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bradley headstone - drawn to any world cup disgrace

31 days later

Posted: July 13th 2010
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Blimey! Where did June go? More to the point, how long is 2014 away?

On Sunday afternoon, in a quiet moment while it was my partner’s turn to follow my son’s aimless wanderings round a country park, my thoughts turned to the final taking place in a few hours time. I found myself trying to think of the first final I could remember. It ought to have been 1974, I have distinct memories of the 1973 and 1974 FA cup finals but any memory I have of the World Cup I think has been grafted on at a later date.

1978 I really went for, believing the impossible dream of Scotland but secretly delighted by the Argentinean squad numbering that saw Ardiles wearing number one and charmed by the tinny hiss on the commentary, the sign of a proper overseas broadcast.

England joined in for 1982, but had long gone before the final, I missed all the goals as I was in the middle of a 50 hour five-a-side Marathon, but despite Tardelli’s epic celebration, the best thing about that final was the come-uppance of the dirty West Germans.

I was at Glastonbury as England bowed out of 1986 and a couple of weeks later I watched the final in a little pub later playing cricket, those idyllic days of summer eh! I don’t remember if it was a great final particularly, though 3-2 suggests a bit of action. I do remember that Argentina had a brick outhouse of a defender called Brown, nothing significant other than it stopped Motty or Brian Moore getting too carried away and attacking every name with vowel heavy relish.

Hardly anyone in England remembers that there was a final in 1990. To all intents and purposes there wasn’t.

1994...no, nothing to report here.

1998 was different, though the game itself is overshadowed by the Ronaldo shenanigans.

Rather shamefully I couldn’t remember who’d won the 2002 final; this again suggests that it wasn’t great shakes. This tournament is remembered for the exuberance of the hosts and exorcising of Beckhams Argentinean ghost rather than the winners (Brazil by the way).

Germany in 2006 was a good tournament, these things are always jollied along by the hosts’ success and so unlikely was their progress that their eventual demise in a fantastic game against Italy left one feeling gutted for them and slightly off balance that you could feel this way for a German team.

The warm fuzzy feeling ended the moment Zidane’s bullet like forehead met Materazzi’s heavily inked chest and an incident rather than quality packed final would be remembered for one thing.

The conclusion I drew was that World Cup finals tend to be dramatic rather than fantastic, the 2010 edition would be no different. All the football was left to the 3rd place rainfest between the Germans and the Forlan inspired Uruguay. The Drama was centred on how long it would take to send a Dutch player off. Nobody would’ve put money on the 100th minute, not since Sir Alf had a pop at the Argies in 66 has a team been so roundly vilified.

It’s fair to assume that had the Netherlands attempted to out-football the Spanish they’d have took a beating, but at least they could look at themselves in the mirror. Instead they took turns at talking lumps out of the opposition, destroying the game in the process.

The reaction of the Dutch fans was one of despair at their team’s tactics; this was in marked contrast to the reaction of the players who put the blame on Referee, Howard Webb. He had a shocking night, not particularly his fault, but when his head hit the pillow on Saturday night, this wasn’t on his dream agenda.

Spain deserved to win, they are the best team. They’ve rarely hit the heights of Euro 08 but just because we’re in the midst of a ticki –tacki backlash we can’t ignore the fact that they are the one team that concentrate on their game, not stopping their opponents.

I’m weary of being told how dull it’s all been, 64 football games in 31 days, what’s not to love about that. I’ll retain some happy memories too!

Diego Forlan, magnificent, has any player re-established a reputation so fully. The ball crashing against the bar with the last kick of his World Cup was exquisite agony.

France, the whole pantomime, brilliant.

Asamoah Gyan, his goal against the USA was great, but the last minute penalty horlix followed by getting up to take the first in the shoot out was special.

Chris Waddle’s rant, it takes a lot to make me loathe and detest anybody more than Alan Green but the dull mullet has managed it. I don’t necessarily disagree with some of his childish finger pointing, but what right has he to lose it on national radio. It’s typical behaviour of the class of 1990, a disappointing team who bumbled their way to near glory and have been dining off it ever since. The system that he accused of producing poor quality, underachieving  players unable to cope with pressure, produced him...a poor quality player who underachieved and was unable to cope with pressure.

Vincente Del Bosque, the obelisk in charge of the champions, lugubrious gold.

Maradona, mad as a biscuit.

Clive Tyldesley, for leaving gaps and hanging questions in his commentary even though there was no ‘expert’ summariser sat next to him (and they say he’s not a robot!)

John Terry, for confirming that not only is he a thug but a coward too.

Mesut Ozil, for being called Mesut UUUUUZZZIL.

Germany, ten years ago they realised that their national team was in crisis and only by investing in and creating the environment for a proper youth development system. I wonder how that worked out for them.

Japan v Denmark, I enjoyed that very much.

Dancing Footballers is there a more uplifting sight than eleven footballers singing and dancing out on to pitch.

Mark Lawrenson, the sound of his voice when Torres pulled up injured in the final...another Liverpool season is over before it starts.

I could go on, in truth, despite England’s abject failure, the lack of big stars coming to the party and the negative tactics employed by certain teams; I rather enjoyed the whole shebang.

The new season starts in four weeks; I might have a gap year!