The England match left me numbed. Unimpressive, uninspired, lacklustre – however the bottle of champagne I enjoyed with the game certainly took the edge off things. It seems that we, along with France and Italy are suffering some horrendous ‘anti-football’ affliction. If the game was less global then we could put it down to ‘a long hard season in the Premier league’ or ‘the difficulty of being motivated for national team games when the premier league pays so well’; but neither is valid. Neither is this jibulabulani ball business. The teams who pass to each other seem not to suffer.
Poor selections and poor play has blighted us, and whilst lots of vitriol heads in the direction of Heskey, we’d do well to remember that the main culprits on Friday were Gerrard and Rooney for having zero patience on the ball and terrible control. Lampard wasn’t much better. At least Barry gave us some sort of stable platform to build from. I expect the introductions of Joe Cole and Jermain Defoe or Peter Crouch, together with the grim reality that only a win will do to vastly liven things up on Wednesday. Here’s hoping. What’s most annoying though is that we tend to drift through tournaments being rubbish without any drama. At leas the French do it in style, sending players home, having mass collective gallic huffs and generally making a meal of it.
I missed the Saturday games whilst celebrating a wedding, so was again refreshed and hungry for football on Sunday. The games didn’t disappoint. Paraguay deservedly won, New Zealand pulled off a heroic performance not seen since, err, Algeria on Friday, and Brazil and Ivory Coast served up a treat, complete with glorious goals, full-team scuffles, simulation and red cards. Perfect.
Tonight I will hopefully enjoy seeing North Korea do one over Portugal, Spain return to form with aplomb and I also look forward to seeing Chile too (I’ve learned how to spell it since I last mentioned them).
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