Out of Africa

The World Cup quarter finals started in earnest yesterday and for the sake of footballistical quality, as Arsene Wenger would say, England's absence is no bad thing. A.k.a. England are sh*t. Reaction to the 4-1 humiliation at the hands of bitter rivals Germany - I'm not sure the Germans view it in quite the same terms - has been far and wide. Apopletic supporters the land over have since competed over the most emphatic hyperbolic denunciations of England's destitute defending, woeful willpower and managerial maladroitness.

I for one will not enter into such discussions, mostly because I didn't actually see the game. I was, instead, playing the much more elegant, gentlemanly game of cricket, you know, "corking delivery old chap", "had him fishing there", oh, what larks. My current tone is however, heavily tainted by hindsight. At the time, with minutes to go to kick off, roped into a rookie game of cricket, I couldn't have been much more pissed off. Rumours flooded the outfield and the slip cordon of a goal to Germany, then two. A refused plumb lbw had echoes of Lampard's disallowed goal. "It was angling down leg", gestured the ref. "It was a yard over", bellowed right-arm medium-fast, Rooney. "Ask hawkeye!", muttered the cheeky silly-mid-on, stirring a chorus of support from gulley and a wayward third man, quite literally. The third umpire, omnipotent yet powerless, sat silently in the shadows. "We don't believe in technology", stated the Fifa overlord, Blatter, pompously, "but we are genuinely very sorry this has happened".


Sad as it is, I understand there are considerable obstacles to installing video technology into pub cricket. I do not understand why this is the case in professional football. What is perhaps the most frustrating part of this whole debate is the post-mortem response of the Fifa President, Sepp Blatter.

"It is obvious that after the experiences so far at this World Cup it would be a nonsense not to reopen the file on goal-line technology."

Why does any regulation always have to be in reaction to a major incident rather than preempting it? There has been a campaign for goal line technology for years. It would be easy to implement, and unlike freekicks or penalties in open play, would result in a definite answer: goal or no goal. Unless this changes we shall be tormented by zig-zagged goal lines for eternity.

The point still remains that England were awful goal or no goal and inquiries are being made as to why that was, and has so often been, the case. An article by Matt Slater for the BBC and Paul Hayward of the Guardian argue for a new approach following in the footsteps of Germany. Since their disappointing early exit in Euro 2000, the German Football Federation, the FDB, have invested approximately 20m euros per year setting up a network of 366 training centres in collaboration with existing clubs, which trains 14,000 young hopefuls every week. There are an estimated thirteen times as many coaches in Germany as there are in England. The need for serious investment in grassroots football, setting out long term goals is desperately clear. An expensive manager with an impressive CV will not paper over the cracks.

My interest in the World Cup has not waned despite England's exit. The first two quarter finals were brilliant. I enjoyed watching these at home without the sweat and drunkeness of the pub, which tends to drown out any memory of the actual game. Brazil, one of the hot favourites for the tournament, seemed to self-implode after such a domineering first half against the Dutch. I hope Felipe Melo enjoys the next few months of death threats, a la David Beckam, after his tempestuous stamp on Iron Robben.

The match of the tournament however, goes to Uruguay and Ghana. Despite having Forlan in my World Cup fantasy team - score - I felt far greater affinity towards Ghana - just look at that guy, what a character. With just seconds to go of extra time, a fearsome scramble in the area resulted in a deliberate hand ball on the line by Luis Suarez. Asamoah Gyan, whose effort and work rate was immense all night, was left with the responsibility of scoring from the spot. He missed. And although Ghana would have another chance in the shoot out it seemed the football gods had conspired against them. So it proved. I don't really care who goes on to win the World Cup, just that the games can be exciting as that one.

The advertising that has surrounded the World Cup has been largely as expected. The target audience surprise, surprise, has been adult males. During the Uruguay vs Ghana game I can recall adverts for beer, cars, gambling, sony 3D tvs, coca-cola, lucozade sport, pringles, bt and barclays. Based on the soaring profits of ITV for the World Cup month, big companies are forking out huge sums for a spot in the half-time ad-breaks. I'm guessing it must work, but from a personal point of view, I don't feel particularly affected by it - maybe because I'm broke. That said, I did buy a coke the other day but I'm fairly sure it's because I wanted a coke, I like coke, as opposed to the underlying marketing pull. Does it make a difference that it was diet coke with a lime twist? They weren't advertising for that.

