Three and in – not just another football blog

Since the 2018 World Cup was awarded to Russia, England have been up in arms.  There’s been dismay at defeat, followed by renewed accusations of corruption, and even rumours of a breakaway organisation to overthrow football’s world governing body.

One can only wonder: if England had triumphed in this competition, if Prince William had poured Jack Warner enough cups of tea, or David Beckham had given Michel Platini enough sensual back-rubs, would we still be calling for FIFA to be brought to justice?

I don’t believe for a minute that the English bidding team were naive enough not to understand how the committee votes were won and lost.  If they were, all they needed to do was watch Panorama on the Monday night to understand the kind of corruption they were dealing with.  I’m not one to say ‘once a crook, always a crook’, but Jack Warner is a convicted ticket tout.  Fact.  And he’s not the only FIFA delegate with a rubber-stamped, official black mark against his name.

The one foreign vote England did win, that of Issa Hayatou, was from a man in the line of Panorama’s fire.  And how did that come about?  Because the FA promised to back him in his bid to take over from Sepp Blatter.

England may not have followed Russia and Quatar’s alleged lead by offering cash for votes.  But equally it’s not as if they launched their bid on its technical facets alone.  They committed to friendlies all over the world in a bid to win global favour.  These would have brought revenue, as would their ‘Football United’ policy.  Whilst there’s no suggestion they were attempting to line the pockets of individuals, the message was simple: vote for us, and your federation will benefit financially.

As soon as there was the slightest sniff of corruption, England’s bid should have been withdrawn.  Now, having lost, legitimate accusations sound like nothing more than sour grapes.  By participating in a charade of a system we have lost the moral high-ground.

Our presence among the bidders endorsed what we already knew to be a flawed, corrupt process.  Like Eurovision, with more old men in suits.  To point fingers at men we were so keen to woo just a matter of days ago is hypocritical in the extreme.

Still, it’s not all doom and gloom.  It is better to be a nation with a honest and free-spoken press than to host a World Cup.  It’s right that the truth was told – it’s just a shame that ethics of the bid committee only became an issue once we were defeated.

Fulham fans are a tame bunch.  Their reputation for middle-class niceness precedes them.  One half expects them to turn up at games with a picnic hamper under one arm, and an order form for a Wills & Kate Commemorative Plate under the other.  It’s rare to see them embroiled in any sort of nastiness or controversy.  Which is why their actions at the Emirates Stadium on Saturday were so surprising.

Instead of their usual polite clapping and twirling of rattles you thought had vanished from football grounds in the 1950s, every time Andrey Arshavin got on the ball they would join as an unruly chorus to boo him.

Why, you wonder? What had he done to so upset the Fulham fans.

Well, this:

And no, I don’t mean that he composed the electro horror that accompanies the start of the video.  What offended them so much was Arshavin’s speech in the second half of that film, and its assumed impact on Russia’s victory in the 2018 World Cup bid – and England’s subsequent defeat.

It’s just a collection of honest, humble words from a guy who simply wants the best for his country.  It’s not as if he’ll get to play in the World Cup on his home turf.  When asked if he expected to make the squad for 2018, aged 37, Arshavin quipped:

“I have no chance.  Plus, if I can play then it means Russia will have a bad team, so I hope not.”

He’s right.  At times, Arshavin looks as if he won’t last eighty minutes, so another eight years would be a bit ambitious.

Booing Arshavin for England’s failures is a symptom of the same conceit and sense of entitlement that sees English squads perform so badly in tournaments, wherever they’re staged.

What’s more, the Fulham fans are directing their ire at the wrong man.  Arshavin didn’t make the decision himself, and it’s probably fair to say his speech had little impact on the voting.  Those decisions were made long ago, and were probably more influenced by Roubles than Rhetoric.

DATELINE: December 2019

Breaking news: There was shock and outrage today as it was announced that the 2030 World Cup is to be held in outer space.

After a series of bids and presentations FIFA executives voted to hold the tournament on oil rich Mars which was colonised just 8 months ago. As yet there isn’t a single football stadium on the Dubai/Texas owned planet but architects drawings and some sincere sounding promises from men in robes and cowboy hats were enough to convince Sepp Blatter and his henchmen.

