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Oh baby....

Day 2 of the greatest show on Earth.... started uneventfully for yours truly, a poor start to my commitment to watching all of the 7:30 am kick offs this summer, as I turned on the TV midway through the second half.... "but it is only Greece v Sth Korea" I told myself... , it'll be a different story for Algeria v Slovenia tomorrow...

As it proved, the Korean goal after 6 minutes really confused the Greeks who thought they could just defend like their 2004 heroes, and surely that will work.... alas not. A speedy exit awaits, but not before they play 14 men behind the ball against Argentina....

Speaking of which, an intriguing game of 'attack vs defence' followed with Argentina taking on Nigeria, with the former seemingly able to attack at will, while Nigeria seemed to not really want to be the team having to playing defence (judging by the poor effort of the art they demonstrated for much of the game). Great debut from Manager Diego though. Pulled out all of the stops in shedding the tracksuit and squeezing himself into some very dashing attire. It was his command of the technical area that was just top drawer though, he stalked every blade of grass, and on at least two occasions stood directly behind a Nigerian taking a throw-in. I couldn't work out whether he was just over excited and trying to ensure he got himself on TV, or he was whispering sweet Spanish obscenities down the necks of the opposing players. Either way, its good to have you back El Diego.

After that game, all that was left was to soak up the atmosphere and build up for the most anticipated game of Soccerball in these parts since Pele played over here (when he was old and needed the money for his viagra). It was at this point that my day took a turn for the unexpected.....

The wife, is a wonderful, brilliant woman - the love of my life. She's also 7 months pregnant. In all the excitement of the world cup, I think she was starting to feel a little left out bless her... Well, no more risk of that happening...

At what I initially thought was a bit of an over-reaction to Argentina blowing a 4 on 2 situation in the second half, she began to make uncomfortable noises.... before you could say, "Set the DVR for the game!", we were on our way to the hospital for a full on "baby's a comin" scare. Now, I may be a little behind on my new father books, but every reference I have looked at to date really seemed to indicate a pregnancy was around the NINE month mark.... not seven. This was not in the script.... I have surgery recovery and 59 games to get through first...

In almost comedic fashion we pulled up to the hospital front door, to let myself (and my trusty crutches!) out of the car, leaving the wife to have to go park the car..... yes, this was getting out of control quicker than an Emile Heskey first touch.

A flurry of activity later, and all was well, with mother-to-be resting peacefully and all indications that this was a false alarm and all was well. In another favourable twist, the hospital room had a fairly smart flat screen TV, and once the apparent coast was clear, the remote control was found and Steve McManaman was telling me that we were going to win easily. Rob Green was in goal and Milner playing on the left.

I had big plans for this day, and I'm sure, as did the majority of NYC - I bet it was nuts. I had already tamed down my plans as soon as I knew I would be laid low after my surgery, but still, I did not envisage my reaction to England's first goal at the 2010 World Cup being a stifled cheer in a maternity ward as a nurse talked "lady parts" with the wife.

Given the great start, I began to believe Bananaman's bullish predictions, "I wonder whether it will be 3 or 4 nil?", and safe in the knowledge Capello had this one under control, I turned back to the wife's side and her conversation with the nurse. We were almost done, just one more test...

"what is this test for"
"Oh, this test tells us if the baby is coming in the next 2-3 weeks"

Again, from my strong knowledge gained from my extensive background reading, I was fairly sure that the mrs had a few more weeks than that left to go... no problem, this test should be easy, just like beating these yanks.....

What happened next is not embellished in any way, and is still spooking me as I type. Twenty minutes later, the nurse returns, with the doctor - maybe they heard the TV and wanted to see if Jose Altidore was indeed the American Emile Heskey. They had the test results.......
"it came back positive"

Just at the precise second of the doctor delivering the news, Robert Green, in the corner of my eye - the TV was still blaring at this point, was kneeling down to collect a tame daisy cutter of a shot....

What happened next is all a blur, with no one looking more shocked than a perplexed England goalie - had he subliminally heard the doc's news just as he decided not to put any part of his body other than his pinky behind the ball???

How do I tell my future child one day that my first thought upon hearing of its imminent arrival, was "Aaaaaarrgh, I knew he should have picked Joe Hart!"???

Like an opening game draw though, everything seems to be OK. The test it transpires is like an Aaron Lennon cross.... unpredictable and generally inaccurate, so its not 'dealing with a premature baby while on crutches' type panic stations just yet. What is does mean is an enforced bed rest for the wife (to be tended to by her limping husband), which now means I have some company to watch the games with!

So with that, I must go and practice my knee exercises, something tells me I'm going to need it back working quicker than I thought....

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