My favourite advert, which I've only seen through an article in the Telegraph , of all places, listing the World Cup's best adverts is this adidas one. It's set in one of the Star Wars films - I pretend I don't know, but it's Star Wars IV: A New Hope (1977) - and it's got the World's most popular white man, David Beckham, and put him alongside the World's coolest black man, Snoop Doggy Dog. Just in case you thought Snoop wasn't cool enough already they throw a him a light sabre and drop it like it's hot.

The decision to hire ready made 'stars' has been a tactic of the majority of advertisers during the world cup. Nike quite successfully got Rooney, Ronaldo and Ribery in on their commercial, while B.T. went for Colin Twizzle and a load of players not even at the World Cup, Gareth Bale is the only one that jumps to mind. It makes you wonder whether the performance of the advert works in tandem with the performance of the athlete. None of the above have performed well at all at the World Cup in the slightest. Maybe those Nike boots don't have the vorsprung durch technik they promise, or maybe B.T.s broadband is as slow as you always thought it was - Twizzle doesn't exactly strike me as a speedster.

One player that has performed well is Japan's Keisuke Honda. Given that advertising is quite a subconscious, subliminal kind of thing, I wonder if Honda, as in the car company, are licking their lips at the thought of Keisuke becoming the next big thing. Come to think of it, I haven't seen a Honda advert in ages. Maybe they're going for a much longer-term plan of ambush marketing. Phase one: adopt loads of children, name them Honda; Phase two: train them into superstar footballers; Phase three: World domination, every car is a Honda. They tend to put a lot of effort into their adverts generally so I wouldn't put it past them.

I'll leave you with an image of my favourite World Cup t-shirts. Every football fan should have one of these. Genius.

Bye.

England through but ze Germans lie in wait

I awoke this morning, chilled, both by the pool of sweat outlining my supple - no - Herculean - no - spindly - yes - spindly physique, and the rather disturbing dream I'd had the night before. In the dream, I'd been reading one of those weird, loserish games books where you have to roll dice or make a decision as to whether you want to go back three pages and fight a basilisk or go forward to p.77 and have a tea party with a wizard. I went for p.77 except all the pages weren't in order, and eventually, I got to a page with a telephone number written in red with the message: "call at the END". Obviously I thought f*ck that, gave it a bell, and the next thing I new my family had been taken hostage by a man with a deeply sinister voice claiming to be called Franz. Whether Franz Beckenbauer's schoolboy cuss that England are "stupid" for finishing 2nd in the group and therefore playing Germany in the knockout stages, took such offence in my subconscious as to warrant him a psychotic kidnapper, I don't know. The step from minor insult to Josef Fritzl impersonator does seem to be a small leap in the logical sequence of confrontation. Normally - probably the wrong word for this situation but I'll run with it - I'd have gone for a strongly worded letter or a Shakespearian thumbflick right from the back of the teeth, but maybe that's what you get for calling someone an "evil loud mouth" in your previous blog. Let it be said, I'm sorry, Franz.

A showdown with Germany is, of course, what awaits England in the last sixteen and will surely prove to be the tie of the round - we'll ignore the small possibility of a Brazil vs Spain encounter for the time being. This mouthwatering prospect, which seemed a futile hope after the lowly display against Algeria, was made possible at the last by a courageous and heartfelt performance against Slovenia. There is still much room for improvement but the change in personnel and tactics brought out a much more encouraging performance. My memory of the game again fails me somewhat, having watched it in the pub. I saw that tackle by Upson, and when Defoe scored, Rooney belting the ball, and Capello screaming... or something like that. There were, in truth, some exceptional performances across the park but in particular from Milner and Terry. Milner's workrate and commitment throughout was outstanding, while J.T., son of a kleptomaniac, adulterer-exceptionale and thug, was harder than Die Hard with a hard on... Oh God, did I actually just write that? Anyway, take a look at him attempting to block a superpowerblaster with his face. Who da man?!

