart was being strangled as he looked up at his own disheartened face and the unnecessary close-up & zoom-out of his guilty goalkeeping glove being cruelly beamed on the stadium’s big screen.
A surprisingly engrossing game though and that shakes the group up again.

After such a limp performance in their opening game, France’s display in their 2-0 defeat to Mexico threw up even more questions of the ‘What the hell is wrong with them?’ ilk. Another toothless and strangely disinterested showing from the French that had you suspecting, unpopular and universally-disliked though the coach is, deeper problems must be at the root of all this; Raymond Domenech looked steely and distant throughout, exuding apparent indifference to how poorly his players were performing, leaning against the dug-out with an air of blasé apathy too palpable even for a Frenchman, while the substitutes warmed up behind the goal, so they could have a good old gossip.
What’s emerged since has confirmed what everyone suspected. Renowned sulkypants, Nicolas Anelka told Domenesch at half-time to ‘go fuck yourself, you son of a whore’, supposedly in response to being asked to keep his position upfront and stop dropping deep, and has since been sent home from the tournament. The players have now rebelled and come out in support of Anelka as a counter-swipe to the Domenech-supporting French Football Federation, whose vice-president said; “If those exact words were said, I can’t understand why he was still on the practice pitch on Friday, he ought to have been expelled straight away… he can’t be continuing in a France jersey.” Oh dear, trouble at t’mill, or rather ‘difficulté à la moulin’.
Patrice Evra, who tore off and threw down his captain’s armband at the end of this game, then had a row with their fitness coach who, in turn, dramatically threw away his stopwatch and FIFA accreditation badge as the players refused to train and then sent Domenech out in front of the cameras to read the statement they’d collectively cobbled together on the team coach. I bet poor Ray can’t wait to get home, leave the post he’s held against the French people’s wishes and let incoming coach Laurent Blanc sort all this petulant nonsense out.
As Gary Lineker quipped on the BBC; ‘Good news for England… we’re not France.’


The French media are also saying Domenesh was tactically inept in choosing not to play Malouda in the first game (which led to another angry training-ground spat) and for playing the out-&-out pacy winger, Franck Ribery in a central playmaking role not conducive to exploiting his best qualities.
Ribery was this week unfairly included in a photo-shopped studio audience shot of random ugly people that The Sun put together to illustrate a story about how Simon Cowell is trying to ban mingers from the X-Factor audience. Unfair because Ribery’s facial disfigurement is as a result of two huge scars he got when involved in a serious car accident when he was only 2 years old. Interestingly enough, he’s also converted to Islam, as his wife is a Muslim, and has taken the name Bilal Yusuf Mohammed. You could say playing him in centre midfield isn’t a very good ‘yusuf’ his footballing skills…! ‘Yusuf’… ‘use of’… Geddit?!
Sorry, but I was determined to end on a terrible pun- as France look to end their terrible run.
That one was better than the ‘Mohammed, Allez!’ I was gonna use.

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#6

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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’…

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#5

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nzslov

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-1200Lochy

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.

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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.
Unknown-1PGabrielIt’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…

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#4

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The early game on day four was Holland Vs. Denmark; the clash of the big strapping athletic lads, supported by big strapping, hugely attractive lasses.

A decent enough match-up in which the Dutch, although not asserting their superiority with ruthless potency, certainly showed glimpses of what they’re capable of. I have another bet on Holland to win it (at a very generous 10/1) and it could well be their year. In the past, they’ve had better teams and more sought-after star players than at present but, despite their skillful, all-action approach to the game, have never before won the World Cup and usually fail to deliver due to too many internal clashes of self-regarding ‘better than thou’ players’ egos.

It appears those self-aggrandising problem players have been cleared out with coach Bert Van Marwijk’s new orange broom and it’s now a more palpable sense of greater harmony and a collective will to succeed is evident. Holland didn’t even have a team worthy of note until the turn of the ‘70s, the social and cultural revolutions of the late-‘60s also coinciding with a footballing one in the Netherlands, but they faltered twice in two successive ‘70s World Cup finals when they had a chance to create a dynasty and go down in football history as something more than ‘the best team never to win the World Cup’ (Magnificent Magyars aside, perhaps).

