The Three Dads World Cup Wonderland

For about two minutes of delirium as I danced around the room, jubilant 7 yr old on my back, at the sight of Trippier's free kick ripple the back of the net, the dream was on. This was really happening.... It didn't last long. It was about 3 minutes later that the texts of "we've scored too early" were being exchanged, and the gut wrenching began. The brutal nature of tournament football will always play with the mind - the missed chances - Kane from 3 inches out (sorry Harry, in this new VAR world, you can't hide behind the offside flag on that one!), the "if only"s are always going to be there - as the margins are so slim, simply the fact we held out for so long and there was only 22 minutes to go.... However, in the cold light of day, it all played out how it should. The team that included the world class players, who have more Champions League winners medals than Gareth has outfits beat the young inexperienced team who had already over-achiev

Here in the UK the weather broke simultaneously with England players' and fans' hearts, upon the final whistle of their semi-final. A month of relentless sunshine and joy cracked suddenly, to be replaced by rain and a national sigh. The rain on my street was frothy, and I am convinced it is directly due to the sheer volume of lager that had been sent skywards just hours before when Trippier's free-kick hit the back of the net. At that moment and for the 30 minutes afterwards it all looked like it was going to be a dream. Sterling was running about and looking dangerous, we were making chances and Croatia looked off form. But then the creeping doom set in. We slowed. Croatia grew. They got more savvy. Modric was being all Modric, twisty and confident. He was playing like a man who knows a World Cup win will surely buy him immunity. Perisic was absolute class, wily, progressive and down-right dangerous. We slowed some more. As the game went on and on, it became like wat

I'd love to go in chronological order of the quarter finals, recapping a disappointingly routine win for the French, and - for my money - the game of the tournament between Brazil and Belgium, but how can I..... when Chris Waddle is in tears, Alan Shearer  is singing into a breadstick and the watching nation are carelessly wasting a virtual tanker full of  beer  in the air as England continue to march on. (Although kudos to Leeds for applying some Yorkshire prudence for their lack of spillage!).  Even  Wrighty  is making us ignore his awful 'analysis' and an unhealthy obsession with Marcus Rashford while moonlighting from ITV, by demonstrating exactly where his Fox TV commitments rank against his desire to join in the celebrations. It is all delightfully surreal. By this stage of the tournament, Birchy and I have usually breathed a sigh of relief that England have departed - to finally end the torture, we've dissected all that is wrong with the game, and reached pr

Another rewarding weekend in an amazing World Cup. I just had a game on Fifa 18 and quite by choice decided to recreate Russia vs Saudi, that seemingly dull encounter, that actually sparked the tournament off 3 and a half weeks ago. That's how hard the bug has bitten. The quarter finals, often blighted by fear and negativity, carried on in the same positive vein as the rest of the tournament. France and Uruguay played out an intense and tight encounter, which was tactically fun to watch. The absence of Cavani and his rock hard face was a deciding factor, as was Muslera's unfortunate throwing of the ball into his own net to put the tie to bed. Griesmann was too embarrassed to celebrate, and Uruguay bowed out. Then came the big one, Belgium and Brazil. It didn't disappoint. The Belgians, with their wall of hair midfield, looked the real deal, Hazard was out of this world, De Bruyne was allowed to go forward, and slapped in a gorgeous goal, and at 2-0 they were sitting v