The group stage as a whole has been a highly mixed affair. The negativity of the opening games has at last been put to bed, with the final group games inspiring a bit of passion. Not so for the French, and only barely for the Italians, who both finished bottom in their respective groups with no wins from three. Quite the shock for the class of 2006. Much has been made of the infighting among the French. Domenech, the French Coach, doesn't exactly inspire confidence. His failure to change the system from a defensive 4-5-1 against 10-men Uruguay in the first game was criminal, as has been his general team selection thereafter. The reaction of many teams may have been disappointment and disharmony but the French know how to do it proper... STRIKE! Not that it can be all his fault. The French Football Federation missed a major opportunity in giving him the boot after the calamity of the failed qualification for Euro 2008. The players too must bear some of the burden. The egos of the likes of Gallas and Anelka, the latter sent home early, would not have been easy to manage or play alongside but hardly excuses or explains the lackluster performances during the tournament.

The holders, Italy, were barely any better. Having made few changes to an already ageing squad, they lacked the pace and invention to unlock teams. Contrary to tradition, their normally watertight defence was as leaky as the titanic, and it appears the captain, Cannavaro, and the violin quartet of Pirlo, Gattuso, Zambrotta and Camoranesi will go down with the ship. At least they provided some entertainment in one of the games of the tournament so far, a 3-2 defeat to Slovakia, which could easily have ended up differently. Quagliarella's deft chip in the dying moments was scant consolation in a game that also saw an extremely tight offside call and a save off the line, which both (just about correctly) went against them.

A word too for some of the minnows. New Zealand, or the 'All Whites', probably the worst choice of nickname you could adopt for a team in South Africa, applied themselves excellently. I don't recall any knock-ons or forward passes, though they probably lost a few too many of their own lineouts. I jest. To have come out of their first World Cup undefeated is nothing short of remarkable. I also feel some affinity to North Korea, not least because Kim-Jong-Il, who, for some reason insists on describing himself in the third person, is probably far from ill and is instead pretty bloody angry - will almost certainly have the team silenced on return. The ambitious prediction of their talismanic striker, Jong Tae-Se, that he would score in every game may have been a little wide of the mark but their brave display against Brazil deserves much credit. The 7-0 mauling by Portugal however, will have done serious damage to the defence case, if, against all judgement, it actually went to trial.

In terms of advertising, despite writing this blog, I have largely tried my best to avoid it. There's just so much that it begins to get annoying. The 'Pringoals' advert makes me want to see more of Peter Crouch doing the robot rather than hungry for Pringles. The cleverest and probably most successful advert is the live on-screen odds offered by Paddy Power at half time... or is it Bet365? Hmmm, kind of undermined my point a bit there haven't I? The fact that I've managed to resist temptation thus far doesn't go a long way to supporting my argument either. Nevertheless, I still reckon that must earn them a fortune from undecided punters. Who knows, I may well decide on a flutter later in the tournament. If do I'll be adopting my age-old approach - to do the exact opposite of what I think I should do. The confusing games of double bluff, where I continually change my mind as to what I think I shouldn't do is one of the main reasons why I usually refrain.

To the knockout stages we go then and this is where the fun really begins. I'm just hoping that Tel's 'Dream Comes True' ... Right Now!

I'll leave you with my favourite quote of the week from a question and answer section with the England goalkeeper, David James.

Reporter: "You're keen on visualisation. What will you be visualising before the game?" David James: "Catching balls, that sort of thing."

Ta ra.

It's all Germany's fault.

The World Cup is finally in full swing. The anticlimax of the cagey opening games has been replaced by a few games that have been vaguely exciting. There's still a long way to go but hopefully the football will continue to improve as the tournament nears a conclusion.

One possible reason for the general, though not universal, lack of quality in the opening games has been apportioned to the jabulani. This is of course the name given to the latest addidas super-football, which moves in strange, beguiling ways through the air in order to bamboozle opponents. One article in the Daily Mail blames the Germans. Now, I wouldn't want to lower the tone by quoting directly but this is the general message: they argue that the Germans have been covertly inserting highly advanced microchips into the stitching of the balls in order to control the direction of the ball mid-air. Note the peculiar double, or triple swerve of the ball in flight in particular games. That swerve pattern is being communicated by messages hidden in the distinctive soundwaves of selected vuvuzelas. The German F.A. and Addidas, a German company, all led by the evil loud-mouth, Franz Beckenbauer, have been recruiting striking South African world cup workers, disgruntled by poor pay, to infiltrate stadiums and emit signals to the jabulani all for the German cause, thus explaining why the vuvuzelas have not been banned. Foolproof.