FIFA say fans will love the atmosphere

“This is a momentous day for the sport”, said Blatter, rolling around a gilded bed, gently fingering one of the four naked women provided to him by the Mars delegation. “For years we’ve dreamed of taking football to another planet and finally it’s happened”.

FIFA have rejected claims from the unsuccessful countries that the World Cup will be inaccessbile to fans saying that they have personally developed a safe method of interplanetary travel and packages would be available from all FIFA approved travel agents.

“WTF?!”, twittered England’s bid ambassador Rio Ferdinand, “Sum 1 needs 2 bitch slap Blatter”, while King David and Queen Victoria were said to be ‘not amused’ by the decision.

However, one leading sports analyst said that such a move was inevitable. Peregrine Groves, of Groves, Caesar and Woodcock, said”Look, the minute they started doing stupid stuff like having tennis matches on the top of skyscrapers we were moving into this kind of territory. And the Qatar decision only aided this. If you can have a World Cup in a desert then Mars is not really such a stretch. At least you can have a beer on the red planet”.

FIFA has long been dogged with accusations of corruption and lack of transparency. The decision to retrospectively award the 1966 World Cup to Germany after technology proved that Geoff Hurst’s shot didn’t cross the line caused great controversy in 2017 while debate still rages as to why video replays still can’t be used when it is clear Platini’s ‘One ref per player’ scheme has caused more harm than good.

Radio Free Asia reported last week that North Korea’s World Cup team were subjected to a public barracking upon their return from South Africa. Threeandin wonders how such a story might read if the same fate had awaited England…

England’s national football team were given a marathon public reprimand after a disastrous World Cup campaign, including a 1-4 rout at the hands of Germany that has been blamed on leader Fabio Capello’s inept orders, Radio Five Live reported Monday.

Citing unnamed English sources, 5Live said the team were made to stand on a stage outside the FA’s Soho headquarters, just three days after they returned from South Africa, and subjected to ideological criticism for six hours.

Around 400 prominent English football personalties, including Marlon Harewood and Louise Redknapp, as well other athletes and sport students, were apparently part of the audience. Andy Townsend, the former Englishman, pointed out the mistakes of each player from a specially deployed “tactics truck”.

Individuals were targeted by the baying crowd. Emile Heskey was made to wear a pair of false donkey ears, whilst David James was forced to sign a contract with Championship side Bristol City. Shaun Wright-Phillips is expected to undertake community service as a garden gnome, and former captain John Terry has been sentenced to a lifetime’s monogamy. Jamie Carragher was exempt from the session, on account of the fact that his nationality is officially registered as ‘Scouse’.

Manager Fabio Capello did not escape criticism: the FA’s Trevor Brooking stole his glasses and chanted “speccy speccy four eyes” as the coach wept in to Franco Baldini’s ample bosom.

An English intelligence source said, “In the past, English athletes and coaches who performed badly were criticised in the press and obliged to make poorly scripted pizza adverts. Considering the high hopes English had for the World Cup, the regime could have done worse things to the team than just reprimand them for their ideological shortcomings. They could have made them be pundits for ITV.”

Lawrence Gray-Hodson

Threeandin is proud to welcome a man who made his name in the upper reaches of Division 2 in the 1970s and 80s as well as being a Scotland and England international, Lawrence Gray-Hodson.

He’ll write exclusively for us as the season progresses, dealing with all the issues the domestic game throws up. In his first column though he looks back to the World Cup.

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When you’ve been around the game of football for as long as I have there’s very little that surprises you. Let me tell you, I’ve seen things in dressing rooms and around the back of nightclubs that wouldn’t make the back pages in a million years. It makes the idea of Gazza turning up with chicken and lager for a mentally disturbed murderer seem downright normal.

That’s why, after the World Cup final, I had to laugh at the people who jumped on their ivory towers and looked for the immoral high ground when it came to pundits reactions to the game. There was a lot of focus on how rough the Dutch were. I watched the game with Rodney Marsh and Stan Bowles and, over a few jars of sangria in Marbella, we chuckled away to ourselves about how times have changed. You think Holland played dirty? You were never on the end of a Johnny Giles reducer or a Peter Storey fisting.