This World Cup has seen a hugely disappointing lack of pervy cameramen and TV editors picking out all the hotties in the crowd. They were mad for it at France ’98 and Germany ’06 (dirty Europeans!) This game was a prime opportunity to have a good ogle at de pretty Danske damen und fraulein das Nederlanden. You can be sure of eeet! The Danes have no reason to worry just yet. They acquitted themselves reasonably well and both Dutch goals were unlucky on them; a crazy double-edged own goal that came off one of the corners of Simon Poulson’s 50 pence piece-shaped head then deflected off Daniel Agger’s back past a helpless Sørensen and a late goal that deceived covering defenders by coming back off the post and presenting Kuyt with an easy tap-in.
I’ve always wondered about the correct pronunciation of Kuyt’s surname. Some say ‘Kowt’ or ‘Kite’ but, as it’s spelt with a ‘..uy..’, as in Cruyff, you’d assume it’d be pronounced ‘Koyt’. Just to clear things up, it is ‘Kowt’ so you can all sleep soundly now.

Japan Cameroon was another disappointing game. An interesting clash of cultures and styles but not a very productive way to spend 2 hours indoors on a sunny day. I’m glad Japan won, though. Not just because happy Japs are a warming sight to see but it also leaves the group open a bit more. That Japanese coach, Okado, doesn’t look right happy, though. Proper grumpy bugger, looking like he’d be more at home holding a boom mike in the pissing rain, on location with Akira Kurosawa. He clearly has no time for mavericks (i.e. exciting talented players) like the two Nakamuras; Kengo and former Celtic genius, Shunsuke and I reckon his cautiousness might cost them dear in the end. They should have plenty of pace and power, though, seeing as they had a Honda on the pitch and have 3 players employed by Kawasaki. Kawasaki Frontale F.C. that is.

I have to say, I concur with the view that Italy are too old and crusty to retain the World Cup. It was a genuine shock when they won it four years ago and although you can never write them off and they’re just as fit and more experienced than 4 years ago but, when it really matters in the later stages, I just can’t see them having enough in the locker to pull it out of the bag- to drag a couple of football-speak clichés out of another kind of large receptacle in order to make them cross-pollinate into one multifarious Superfootballcliché. You tend to respect Italy rather than fear, admire or fancy them but there was little to admire about this performance. Their age isn’t the sole issue. As Mick McCarthy gruffly said in commentary; ‘When Ireland were at Italia ’90, we were the ‘old father time’ team but it’s not all about just running about’. It’s their lack of creativity and strike power too. They’re never gonna concede a hatful of goals but Italy never thrash teams either, seeming happy to settle for a win by a singular goal and celebrate how efficiently their well-oiled defensive machine performed, rather than how the sharpness of their attacking play rendered their opponents demoralized and deflated.
Paraguay looked pretty good in the first half and certainly didn’t deserve to lose- especially considering the equaliser by the scruffy-looking De Rossi (pictured) came from their own keeper’s dozy error. A bit of a cagey stalemate but neither team should have too many problems getting out of this piss-easy group those jammy Italian cry-babies have found themselves drawn in.

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#3

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Mmmm, Slovenia vs. Algeria: not the most enticing fixture, especially around midday on a Sunday, but you’ve got to size up your next opponents, haven’t ya? This is Algeria’s first World Cup since the ‘80s, back when Notts County’s Rachid Harkouk (pictured right) was their star player.