Stepping back to reality briefly, it seems to me that rather too much has been made of the whole ball thing. It's clearly an issue: crosses are frequently overhit, it bounces higher, the altitudes of certain stadia (which I must add have been very impressive) place less resistance on the path of the ball through the air, etc; but that surely can't be the whole issue. Personally, I reckon if the players just played slightly better they wouldn't be kicking the ball long every three seconds. The Brazilians don't seem to have a problem with it.

Speaking of Brazilians, they have been rather good. In a World Cup that has so far struggled for inspiration, Brazil have served up some tasty moments. The moment of the World Cup would have belonged to Luis Fabiano had he not handled on two separate occassions - once preceding and once following - a delightful couple of dinks over two hapless defenders in their comfortable victory over the Ivory Coast. Instead what survives from that encounter was the most despicable piece of playing acting by Kader Keita that resulted in Kaka's sending off. Make an example of him, I say. Ban him from the tournament. Go medieval. That would stop it.

Brazil's success may however be punished by Spain's incompetence. Their failure to beat Switzerland in the opening game could result in their meeting Brazil in the next round. Despite Spain's slow start I wouldn't particularly want to pick a winner. Elsewhere, Argentina look set to stroll through their group after an attacking masterclass against South Korea. Holland, who have been comparatively far less impressive, are also all but through. In terms of players, I've been particularly impressed with Chile's Alexis Sanchez and Uruguay's Diego Forlan. Sanchez's high speed trickery has been instrumental in Chile's opening two wins, while Forlan has shown more than just an eye for goal, dropping deep and tirelessly working to find space.

The next match I'm gearing myself up for is, of course, the match that could end all matches, if you're English that is. The depressing failure to beat Algeria leaves us with it all to do against Slovenia, but a win will take us through. I imagine I'll get down to a pub with any other mates that are around and not working at 3 in the afternoon and either celebrate in to the night or drink away my sorrows. I'm hopeful that maybe Carlsberg will step in and give one of those 'Best team talks in the World' teamtalks. I would be quite up for that if only they could back up their advertising with their product.

Largely against the intention of officials, the other main thing that caught my eye was the speight of 'ambush advertising' during one of the games. A group of approximately forty hot Dutch models, wearing all orange, were ejected from one of the games for illegally promoting the beer company Bavaria, but in so doing promoted Bavaria more than they could have imagined. I thought they were just Holland fans. Now, my lips are parched and all I can think about is a frosty Bavaria. Personally, I love the alternative names for this brand of illegal promotion, particularly, 'guerrila advertising'. All I can picture is that fat opera singer from 'Go Compare' hiding in in the jungle waiting to pop out and blow your mind with an outrageous deal on your car insurance.

Til next time.

The grass is aways Greener on the other side

So the long awaited world cup is finally under way and I for one couldn't be much happier. The group stages especially are brilliant. The thought of three games a day with no end in sight has given me a wide range of symptoms from a paralysed state of euphoria to occassional foaming at the mouth. The old man's lazy boy with extendable foot rest and back recliner along with a fridge full of chilled beer has been the ideal remedy. Note, so far, the absence from mention of a particular name that broods on the tip of my tongue. But before I begin my rant, or should I say, witch hunt, I would like to devote some time to other aspects of the World Cup other than England, since after all it is the World Cup.

I'll begin with the opening ceremony. As a spectacle it was as entertaining as could be expected. The choreography was distinctly African in its own colourful and chaotic way. The gigantic model dung beetle was an interesting choice of icon given the more traditional alternatives. Clive Tyldesly, who grows more annoying every passing second, justified it on the grounds it was "the unsung hero" of the animal kingdom, rarely credited for its selfless foraging and revitalisation of the undergrowth. Shut up, Clive. Isn't it enough that you blabber on all the way through the football? I'm trying to watch the bloody ceremony. Sorry, I almost got ahead of myself there. By far the most puzzling part of the opening ceremony was the casting of R. Kelly as the ceremony's finale centrepiece. He doesn't exactly strike me as an archetypal representative of South Africa. In fact, I was under the impression that there were still major question marks over, how can I put this, liking his food a little too fresh out the kitchen. Either way, the ceremony was still largely enjoyable if unlikely to raise quite the same response as Cartman's "The Chinese are COMING" after the Beijing Olymics in 2008.

