Weltmeisters
After a cracking finale to what is widely agreed to have been the best ever World Cup Finals, I'm happy enough with tonight's outcome. I nearly switched allegience right after Muller dived over his own leg in an embarassing attempt to con the generally excellent officials, but remained loyal to my Northern European brethren. I recently opined that 'Schweinsteiger' translated as 'Pig-fucker' (actually, pig-mounter). Yet I'm bound to say after tonight it must simply mean 'warrior'. The man was immense.
Our house echoed to the strains of 'Don't cry for long, Argentina' as I searched fruitlessly for shots of Diego Maradona weeping into his vulgar gold chain. I suspect I was happier that Argentina lost than I was for Germany's glory. The young fellow took his winning goal superbly. Social Media suggests that Google searches for 'Goatse' proved troubling for many. (Don't do it, by the way. You can never un-see that). My own preferred tabloid headline would be 'Götze, cow-son, Götze!' in honour of our very own Chas 'n' Dave, that chirpy Cockerney duo who once eulogised legendary North London Argentine Osvaldo Ardilles.
FIFA blotted - or is that Blattered? - their copy-book one last time, singling out Lionel Messi as 'Player of the Tournament'. He wasn't even the best player for Argentina - that was Mascherano, a man who confessed to 'tearing his anus' in making that wonderful last-ditch tackle to deny Arjen Robben at the end of the semi-final. James (Ham-es) Rodrieguez, scorer of the best goal of a splendid bunch, should have added POTT to his Golden Boot. Neuer, the German giant, received the Golden Glove, an award that had more than a hint of Michael Jackson about it. I rather hoped he'd squeal and spin on his heel as he received it. Alas.
During the match I opted for the Beeb's red button: pictures from BBC One, comms from Radio 5 Live. Tonight saw, or rather heard, Mike Ingham's last ever live match commentary. He called both second halves, and Götze's winner, impeccably. Ingham has been Radio 5's Paul Simon to Alan Green's Garfunkle since the 1990 World Cup. His considered, measured, well-informed tones will be sorely missed. John Murray, good as he is, has big boots to fill.
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