Compared to the games we played in the men in orange were like precious ballerinas handing out flowers and lemon cakes to the Spanish. This new breed of fan who thinks he’s so clever because he has a blog audience of a few dozen and some backslapping followers on Twitter just doesn’t understand the game of football at all. Sure, they can talk about diamonds this and pyramids that, deep lying midfielders and false 9s but you talk to any ex-pro and they’ll tell you none of those things matter at all.

The reality of the game is out there on the pitch, the 22 men doing battle with each other. You don’t see any of them out there with text books, do you? Of course not. Books are for libraries and the decent class of waiting room that doesn’t lumber you with months old issues of Time or Reader’s Digest.

That’s why when they accuse British pundits, who everybody knows are the best pundits in the world because we invented the game and have been talking about it longer than anyone, of double-standards it makes me want to choke them on my own vomit. I lost count of how many times I heard them say great men like Alan Hansen and Andy Townsend were hypocrites for criticising the Dutch’s foul play while saying nothing about teams who play like that in the English league.

Are they stupid or what? They simply don’t get it. If they can’t see there’s a difference between foreign brutality and British brutality then they need to open their eyes. Sure, some foreigners think they can kick opponents as hard as we can, maybe that’s true, but they do it differently. They’re sly, underhand, devious and full of trickery. I remember playing an away game in Italy back in the 70s and the minute the ref’s back was turned they would literally gouge your eyes out. Poor Wilf Mortenson ended up playing the second half with an eye-patch on just so no bits of mud would get into the socket.

Not us though. We wouldn’t stoop to their level and if we had to go in two footed on somebody we made sure it was in full view of the officials. That’s the difference. That’s what sets the English game apart and that’s why it curdles my loins when people accuse the likes of Ryan Shawcross and Martin Taylor of being monsters. There was nothing devious about what they did, there was nothing nasty and foreign, it was good, old fashioned, honest British brutality, in the best traditions of the game.

Did they get red cards? Of course. They took their punishment like men, unlike the sneaky, whinging immigrant de Jong or van Bommel who wouldn’t have lasted two minutes on the field with Chopper Harris or Trevor Cherry. As for their so-called victims, well they show their mettle by running off scared to places like Ukraine, which in my day didn’t even exist!

So when Hansen and Co criticise the Dutch for what they did, it’s not hypocrisy. It’s bravery. They’re trying to maintain the standards of the game in these fair isles. Everything else has been homogenised by the EEC, or the EU as they like to be called now, don’t let our football go the same way.

I pray that the bosses at the BBC and ITV, who know more about the game than the plebs who watch it week in, week out, don’t succumb to the populist notion that these men are bad for the game. Nobody wants to see a player get his leg broken – except for Billy Bremner, he loved that – but serious injury is part of the game, always has been, always will be. Perhaps it will take going through a season without the spectacle of a man trying to hold his leg together to make these idiots realise what they’re missing.

Let’s hope that never happens.

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Lawrence will be happy to answer any questions regarding the article, or anything else, in the comments section!

Hello guys.  Or, as the Saffers would cheerfully say, “Howzit oaks”.  (Grammar fans: be not alarmed.  Although ‘Howzit’ would appear to constitute a compressed question, it has come to lose that linguistic inflection.  See: ‘Wassup’ (US) for similar.)

After 24 hours of travel, 23 of which were accompanied by a screaming child, I am back in England, ready to share with you my findings from my African sojourn.

It’s perfectly safe.  Sort of.
“The media over-exaggerate the danger,” we were told.  “It’s perfectly safe.”

“Just be sure to never leave your house on foot.  Or get out of the car.  I wouldn’t leave the windows open, either.  And lock the doors.”

Turns out it is perfectly safe, as long as you’re surrounded at all times by concrete, metal, and probably some kind of electrified security system.