The first game of the world cup was when the real excitement began. I found myself heavily behind Sith Ifrica, who started poorly, as Mexico passed and moved with impressive fluidity, though only rarely troubled Khune in the Sith Ifricun goal. It was only in the second half that South Africa - alright spellcheker, you win - really got going. A brisk passing move was stunningly finished by the brilliantly named, Siphiwe Tshabalala, to set off a cocophony of noise that surpassed, for the only time in the game, the general din of vuvuzelas (those irritating plastic horns) that never seems to stop. It did stop, if only for a moment, when Raphael Marquez equalized for the Mexicans in the 79th minute. And that was how it stayed.

The France game deserves as much atteniton as I'm going to give it. None.

Most of saturday was spent in anticipation. South Korea beat Greece 2-0 in one of the least appealing games on paper though much better live, while Argentina won 1-0 against Nigeria to get off to a winning start. From an attacking perspective, the Argies have rather a lot going for them. Messi, Tevez and Higuain started, leaving Milito, a treble winner with 30 goals behind him this season, and Aguero, a supposed Chelsea target with 20 goals; both on the bench. That is some force. From England, only Rooney would come close to troubling Maradona's selection. Of the lot, Messi is, of course, the most coveted and he showed why against Nigeria, involved, as he was, in every dangerous move they produced. Only a goal to cap the performance was missing. Question marks remain over the defence, as a very poor Nigerian side were still able to manufacture some chances.

The evening game between England and the USA is what we were all waiting for. I invited over a few friends to watch the game, and we nervously predicted possible outcomes, debated the choice of Heskey up front, Milner on the left, and one other position, I forget which. I ignored the advice of my old sport's coach, some gibberish that having butterflies before a game is a good thing, it's about getting them to fly in formation that's important - by necking a few tinnies prior to kick off. My actual memory of the game is therefore probably slightly patchy and pent-up with booze-fuelled emotions.

Begin rant. England couldn't have got off to a better start. Watching the game in crystal clear High Definition, I thoroughly enjoyed the visual precision of the wonderful advert break taken four minutes into the game. Some people say, "sarcasm is the lowest form of wit", I say, "Foorsooth, ITV is the highest form of shit!". This was truly f*cking ridiculous. It cut back maybe a minute later, England 1-0 up, and no idea how it happened. Naturally, part of me was pleased but a much bigger part was utterly incensed. It's not like it's the first time it's happened either. Everton fans will know what I'm talking about. It all seems to fit into an ongoing thing with ITV, that everything they do is complete garbage. Their supposed catchpoint, Independent TV, has led to the principles of meritocracy being all but abandoned. Clive Tyldesley I've already mentioned, but let's not forget Andy Townsend, Marcel Desailly, and in a bygone era Ron I'm-not-a racist-I've-got-loads-of-black-friends-Atkinson. They all talk absolute twaddle. Desailly, I've got some sympathy with given English is not his first language, but that surely should have crossed the mind of one of the producers. "So Marcel what did you make of the first half?", "Ah, well, lots of running, sideways, forwards, pass, pass, goal", does not qualify as good punditry. The best ITV had to offer was Lucas Radebe's musical exploits on the vuvuzela. And, even though I quite like Adrian Chiles, it's in a sort sort of chubby, overgrown teddy-bear sort of way. I'm pleased he's no longer bullied in the playground and he's doing well for himself, presenting mock-up football shows and the Apprentice uncovered or whatever it was called but NOT presenting frontline football. What the f*ck does he know more than any of the rest of us? And yes, let's pay him £3m a year to do it. IDIOTS.


Just when you might have thought I was finished, you've probably realised that I haven't even mentioned Robert Green. I honestly don't think I've ever seen something more depressingly pathetic in my life. For once the HD caught the moment in all its candid horror. A blind, paraplegic baboon would have done better. For Green, it must have lasted an eternity, and I'm sure will haunt him in those slow motion dreams where you fight against your will with every sinew to move but just can't. Don't get me wrong, I feel for the fella. The truth of the matter is he shouldn't have been playing. James was the obvious 'safe' choice, which if you weren't going to go for, you'd have to go with form. Joe Hart is the only keeper out of the three who's actually had a good season. I hope he starts the next game.

