World Cup Nonsense

[Sweder]

Never mind beer of the week . . . I've just witnessed the goal of the year.
The strike that Broke a Million Mexican Hearts lit up this World Cup in a match that already had me on the edge of my seat.

Torn between two temporary lovers - I have a number of Argentineans in my fantasy team, yet the thought of the favourites falling to one of the poorest (fiscally speaking) nations in the tournament was just too sweet - I sweated, fretted, ducked and dived in the privacy of my living room as if this were England.

Except that the technical ability on show was a step above anything we've produced so far. That's not to say our lumbering, bludgeoning style cannot overcome touch and guile (it has in the past) but watching a game 'objectively' one can appreciate that the football world outside our beloved Premiership is a rich and enthralling one.

One element of these knock-out stages is less welcome - the influence/ pressure on referees to favour the 'big' teams. Heinze should have gone for his assault on Fonseca at the end of the first half. Worse for me was the sight of the hosts begging the official to dismiss Lucic for a second bookable offence which, frankly, was nothing of the sort. Did I dream it or did one ref dish out a yellow very early on in this tournament for this unsporting behaviour? FIFA must issue clear instructions to book any player acting like a mini-cab driver at an airport arrivals lounge. Such low-life activity ranks alongside racism and gobbing on opponents in my book and has no place in the game.

The tension builds in homes across the land as Ecuador approaches.
Already the talk is of 35 degree heat and a brand new England formation; it’s enough to make your toenails curl up and die. I (we?) expect England to prevail, yet Inger-land followers know the script so well; think Cameroon in 1990. Can anyone remember the feeling before that game? Just how many would the mighty Lineker score? My stomach tightens (use your imagination!) at the memory of Roger Millar and his men in green leading our boys a merry dance that night. We won, but nerves were shred like Enron balance sheets.

One last thought before I retire to my bunker, chilled Guinness under one arm, loo roll and Vicodin under the other; after yesterday’s matches in the (swallow) ‘Round of 16’ (sorry) it has suddenly become a smidgeon less vital that England progress. Call the Yeoman of the Guard! Unlock The Tower!
But I hope you know what I mean; this is a feast of football set before us.
And, to quote one of the sponsors, I’m Lovin’ it.