In that respect, it’s one of the most claustrophobic places I’ve ever been.  I live in London, where the expense of public transport and my inability to drive mean I walk or cycle everywhere.  I’m sure I would have been just fine had I done the same in Johannesburg, but there is such a deep-rooted and understandable climate of fear that even the suggestion seemed preposterous.

Everything has its price
And almost everything is negotiable.  It’s like a meeting with Harry Redknapp: you’re never quite sure what the total cost of anything is going to be, and where on Earth that money might end up.

Example: my fellow travellers and I booked a private tour of Soweto for 450 Rand.  It looked a good deal – until, that is, we realised the tour would consist of largely of being taken round the tour guide’s various local friends, being strongly encouraged to tip them for having a look at their street.  Final cost: 800 Rand.

They have politically incorrect chocolate
If there was one nation where a chocolate bar suggestive of a possible racial hierarchy would be inappropriate, it’s South Africa.

And yet, against all odds, I give you Cadbury’s Top Deck:

They love their ‘soccer’
Prior to the World Cup, football was regarded as a ‘black sport’.  A white face at an Orlando Pirates game was a rarity.  Despite that, the English Premier League has long been popular across race, social class, and background.  Nearly everyone we met had a favourite English side, with Man United and Liverpool dominating.

The only shame is that the World Cup fever will not translate in to a boom for South African soccer.  A lovely woman I met at a braai (an Afrikaans word for ‘barbecue’ that the South Africans use in one of their many attempts to differentiate themselves from Aussies) exemplified the prevailing attitude among white South Africans:

“I was never in to soccer before but I’ve enjoyed the World Cup so much that I’m going to watch all the Premier League games when the new season starts.”

They have a Big Five, not a Big Four
In England we obsess about the Big Four of United, Chelsea, Liverpool and Arsenal.  In South Africa they’re positively nonchalant about the presence of their Big Five: Rhino, Leopard, Elephant, Lion and Buffalo.  I saw the latter three on a mind-blowing trip to the Kruger National Park.  When a 17ft giraffe wonders out across the road in front of you it’s all you can do to stop humming the Jurassic Park theme music.

The roles of Man City and Spurs are played by the cheetah and wild dog – pushing for entry in to the Big Five but not quite taken seriously enough.

It’s a nation in recovery
Although the country is clearly in an infinitely better position than twenty years ago, the ghost of Apartheid still haunts South Africa.  It’s a rainbow nation, but it’s predominantly a black and white rainbow, with distinct bands of colour and little room for blurring.  The unified joy with which the World Cup was greeted will play a role in increasing national morale, but the cost of the world class stadiums still outweigh the investment in basic housing for the country’s poorest people.

They are extraordinarily warm people
In spite of any underlying socio-political problems, about which I concede I’m not remotely qualified to talk with any authority, the people of South Africa welcomed fans from across the world with warmth, generosity and excitement.  This is not a country who are used to having such diverse groups in such huge numbers descend upon them – they appreciated the fans, and did all they could to make their stay as much fun as possible.  Almost to a man, they asked, “Will you come back?”  They wanted to change the perception of their country, and I think they managed it.  There’ve been better World Cups, but there can’t have been many better hosts.

Now that the show is well and truly over what will be the lasting impact of this World Cup?

Will it be in South Africa which has spent a fortune on hosting the tournment? Probably not. 355,000 unsold tickets, 450,000 unbooked hotel rooms and the problems the host nation have, masked as they were by the greatest show on earth, become ‘real life’ again.

From a footballing perspective is there much to take from it? Not a great deal. Spain are worthy champions and play a brand of football that has the aesthetes purring but it’s not a system that is likely to be copied by many. It requires a great many things. Players of exceptional technical quality, players who are extremely fit and motivated and players who are prepared to work harder without the ball than with it. Those qualities in one player are rare enough, to be able to find a whole team who can play like that is going to be beyond most nations.

What we’ll most likely to see is a continuation of systems which close the gap between the established football countries and the so-called lesser nations. Teams like Slovenia, New Zealand, Japan, Slovakia and South Korea showed teams like France, Italy, Denmark and Cameroon that there’s no automatic right to go far just because of history or reputation.