In retrospect, I thought England actually played quite well. We created a hatful more chances than we do normally. Heskey justified his starting role with a combative all round performance, despite missing probably our best chance. Gerrard too, also shined as captain, perhaps enjoying Rio's early departure and the possibilty of seeing his ugly mug superimposed over Bobby Moore rather more than he'd like to let on. Based on the Slovenia vs Algeria game there's plenty to be optimistic about.


I don't know whether it's a bit of the hawthorne effect of writing this blog or just my general enthusiam for the World Cup, but I've been like a bat out of hell texting mates and posting links about anything and everything that catches my eye. Take for example this brilliant World Cup calendar brought to my attention by a mate. I'm also greatly enjoying some of the photography being posted on the BBC website, particularly in the more rural areas of the country, where whole villages are going mad for the football, watching games projected onto bedsheets.

I'll finish with a link to a goal by Spain's David Silva in a world cup warm-up match they won 6-0 against Poland. It is absolutely disgusting, as in sick, as in amazing. So much for everyone else's chances.

In other news, Germany won 4-0 against Australia. Nuff said.

Till next time.

England lose on penalties again!

Well, it's been a week since my last post and as promised I give you my latest instalment.

For any of you who haven't been alive this week, England, boasters of the all time worst penalty record ever recorded in history, wait for it... lost on penalties. AGAIN! Now, before you go pulling posters off your wall and sobbing into your pillow, you'll be pleased to know, at least for the meantime, that England are not, repeat, NOT out of the World Cup. This is of course a reference to Woody Harrleson's winning slow motion penalty past an inspired, if ever so slightly, malcoordinated, Jamie Theakston, in Sunday's Soccer Aid celebrity-legends match-up. A moment should be taken to applaud the £2.5m raised in aid of Unicef's work in Africa. Moment over. Now, let's all take a much longer moment to recall Robbie William's shambolic penalty fly over the bar, Waddle-stylee... Woooooah... BULLSH*T, AAAAAAAH! Oh, but he's done wonders for charity yaddi yaddi yadda... Pah, he's still an arrogant, loathsome individual. If only Boris Johnson had turned up again wearing his rugby gear. THUD.

My attention for the rest of the game was mostly spent drooling over the entirely unloathsome individual, Zinedine Zidane, though more out of nostalgia than his actual display on the night. Funny how some people will always hold occult status no matter what they do. Recall Zizu's infamous headbutt of yesteryear. If anything, it was lauded for its impeccable technique, the immaculate awareness of space, and the cleanliness of contact, rather than castigated for its maniacal barbarism. He could quite easily have released a literary retort to Matterazzi's highly distasteful, 'The 99 things I could have said to Zidane', namely, 'The 99 ways I could have kicked the shit out of Matterazzi'; and we'd still love him. More, perhaps. I'd buy one.

The same laws seem to apply, at least in Argentina, to the legendary Diego Maradona. This is according to his biographer and journalist, Jimmy Burns, who described his ongoing godlike status on the streets of Buenos Aires in the Independent this week. The cult of Maradona, although maintaining some support with romanticists in England for his youthful footballing brilliance, will forever be tainted by the deplorable yet aptly termed 'Hand of God'. For that is how Maradona sees it - he has been blessed and was just getting a helping hand from his best mate, God. I wonder if he also thought God was on his side after a nervy victory in qualification over Uruguay saw his team through to the World Cup finals, culminating in this attack on his critics:

"To all of you who did not believe in us, and I apologise to the women here, you can suck it and keep sucking it."

Well, at least he's not a misogynist. In all seriousness, I know I was only just going off on one about the majesty of Zidane triumphing over a brutish undercoat but it's not like I'm recommending him for President. It was intended to be more of an observation of the common perception of him in the media and elsewhere, no better displayed than in Mogwai's cinematographic motion picture 'Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait'. Suuurely, however, this Maradona love affair is one step too far down the road of insanity, not for this isolated incident by any means but the package as a whole.

