World Cup....Part Deux

As we knew it would, the England excuse machine is working overtime. Was the much criticised ‘Jabulani’ ball responsible for Robert Greens catastrophic error against the Yanks? Was it the altitude? Was it not having Rio Ferdinand – the most intrinsic part of England’s squad, they’d have you believe – in front of him? I have narrowed it down to the two most feasible reasons for the howler. Could it be that David Cameron pressured Green, from a political standpoint, into levelling the scores as somewhat of an apology for BP covering America’s Gulf of Mexico coastline in oil? Maybe? Or could it actually be that Robert Green is shit?

It is clear to everyone bar Fabio Capello that Green isn’t anywhere near good enough to be England’s number one man between the sticks. That honour belongs to a 39-year old man who sports a novelty ‘scouse’ wig (which is ironic as his time on Merseyside was tainted with his own bout of Robert Green-itis).

So, England were held to a 1-1 draw against the US of A. Not exactly world beating form. But, what does go in their favour is the faltering start of every other ‘big gun’ with exception of the Germans, who saw off the 10-man Aussies with typical ruthless efficiency. Star man of the opening round of games was Werder Bremens Mesut Ozil, who, with Turkish parentage, probably wouldn’t have been Hitler’s first choice to represent the Germans, but is doing a sterling job for current Reichstag, Joachim Low.

European champions Spain, who before their Euro 2008 victory were tagged as ‘chokers’ bit off more than they could chew by naming a team without Torres or Fabregas, and promptly asphyxiated against Switzerland, who, as the ‘Special One’ would say, parked a bus infront of their goal. Switzerland even started the match with Phillipe Senderos at the heart of their defence – all in all making it embarrassing for the ‘kings of Europe’. France – who have a manager in Raymond Domenech, who picks his side by any other possible means other than common sense, left Malouda and Henry out of a side picked by the ‘stars’ and struggled to a 0-0 stalemate with Uruguay. I think not even Russell Grant would have left those two out, especially if it meant Sidney Govou starting.

Tournament favourites Brazil just scraped past a battling North Korea, who put on a brave display that would make leader Kim Jong Il, Kim Jong Happy. Portugal held on for a 0-0 draw with a Drogba-less Ivory Coast, Argentina did just enough to see of Nigeria 1-0, despite Lionel Messi, the worlds best player, not hitting the target after more shots than a Cumbrian taxi-driver. And World Champions Italy were pegged back to a one-all draw against Paraguay. Italy were rather lucky to grab a share of the spoils – it was only after the Paraguay keeper did his best (and worst) Superman impression and gifted the Italians an equaliser.

It’s left the race for the World Cup wide open. Obviously, there is still more to go – a long way – but nobody really has set the World on fire in the opening round of games. I expect to see more from Argentina, I hope the Germans (my pre-tournament pick) can maintain the momentum against Serbia, mainly because Ghana can finish second in the group and knock out England in the second round. That is, of course, if England qualify. Algeria won’t roll over and I can’t see the England side gelling. After the USA game a few players, Frank Lampard in particular looked very downhearted. Almost like he received a phone call from the Mrs saying “hello love, you’re mate John Terry popped round for you while you were out……..”

The World Cup

It’s been a subject that, for obvious reasons, I’ve been unwilling to touch since May 22nd. I’ve been avoiding all things football (and Blackpool) like the plague. But it’s been a difficult task. Why? Another four years have passed and the World Cup, the greatest stage of them all, is upon us once again.

Who cares? I don’t. Lets face it – I’m Welsh, so what the fuck do I know about the World Cup? We’re never there. I know plenty about the qualifiers. You know, the qualifiers where we promise so much before a ball is kicked and then eventually fall to the footballing giants of Macedonia, Estonia, Latvia or Georgia (remember when they beat us 5-0?)

The World Cup for thousands of England fans means a happy trip to wherever the tournament is being played. The World Cup to us Welsh folk means a happy trip to anywhere else (normally alongside the Scots and the Irish). But, nevertheless, even with interest in the World Cup at a minimum, we still get it rammed down our throat with the usual nauseating vigour.

“England this, England that – this is our year”. Yes, it’s your year. To get knocked out in the quarter finals. Again. On Penalties. Again. Let’s face it, perennial quarter finalist England have as much chance of winning the tournament as Wales have of actually qualifying for the fucking thing. Or, to put it in context, as much chance as I have of a threesome with Cheryl Cole and Susan Kennedy. It just ain’t happening, no matter how much you dream about it. Sorry.

That doesn’t, however, stop the media and other companies bombarding us with all the usually bollocks about it though. Wherever you turn its World Cup. Please, for the love of god, stop. Or just at least stop showing the adverts, printing the papers and talking about it in Wales. And Scotland. And Ireland. We didn’t have all the kerfuffle for USA ’94 (can’t imagine why?) and we don’t want it now.

Panasonic, Pringles, Nationwide are all plugging their World Cup (and England) friendly products. But, by far the worst is the vomit inducing Carlsberg ‘team talk’ advert. “Do it for Bobby”. I’m not being funny, but if the couldn’t do it for him in ’86 and ’90, when he was the fucking manager, what chance have they got now?

Talking of ’86 and sunny Mexico – football bore witness to its greatest moment, when, in the Azteca, 120000 fans saw the finest goal ever scored. And they also saw Maradona, on a mazy dribble, skip past the whole England side before slotting past Peter Shilton in another decent effort. ‘The Hand of God’, so called as Maradona said the goal came from “A little with the head of Maradona, a little with the hand of God”. And yet you still whinge about it. To be fair, if a fat 5’5” midget can out jump your keeper, you deserve to lose. It’s been 24 years. Stop moaning.

And now, back to today. In the news we’ve got to hear about Gareth Barry and Steven Gerrard being injury worries and the build up today of who Fabio will take on the plane to South Africa. It doesn’t matter – Capello could take Jesus Christ, play him upfront alongside Rooney, and England still wouldn’t win the World Cup. Fuck me, Israeli commandos just shot 9 (alleged) pro-Palestinian aid workers trying to get aid into Gaza, but the news concentrates on the important issue of if Tom Huddlestone has done enough to make the final 23.

I will still, out of morbid curiosity, watch the World Cup. I will be initially supporting USA, Algeria and Slovenia. And then, if England progress, whoever else plays them. I will wait in anticipation for them to fuck it all up, again. Then bemoan something that wasn’t their fault and reminding us that you actually won the competition in 1966. How could we forget?

But for me, honestly, I don’t care who. The World Cup is about as useful to a Welshman as a sheep with no arsehole.