However, I think there’s one area in which this World Cup has had a real impact and that’s television. I don’t mean the coverage itself but the presentation and more specifically the punditry. As journalists and football fans use Twitter to interact in a way they have never been able to before the almost stone-age approach of the TV networks has been shown up for the lazy, outdated mess it is.

At the touch of a timeline are journalists with specific areas of expertise, blogs and bloggers who cover everything from the smallest leagues in the world to the largest, from systems to tactics as well as in-depth analysis of players and managers and teams. The wealth of football knowledge is quite extraordinary. So when these football fans turn on their TVs to hear ex-pros providing the same tired soundbites they’ve been spouting for years it’s in stark contract to the well-informed stuff they can get online, all day, every day.

"He's hit it and it's gone in the back of the net"

You don’t have to look far to find examples of their lack of knowledge and insight. Countless blogs have taken them to task and rightly so. If you’re going to work as an ‘expert’ then your knowledge of the game should reflect that. Not knowing anything about a team, its players, the manager or the way they play simply isn’t good enough. Mocking a fellow pundit because he namechecks a player from an ‘obscure’ country, the way Hansen did to Lee Dixon, isn’t just a display of ignorance but one of contempt to fans and viewers.

Jingoism should play no part in your analysis of the game. The ludicrous claim by BBC’s Guy Mowbray that ‘one, maybe two’ of Germany’s team would get into the England XI was typical of the kind of rubbish spouted by the English channels. A 1-0 win over Slovenia was, apparently, enough to convince nearly every single pundit and commentator on the BBC and ITV that England were ‘back’. Instead of the analytical view which most viewers took, that England’s performances were essentially abject, they eschewed their roles as analysts and became cheerleaders.

They’re not there to tub-thump, they’re there to give viewers an insight into the game. Having pride in one’s country is fine, and hoping they’ll win is also fine, but to ignore all the evidence in front of you just to do a bit of flag-waving is not.

Look at the viewing figures for the final. BBC’s viewing figures peaked at 17.9m, ITV’s at just 3.8m. The commercial network’s coverage has long been considered inferior to both the BBC and Sky and with pundits like Andy Townsend, Kevin Keegan and Gareth Soutgate (a man who writes a far better game than he speaks) doling out the usual platitudes it’s no wonder they were so far behind.

That’s not to say the BBC are much better. They’re just the least worst when compared with ITV. Yes, production, presentation and appearance is all much better and much more professional, but surely now it’s time to call a halt to the Shearer, Lawrenson, Hansen era. As long as we continue to persist with the delusion that ex-professionals know more about the game than anyone else and are better qualified to speak about it then things won’t improve.

As the BBC pays Hansen £1m a year to call the Dutch ‘thugs’ for the treatment of the Spanish – while defending the same rigorous style of play when Premier League teams get ‘stuck in’ to opponents who try to play football – then what hope is there? When Mark Lawrenson spends most of his time co-commentating in a game by complaining about what a chore it is then isn’t it time to give the job to somebody with some passion and enthusiasm who can make it interesting?

There are articulate, knowledgeable football journalists who could, if given the opportunity, improve television coverage a great deal. People who can speak English properly and use the correct tenses. Call me a snob but my toes curl every time I hear a Jamie Redknapp style mangling of the English language. There were pundits for whom English was not their first language who spoke better than some of the ‘natives’. Why shouldn’t we expect high standards, especially when they’re being paid so much money?

So, if there’s anything to be taken from the World Cup in South Africa it’s that fans want, and deserve, better from those who are given the platform to talk about the game for a living. As our knowledge of the game increases, as we learn from each other and from those with real expertise, it’s not acceptable that we get the same old schtick from guys who are too lazy and too comfortable to accept they need to keep up with the times.

As France Football’s Philippe Auclair famously commented on Arseblog’s podcast:

In Britain almost every analyst is a former player – it’s as though ‘if you were a horse you could be a jockey.’

If the World Cup in South Africa has taught us anything, it’s that it’s time to send some of these horses to the glue factory.

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Bonus reading: Two Hundred Percent has a great piece about much the same thing.