Let's consider for a moment the thought process of the Argentinian F.A. behind his appointment. Pros: ex-footballer, might know something about football; Cons: he's an overweight, obnoxious, drug addict with a lengthy criminal record, who owes an estimated 37 million euros to the Italian government (23 million of which is in interest) and probably can't remember the last twenty years of his life, escaping out of his nostrils along with a steady stream of mucusy gunk. What the Dickens were they thinking? Maybe the magic eight ball came out with "all signs point to yes", I don't know. The only comparable equivalent would be if England pulled Gazza out of Alcholics Anonymous and told him to win the world cup in exchange for a crate of tennents super.

But what's this, only today, literally as I write, Capello's only gone and lost it too. The difference being of course that these overeager reporters weren't told to choke on Mr. Capello's third leg. Quite reasonably, he told them in no uncertain terms but without using this particular term, to fuck off. He wanted some privacy for his team. Fair enough. Nonetheless, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if the tabloids rapidly turned this into a cataclysmic shitstorm, in which Capello, recognised and respected for his brooding yet quiet temperament, is depicted like a psychotic loonatic, crazily out of control, and thus, a culpable scapegoat for unsettling whichever England star steps up, twelve yards out, to miss the crucial penalty against, for the sake of irony, an Argentinian side drugged to the eyeballs coz Diego fancied a knees up the night before, and that, we will not only have to face the prospect of sucking it but to keep on sucking it until we concede that Gascoigne is in fact the way to go. Just a thought.

In a roundabout, off the wall kind of way that brings me neatly back to my orignial point, namely, England and penalties. It seems appropriate to address a
rather Frasier Crane-inspired philosophical thought. Is there something inherently feeble about the English mind when faced with a penalty that we inherenly seize up? Are we physiologically programmed to get the Grobbelaar wobblies every time we're in front of the sticks? The fact that we - I know I'm not the only one - even question it suggests that something's at odds. Let's look at the facts. Statistically, a Brazilian is four times more likely to score a penalty than an Englishman; a German, nine times. Technically, I completely made that up but I love how throwing a word in like 'statistically' makes it, statistically, 89 per cent more likely that some one will believe you...

Before I ramble on any further, I don't seriously profess to actually know what I'm talking about. It turns out however, that there is one person who does. John Barnes suggests the problem is a dietary one. Yes, that's right, a mars day does way more than keep the doctor away, it transforms you into a World Cup winner... that, or an 18 stone piece of putty, the message isn't entirely clear.

Well, that's about that. Are England doomed to failure?

I'm listening...

Where's Wally? Not at the World Cup, that's for sure.

Hello reader(s?),

my name is Alan and I will be documenting my thoughts on anyting and everything related to the world cup over the coming month or so. It's the first time I've ever written an online blog so it's probably best I tell you a little about myself. I'm 24, and live in London, where aside from a short uni excursion up t't north, I have spent all of my life. I am a keen sportsman both playing and watching, with a particular obsession for football. Of course, barring my desperate injury record I'd probably be on the plane to Cape Town this summer... Rather sadly and rather obviously, that's simply not true but it's what I like to tell myself. Seriously, there's few things better than a bit of hypothetical self-flattery. In reality, my closest footballing comparison is probably Phil Neville, which, depressingly, says it all.

I am a lifelong Arsenal fan, which might turn a few of you off or raise a few 'hilarious' comments about lack of silverware or Wenger being a paedophile, but 'Not up in here, man, Not up in here!" To me, the whole point of the world cup is that for one month we all put aside our club's petty differences and unite behind the futile cause that is England. To summise: Southgate, 96, age 10, I cried, tore poster off wall; Batty 98, age 12, I cried, tore poster off wall; Ronaldinho, 2002, age 16 and old enough not to have done, I cried, at least I didn't tear down a poster; Rooney off, Ronaldo tw*t, 2006, age 20, tore down a poster. Why do we do it? Because we love it, that's why. Because there's always a chance, however slim, that this embarassing love affair I seem to have with England and crying could in fact be tears of joy rather than tears of apocalyptic despair. Here's hoping.

