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.
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