WINNERS

Andres Iniesta
Scorer of the crucial goal, Iniesta made a mockery of his earlier reluctance to shoot with a thumping finish across the goalkeeper, followed by a moving tribute to Daniel Jarque. For which he was booked.

Cesc Fabregas
Showed why Arsenal are so keen to keep him and Barca to sign him with a vital cameo. Twice came close before providing the assist for Iniesta’s goal. The Arsenal fan in me hopefully asks: why move to Barca when you can play with them all for Spain?

Diego Forlan
Rightly awarded the Golden Ball in the aftermath of yesterday’s game. For a player whose side didn’t reach the final to take home the biggest individual prize shows the scale of his achievement.

Thomas Muller
Golden Boot winner in his first tournament. Miroslav Klose may have failed to overtake Ronaldo’s goalscoring record, but Muller is young enough and perhaps good enough to have a go.

LOSERS

Arjen Robben
Missed two vital chances: one to score, one to get Carles Puyol sent off. Andres Iniesta wasn’t as forgiving, which led to the dismissal of…

John Heitinga
Had a solid game, but suffered the ignominy of being sent off in the biggest game of his career. Inevitable, considering the performance of…

Howard Webb
I feel a bit sorry for the Englishman who progressed furthest in the tournament. Holland’s heavy-handed tactics meant he had little choice but to take a hard line, but that meant the game ended up being bitty and stilted. There were more bookings than in a restaurant serving free food. Webb won’t forget his final in a hurry.

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As ever, and for the final time, your suggestions are welcome.  Cheers guys.

Lastmanback’s World Cup XI, playing in a 4-3-3.

Goalkeeper: Diego Benaglio - in a tournament in which no keeper really stood out the one that sticks most in my head is Benaglio. He looked solid, made good saves and despite going home after the group stages did his reputation the world of good.

Right back: Philip Lahm – If you want a right back who can attack, you have to look at Sergio Ramos. If you want one who can attack and defend, the German captain is the man.

Centre-half: Carles Puyol – The Barcelona captain looked leggy at times and it’s clear he’s lost a yard of pace but for sheer will to win and no nonsense defending he has to be picked.

Diego Lugano

Centre-half: Diego Lugano – It was between him and Gerard Pique but the Uruguayan captain gets the nod. They missed him through injury in the semi-final against Holland and ultimately it showed.

Left back: Joan Capdevila – the suggested weak link in the Spanish defence was never truly exposed by anyone. Might not get the kudos playing for Villarreal but he was solid and consistent throughout.

Midfield: Marc van Bommel – controversial, perhaps, and I’ve expressed my thoughts about his play in previous posts but there’s no denying he played a crucial role in Holland reaching the final. He was, quite simply, the most effective defensive midfielder of the tournament (as well as the dirtiest).

Midfield: Xavi – ran the show for Spain. So much of what they do depends on him, his distribution and metronomic movement makes him the best central midfield player in the world.

Midfield: Thomas Mueller – the Bayern youngster scored five goals from midfield and announced himself on the world stage. He’s got a brilliant future ahead of him.

Forward: Andrés Iniesta – sometimes a little marginal for my liking but when he’s in a game he really makes an impact. Scored the winner in the final to ensure his contribution to Spain’s campaign was decisive and historic.

Forward: David Villa – five goals this time around and his record at international level is incredible. I feel he’s better playing alongside another striker, as the lone frontman the game can pass him by a bit.

Striker: Diego Forlan – The Uruguayan has proved time and again in La Liga that his time at Manchester United was an aberration. He’s a consistent, exciting striker who scored some brilliant goals and thoroughly deserved the Golden Ball.

Subs: Casillas, Pique, Schweinsteiger, Özil, Fabregas, Klose, Gyan

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Hogger‘s not too different World Cup XI, also playing in a 4-3-3.

Goalkeeper: Iker Casillas - Captain of the champions, winner of the golden gloves, and maker of a critical save to deny Arjen Robben in the final.  Is there a better keeper in world football?

Right back: Maicon – A monster of an athlete who deserved better than a quarter-final exit.  Scored a phenomenal goal against North Korea and almost matched Carlos Alberto’s 1970 wonder goal after another storming run.