Despite my undying love for the world cup, and my wish that it could take place every year, I have never actually been to a world cup game. I have been fortunate to have had tickets at Arsenal since the age of 7 and been able to see the likes of Wright, Bergkamp, Vieira Pires, Henry, Fabregas, et al as well as distinguished opponents such as Cantona, Rivaldo, C. Ronaldo, and Messi, so it's not as if I'm lacking experience but once again I will be viewing from home. Obviously, I would love to go. A friend of a friend of mine has managed to wrangle some sort of dissertation research in South Africa over the world cup. I don't think I've ever been so jealous in my life. I think they've even got funding for it. My only reposte is to try and watch every single match. I'm not sure it's possible, but I'm working on a day-by-day basis at the moment - and no, I'm not a bum, not quite - so I'm gonna give it a shot.

I'm going to be watching the first game on my girlfriend's rooftop terrace with some mates, weather permitting. I've been looking into setting up a projector screen, which would be awesome, though potentially a little risky what with the gallons of beer sloshing around. Otherwise, I can see myself creating a fairly permanent groove in my sofa. (Note to self, move fridge upstairs within metre radius for ease of access to beer supply).

As for keeping up to date with World Cup news I will be frequently pressing refresh on the bbc sport page, as well as listening to the guardian podcast. I will be trying my best to avoid most other sites, but occasionally I'm sure will fall foul to tempatation. 'Beckham to transplant new achilles', 'Maradona spikes Brazilian water bottles', 'Berlusconi overrules Lippi with saucy Italian win bonus'; I'm almost tempted to write them myself.

Of course, the main news about the world cup from an England perspective is the recently announced squad. I shan't go into great detail, but just a few words on some that were a little unlucky. The biggest surprise was probably the absence of Theo Walcott. As an Arsenal fan, perhaps, I should be more outraged but in truth, I'm not. Theo's had a tough season with recurrent injuries, and has never really found his top form consistently. I'm sure he'll be devastated, who wouldn't, but hopefully this will give him the determination to work even harder on his game. I was just a little surpriesed that it was Wright-Phillips who took his place. SWP hasn't played much at all this season, and it would surprise me that one alright performance against Japan would be enough to swing it so late in the day. Personally, I'd have liked to see Johnson, he's looked like a really good prospect for City, who offers something different. Maybe that's just me. You've also got feel a little sorry for Darren Bent. He's scored 25 goals this season, while Heskey has had 8 shots on target. That's all I have to say on that one. The only other unlucky candidate was Scott Parker, who I think had a great shout of being in given his impressive performances for West Ham against Michael Carrick's fairly abject performances for Utd. All that aside, I'd rather have Capello at the helm than most others, so we'll just have to wait and see.

Until next time, I'll leave you with a link to the best the media has to offer for the build up to the world cup. I'm sure you've all already seen it at least in part but if not enjoy.

Over and out.

Welcome Mr Hick

Hello Alan,

Welcome to your very own World Cup Blog; is this a future rival to the indomitable Arseblog !?! We shall see...

I'd just like to take this opportunity to outline what this blog is all about. We are really interested in getting your views on what is exciting/not exciting around the World Cup tournament, how you are consuming the event and content around it, your stories from all of this, as well as some pictures (these can be anything, we would just like anything that will bring your experience to life even further - e.g. mobile pics?). Hope that's clear enough!?

Please note that we have taken you on because we feel that your opinions would represent people who really love football well; for that reason whatever you can give us over the next weeks will be extremely invaluable.

At the very least we would like you to contribute one post per week, and this will be generated from a set of questions which we will e-mail for you to use in your next post. These questions will be e-mailed on the following Wednesdays throughout the tournament and it would be extremely helpful if you could post your response to these on the Wednesday evening or Thursday morning at the latest. The dates which we will remind you to blog with new questions will be:

• Weds 2nd June
• Weds 9th June
• Weds 16th June
• Weds 23rd June
• Weds 30th June
• Weds 7th July

If you feel like blogging at other periods too :-) feel free to blog about anything concerning the World Cup (and it would be great if you could bear in mind the following things):

• Your feelings and emotions around the World Cup
• How you are using different channels to access World Cup content
• Your opinions about the event sponsors and your perception of the brands
• Advertising activity which you found interesting
• Any other things which peaked your interest in the tournament

Any questions just shout @ my work e-mail (which is 'Max.Colson@phdnetwork.com')

Cheers for this, it's much appreciated!

Max