Slovenia’s not really famous for anything apart from getting regularly confused with Slovakia. Although sinister ‘80s industrialists Laibach were Slovenian (or Yugoslavian up until 1991 of course). They once covered the whole of The Beatles’ ‘Let It Be’ album, from which this fine celestial version of ‘Across The Universe’ is taken:

Slovenia’s not as austere and Slavic as you might assume, bordering both Italy and Austria, and I’m led to believe, Ljubljana (or ‘LJ’ as the cool kids call it) is quite a stylish modern-day capital. Laibach is also the German name for Ljubljana, fact fans! Slovenia’s also noteworthy, in my house anyway, because my mam’s been there half a dozen times on walking holidays in the Julian Alps (whoever he is). It only has 2 million people and just 30,000 registered footballers so beating Africa’s 2nd largest country was an impressive feat. I had time to research all this extraneous info because the game was so stultifyingly dull, by the way.

Slovenia’s away kit in bottle green with hi-vis trim is the worst I’ve seen so far, if only for the wholly unnecessary zig-zag pattern across the chest, reminiscent of the terrible garish excuses for kits that were prevalent in the early-‘90s, football kit design’s nadir, for mine. Promoting the kit’s launch, Nike proudly proclaimed it was; “A design inspired by the hard edges and peaks of the Triglav mountain, a sacred and mythical mountain, where it is said a Slavic god once had his throne, the Triglav boasts the highest peak in Slovenia and forms a central part of the young nation’s identity, featuring on their national flag, coat of arms and currency.”

Rather than the Triglav, it more closely resembles this awful Celtic shirt from about 1992…


Speaking of which, there were 2 guys in the Slovenian end wearing Celtic shirts and waving an Irish tricolour bearing the legend; ‘Fintan Murray Ate My Cheeseburger’.

I googled Fintan Murray and a Facebook profile came up, so I sent him a message to find out if this cheeseburger-gobbling claim was true. It must be him, how many Fintans are there out there? Let’s see if he replies.

After Ghezzal’s stupid sending-off for diving and handballing unnecessarily, Algeria looked even worse and then West Brom’s Koren was allowed lawns of space, not closed down on the edge of the box and rolled it into the corner past the clumsy Eminem-worshipping chav Algeria had shoved in nets who clearly must’ve got the ‘Shot-Stopping With Robert Green’ DVD for Christmas.

I watched the Serbia v Ghana game but did often wonder why I was bothering. Another dull game enlivened by somebody being punished for being stupid, a handball again being the game-changing moment but this time for a needlessly-conceded penalty that Gyan joyfully slotted away. I was chuffed for Ghana. Without sounding patronising, it clearly meant a lot more to them and their country’s general goodwill than it does for England or any other of the rich European favourites.

You couldn’t help but be charmed and swept away by the level to which they celebrated such a dour spectacle and they certainly seem an infectiously jolly bunch of good vibe merchants. I wish they’d have qualified in the ‘90s when we might’ve seen the great Tony Yeboah on the biggest stage. Any excuse to re-live these babies… You can see me behind the goal on the replay of the Liverpool one…

Gotta say, for such a supposedly butch nation, their national anthem, ‘Advance Australia Fair’ is an awful simpering wartime power ballad-show tune more representative of Sydney’s abundant gay population than the heroic sporting warrior-types they like to think they embody. Their performance in this game was particularly limp but the Germans made them look like school kids. It was a real lesson in how to dominate inferior opposition.

A smashing opening goal from the Germans too, clever build-up and a proper no-nonsense finish and after that, faultless, apart from a couple of sitters missed by Klose (yes, he should’ve got a lot ‘Klose’ to the goal… I thought it before Adrian Chiles said it at half-time) which would’ve seen ‘em notch up a cricket score, deservedly so. Why do England never put in a performance like this at the World Cup? Frighteningly effective, even without Michael Ballack, ominously determined-looking, all 4 strikers scored and they were all smart finishes from simple, direct build-ups. 

Einfache, direkte und effective… Ich wisch eider putter betton Deutschland nau.

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Lovely away kit the Aussies are rocking this season, looking more like Leeds Rhinos training gear, of which I am also quite fond but, smart though their jerseys are, the overall performance of the sun-worshipping show-offs wearing them was the very dampest of squibs.
Can I lay claim to being the first to call them Awfulstralia…?

