World Cup Nonsense

[Sweder]

Drama, unbearable tension, a real white-knuckle ride . . .

. . . and that was just waiting for Shearer to tell Gordon Strachan that redheads shouldn’t wear yellow. Captain Scarlett sat implacable in crisp white whilst the boy Lineker donned a racy striped number that had me flicking frantically through the ‘My M&S’ ads.

Poor Poland. Nothing to do with 20th Century history, or the obvious inequity of the hosts boasting two Polish-born strikers; rather it has to do with admirable battling spirit in the face of crushing odds and overwhelming partisan support ending in glorious, last-gasp failure.
I thought that was the preserve of Ing-er-lund.

The radio chat tonight is peppered with ‘will he – won’t he’ speculation over that man and that foot. I for one am heartily sick of it, though it's easy to appreciate the conundrum. Ericsson drops a bollock bringing a bus-load of midfielders and one-point-five half-fit strikers to the most important tournament in the world. The temptation to play the Boy Wonder, seen today (s)training like a rabid bulldog, must be off the scale. The lad himself has the look of a muscular hound trying to pull his owner’s arm out of its socket as he catches sight of the park. It would be no surprise if he comes off the bench, breaks his foot and gets a life ban before Lawro can crack a funny.

Lord Barwick of FA knows only too well that should the wunderkind play tomorrow and (God forbid) exacerbate an old (or pick up a new) injury Soho Square can expect a rapier-like missive from Messrs Sue, Grabbit & Runne (Manchester office).

Word from the England camp is Rooney’s been kicking lumps off the remaining suitors for Mr Owen, including Baby Walcott via a well-aimed drop shot to the rear. Deliberately backing his manager into a corner? Perhaps. I for one hope the demob happy Swede gets bitten; his new-found recklessness knows no bounds.

'Rooney is match fit.'
That's what 4.5 million pounds a year buys you. Thank God some FA PR lackie managed to wipe the spittle from Sven's trembling lips before he dropped that gem into his press conference. It's like watching Mr Burns on amphetamines.

Finally, a word of praise for our Spanish cousins.
Ukraine, whilst hardly favourites for the Coupe de Monde, can on their day be pretty tough opponents. Messrs Alonso, Garcia and Villa reduced them to sorry also-rans left sweating on the result of Saudi Arabia versus Tunisia after a sound and very public thrashing. Bravo!

Is it finally time for Spain to bury all those years of false hope and claim the greatest team prize in sport?