Centre-half: Carles Puyol – A cracking header to secure Spain’s place in the final, and leadership from the back throughout the tournament.

Centre-half: Per Mertesacker – At the last World Cup, Mertesacker was like Bambi on ice.  This time round, he was solid, secure, and almost managed to deny Spain in the semi-final.  Surely worth a flutter for a Premier League side?

Left back: Gio Van Bronkhurst – Hit the best strike of the tournament and led Holland to the final in his last month as a footballer.

Midfield: Bastian Schweinsteiger – Has matured in to an outstanding holding midfielder: confident on the ball and tenacious off it.

Midfield: Xavi – What Last Man Back said.  The conductor at the heart of Spain’s orchestra.  The oil in the engine.  The milk in their tea.  An oustanding player who is so good that it’s becoming quite boring.

Mesut Özil

Midfield: Mesut Ozil – Werder Bremen’s goggly-eyed playmaker was the man I most enjoyed watching at this tournament.  He was involved in most of what was good about Germany – the tournament’s most potent attacking force.

Forward: Thomas Muller – Playing in an usual role on the right of a 4-5-1 or 4-3-3, Muller scored five goals and made three assists to claim the Golden Boot.

Forward: Diego Forlan – Delighted that justice prevailed and Forlan claimed the Golden Ball.  A one man force of nature who propelled an otherwise ordinary Uruguay side to the semi-finals.

Striker: David Villa – Simply put: the world’s most clinical finisher.

Subs: Vincent Enyeama, Carlos Salcido, Kevin Prince Boateng, Andres Iniesta, Miroslav Klose, Asamoah Gyan

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As always your thoughts and comments are welcomed. Have we missed anyone out? Was Rob Green robbed? Was Rooney ruined? Comment away.

Service stations have proven fertile ground for meeting renowned football folk at this World Cup. On our way to England v Germany we met former Aston Villa centre-half Martin Laursen and ‘Sir’ Les Ferdinand, still awaiting conviction for impersonating a Knight of the Realm.

On the six hour drive from Johannesburg to Durban to attend our fourth different stadium for our fifth game, we topped even that by stumbling in to Bafana Bafana’s opening day hero: Siphiwe Tshabalala.

As we stopped to get some petrol, we noticed a small crowd gathering around a gigantic pair of sunglasses, behind which there appeared to a tiny man. And not just any tiny man. This was Tshabalala: scorer of a scorcher of a left-footed strike that defied the otherwise problematic aerodynamics of the Jabulani to breathe hope, life, and expectancy in to the tournament. Plus, he had a funny name. A hero was born.

Tshabalala was also on the way to the game, accompanied by another Kaiser Chiefs player. He handed a child a pair of Bafana shorts, prompting tears of joy. He high-fived and posed and pretended to be a rapper, and then, as quick as he had arrived, he was gone. I had grabbed a few seconds of his starlight. And when it’s only due to last fifteen minutes, a few seconds has to go down as a significant percentage.

There follow a few other photos from the day.

Other than cult figures of African football, there isn’t a huge amount to see on the six hour drive down to Durban. It’s a distressing feeling when you realise you’re desperate for the loo and look out the window to see this:

Not a Little Chef in sight. Still, this is a stadium well worth the trip.

It’s Wembley-esque arch heralds your arrival at an arena which matches Joburg’s Soccer City for aesthetic excellence.

The only disappointment is the distance between the fans and the pitch at either end of the stadium – one of the inevitable downsides of making provisions for athletics tracks and the like.

What makes a stadium, more than the architecture, are the fans.

Some can’t help but look stupid.

And some can’t help but be stupid.

But they all make up a bigger, brighter picture.

Most of the locals and neutrals seemed to be siding with Spain, and so went home happy.

The match itself was a little under-whelming: Germany’s defensive unit was impressive but unable to understand the sheer weight of Spanish pressure. It sets up an exciting final which will crown a new Champion. I’m as yet unsure where I’ll be watching, but barring a miracle, it won’t be in the stadium.

Start praying now.