Saturday, July 03, 2010
When You See Me in the Pouring Rain
I have to confess that once England go out of a competition, I lose a bit of interest. I continue watching, but the frisson has gone, and unless it is a really, really good game, I remain aloof, dispassionate. Luckily, yesterday was a day of high drama, and the denouement of the Ghana game was almost unbearable to watch.
I am glad Brazil have gone out, not because I have a dislike for Brazil, but because I have a dislike of the commentators undue reverence towards them. Every pass is exquisite, every nonchalant flick is the work of some innately gifted God of football. Towards the end yesterday, I kept hearing stuff like "time for the best team in the world to perform" and "time for the best player (Kaka) in the world to perform". I beg your chuffing pardon, but there is no recent evidence for this kind of horse shit, and I am glad that we will no longer be subject to it. Until Messi turns up this afternoon.
Suarez seems rather pleased with himself, which I find unfortunate. I wouldn't jump on the moral bandwagon which is currently rolling along at great pace, but I would prefer to see him at least pretend to be a bit shame faced. Apparently FIFA are considering extending his ban so that he misses the final, if Uruguay get there; bloody nonsense. They might just as well ban the German goalie. He knew he had cheated against England, and boasted and joked about it afterwards. I wish the buggers played with more of the Corinthian spirit about them, but they don't, and singling out Suarez for harsh treatment would be unjust. The free kick which led to the incident was a bit of a dodgy decision anyway, was it not?
Peter Singer on cheating in football
The two best teams so far meet this afternoon, and I can't wait for it, which probably means it will be a shit game. There will be strife in our house. The Mrs seems to have fallen in love with Maradona. I really don't know what she sees in short fat chaps who struggle to control their appetites! Youngest idolises Messi. I have been banished to the smaller, less comfy settee. It will be noisy. She can be quite excitable. Hopefully, the marriage will survive.
This world cup has been enlivened by the Mrs discovering a previously hidden love of the game. Actually, that's putting it a bit strong, but she has been watching it, and enjoying it. I have been enjoying her enjoying it, because she provides a non stop narrative on the action that she is observing, and asks constant questions. I wish I had been keeping notes. Here is some of the stuff, up with which, I have had to put:
"OOOHHH, THAT'S NOT NICE, HE SHOULD BE SENT OFF FOR THAT!" (After the most innocuous of pushes)
"IS THAT MARADONA, I CAN'T BELIEVE HE IS SO TINY………..AAWW, LOVE HIM" (Every time Maradona appears on screen)
"IS THAT THE SPANISH MANAGER? I LIKE HIS FACE, I'M GOING FOR SPAIN NOW!) (Every time Del Bosque appears on screen)
"IT WOULD BE NICE IF THEY COULD SCORE NOW" (Every time a team goes behind)
"WHY DON'T THE PLAYERS JUST STOP PLAYING WHEN THEY KNOW THEY ARE OFFSIDE, YOU CAN'T EXPECT THE REF TO SEE EVERYTHING"
'I WISH THEY WOULD STOP SPITTING……WHY DO THEY KEEP SPITTING???!!!)
'WHY ARE THERE SO MANY FOULS? THERE WEREN'T SO MANY FOULS IN THE SIXTIES AND SEVENTIES)
" THEIR BODIES TAKE A RIGHT BATTERING, THEY MUST BE BLACK AND BLUE BY THE TIME THEY HAVE FINISHED; I THOUGHT THEY COULD ONLY USE THEIR FEET"
"WHY ARE THEY ALL GOING TOWARDS THE SAME GOAL" (when a corner has been awarded)
It's been hilarious.