The Three Dads World Cup Wonderland

 I'm back, within close proximity of World Cup telly. For a while (after discovering a remote cidery), there was a chance that I'd miss more of this tournament - but after an unexpected sleep in a field, my camp trip has finished without further incident. The footy gods seemingly smiled upon me, as the one bar of 4G reception, whilst often unable to load a web page, did somehow manage to give me solid BBC sounds audio. And with that, I have largely kept in touch with proceedings.  The biggest challenge has been sleep to be honest. Last night, in a cider-induced fever dream, I managed to take in the first half of Morocco v Brazil, which then spliced itself together with the second half of Scotland v Haiti - which was weird. What was more weird was that in between , I had a dream about Tyrone Mings, on horseback, making a rash challenge that managed to destroy both his own knees and the horses existence. But this is something I should speak to a therapist about, rather than leav...

 Well, this one has crept up on me hard! I've barely had time to recover from Villa's Europa League win a fortnight ago; distracted all the while with SkySports trying to sell off our squad to The Big Six and reading stories of the thunderstorms and the visa complexities facing fans, players and referees of countries that Trump doesn't like today - and yet now here we are, listening to Gary Neville self reflecting on his own career as a scene setter for the World Cup. This one is a weird one. The expanded format and cruel time-zone scheduling mean that I go into it with no ambitions to 'watch it all'. The group stages are, on paper, almost devoid of any real jeopardy. The bloating of the tournament means there are now more groups than realistic winners, and with that, of course, no groups of death. And to cater for the stupid total number of teams which has to be 8,16,32 or even 64 dammit - just no other actual number; we have the awful spectacle of most  3rd place ...

  As promised in my last post, I left the fawning over Messi to after the final. And just as he had done in EVERY knockout round of the tournament, Messi stood up to be counted, and delivered BIG TIME. Which was very considerate of him to make it very easy to write my final post of 2022 by waxing lyrically about the wonder that is Lionel Messi. Sport in general, and certainly football, is littered with examples of finals being played that struggle to meet the grand expectations bestowed upon it, where two teams nullify each other to the point of it becoming - a still intriguing contest - but more of a chess match. Cagey, tight. No pizzazz.  This was quite simply the best World Cup final of my lifetime. Involving the best player on the planet, playing to the best of his abilities. Dragging his team through to a glorious end. That it also involved his heir apparent who was likely the most miserable recipient of a souvenir match ball at a World Cup is just mind blowing.  It ...

 Well, it’s beginning to feel like the latter stages of the World Cup. England are home and Birchy is turning over in his sleep pondering the fate of Southgate. There’s a comfortable feeling to it that we can finally relax. I agree wholeheartedly, this feels different. No more reaching, no more backs to the wall defending. We went toe to toe with the world’s best and probably deserved to win or at least take the game to extra time. We didn’t. Ruining my extremely close prediction of a 3-2 win AET - had Kane not Waddle’d the pen, I’d say that was a likely outcome. But Brazil didn’t win their game vs Croatia. It happens. But flukey draw and being miles away from all the other teams in the semis (ie 2018) this was not.  Alas, the same outcome though. Home and no silverware. I’m not in England and am able to have pragmatic perspectives on Southgate. There isn’t a magical manager named Jose that could come in and be faultless. Is Southgate perfect? No. Has he been ridiculously more...

 Ah, that time again. The round of the World Cup after  England have exited. Normally this is the period of the tournament I enjoy the most, as I'm able to enjoy the football without hoping the best teams fail to make our path easier. This time I'm not as excited. Maybe in part, it is an element of hipocrisy - it would be easier now to boycott the climax of the tainted tournament. Indeed this idea did momentarily fleet into my mind, before I realised the raw shit-housery masterclass potential of tonight's Argentina vs Croatia clash. But the bigger reason I'm less excited about this part of the tournament, this time, is because we've gone and blown it. In previous touraments, our national psyche and national press have over-hyped us to a point of frenzy. We usually toil away for a bit, manage to haul ourselves nervously into the knock-out stages, grow wild with enthusiasm before bowing out. That cycle always presents me relief that we can just crack on and watch the ...

Aaaaaaand breath. The most dramatic day of World Cup quarter final action since 1986 (the last time both games went to pens), has nudged me out of my blogging lull that had made it appear I had been strangled by a well drilled Moroccan defence. In reality, endless action, life and responsibilities & unwelcome time differences have made me prioritize actually catching the action versus the keyboard. So I’ve a lot to catch up & we’re going to have to do it in double quick time:  Group stage musings A wonderful collection of sparkling performances by the top teams with goals galore, underdog shocks aplenty and excessive drama on game 3 days where any and every eventuality seemed possible, epitomized by the 60 seconds of disbelief at the prospect of Costa Rica joining Japan in the round of 16, before being firmly shut down by an ultimately futile German resistance with the damage already done. I haven’t researched too much yet on the format for 2026, but with 48 teams I can’t h...