Beer-swilling couch potato World Cup blog…#2

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Day 2, Saturday 12th June.
First snigger of the day was provided when Alice came in to feign interest for a bit. Seeing SKO v GRE on the screen, she enquired; ‘Who’s playing in this one then..? Greece and… Sko…Skolenia? No… Skotland? No… South Korea!’, finally twigging when she saw a close-up of Lee Jung-Soo. Skolenia indeed.
First televisual World Cup image of the day was a chubby mascot waiting in the tunnel while fiddling around with his scrag-end. He must’ve picked it up from watching the professionals at it.
Greece, it quickly transpired, were awful. Clueless and disorganised in defence, with the odd unforgivable lapse of concentration thrown in for good measure, while elsewhere on the pitch, they were just gawping gormlessly at the team-mate who was about to receive the ball, to see if they had any idea what to do with it. No cohesion, no ideas, no composure, no nowt.
Good on the Koreans for taking advantage. The second goal was a marvellous finish but came from a pub side-standard defensive error and Greece’s best player, Gekas, really did look like a pub player, with his podgy frame, wayward shooting and heavily-strapped knee niggle.
I’ve got a bet on Argentina to win it and they did nothing to make me change my mind against Nigeria. Not a great deal to vindicate my hunch either, to be honest, but it was the best game so far (or the lesser of five evils) and, despite the lack of goals, there were plenty of chances. Messi wasn’t on fire but showed enough to convince you he’s poised, like a coiled spring, ready to come to life and make this World Cup his own when the nitty-gritty kicks in. The way he’s been playing for the last few years would suggest he’s a better chance of winning it almost single-handedly as Maradona had in ’86. Watch this space. Or rather watch Maradona. There really should be a MaradonaCam option, it’s so entertaining to watch his reactions. Even more so now, with his proud revolutionary beard. I know it’s practically our birthright to hate Argentina and Maradona especially but I just can’t. He was a genius footballer, he’s as mad as a box of frogs and you’ve got to admire his passion, his bluntness and just his magnetic allure, his charisma. I want to know what he’s doing now, what he said and how he behaved in his last press conference. And he could be the magic ingredient Argentina need when developing a siege mentality and a burning will to win when it matters.
And so to England… Should we really have expected anything other than a hollow disappointing feeling and another disheartening display. Great early goal, Heskey winning over his doubters with a fine ball into Stevie G, la, but the way we sat back and treaded water after that was disappointing. As was Robbish Green’s lousy error, if only because that infernal goalkeeping position has been the one area we might not be considered strong in and to have the reasons why humiliatingly stripped bare so early on in the tournament was a right sickener. What would we give now for a David Seaman/Nigel Martyn or Ray Clemence/Peter Shilton selection conundrum? I hoped it wouldn’t be an issue, recalling that the likes of Brazil and Argentina have won World Cups with unremarkable goalies but there’s just a decent keeper famine going on in England at the moment. I’d have taken, and probably played Paul Robinson instead of James but would rather have seen Hart play than Green. Hart’s been quality all season and should’ve been picked on form, as Capello apparently endeavours to. Whoever played in goal, there can be no excuse for that mistake. Green said ‘It’s hit the outside of one of my thumbs’. Why?! Can he not just stop it with his palms or fingers? He could’ve even stopped it with his foot, it was rolling that slowly. Useless bastard. Nobody made more errors that led directly to goals last season in the Premier League than Robert Green. Is this really the best we’ve got? Chris Kirkland should get the nod ahead of this goon.
Still, not a disaster. I expected this game to be the trickiest of the three, we haven’t lost it and really should’ve won it, blunder aside, Heskey shoulda made it safe. The New York Post certainly seemed happy with a point…!


Not many stand-out performances from our so-called big guns and, worryingly, the centre halves are dropping like flies but no reason to worry just yet. Save that for Friday night.