As usual, the waiting for the damn thing to kick-off is a total pain (more of a total pain than, dare one suggest, the average Manchester United metatarsal injury in its totality). 
You fill in the hours by watching the slowly ticking clock. Then, you get bored with that so you stick in a video of the highlights of '66, '70, '74 and '82 (everybody misses out '78 cos nobody likes to see a bunch of fascist bullyboys winning the World Cup). You stock up on beer and snacks for your daily World Cup Theme Parties (what the hell do you buy that'll represent North Korea in their first game? It's just like 1990 all over again when we had to make do with bottles of beer with hand-written stickers saying 'Bolivian Oblivion'). You start doing the maths - four points should be enough to qualify, but is isn't always. You start imagining what's going on at the hotels. Who's falling out with whom? Who's getting a last minute knee-trembler? Who's taking performance enhancing chewing gum.
ITV's coverage of the opening ceremony can be summed up in one simple thought. FOR GOD'S SAKE, CHILES, IT'S CALLED "FOOTBALL", NOT "SOC-HER"!! Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. I feel much better now. And, then they brought the giant dung beetle out. I don't think I was on drugs at that point, but I did have to double-check to make sure.
Every time Gareth Southgate opened his mouth, Chiles had a look on his boat that seemed to say 'why the hell did I leave the comfort of the sofa and Christine's loving giggle for this?' More importantly, he managed to talk about Gabriel Clarke being 'embedded in the England camp,' and make it sound less like a gulf war metaphor and more like Big Boys Do The Balerics.
Slippery slope, Adrian, slippery slope. Somewhere, Christine Bleakley is laughing hysterically. Very nice little bit of crap reportage from them concerning Soweto, too. 'It used to be famous for accounting for seventy per cent of all the beer drunk in South Africa.' I think it was slightly more famous for accounting for seventy per cent of 'deaths in police custody occasioned by someone "falling down the stairs of the nick, honest guv."' Give ITV the potential to do something serious and thoughtful and, somehow, they'll conspire to trivialise it. Jim Rosenthal continues to talk utter diarrhoea and get paid for it. Jesus, the man is a fraud - how the hell has he gotten away with it for thirty odd years? 
Kelly Dalglish is to incisive sports reportage what her brother was to the Newcastle United's forward line. Short-lived and not much cop. And, then there was that incessant, senseless whining drone that went on and on all match until it made you want to kick your telly in. But enough about Andy Townsend and his horrible pink shirt, I can live with the vuvuzelas personally.
Bafana Bafana v Meh-H-Ho
Blatter's disgraceful brown-tongued opening speech resembled something from a Nuremberg Rally. Chiles' pre-match comments were almost as bad, instructing ITV's audience that we all had 'to be South Africa fans for the next ninety minutes.' Really? Is that The Law then, is it? I understand the feel-good factor of a host nation - particularly one with a developing, and vibrant football culture - being successful, really I do. And I've got no problem with South Africa, per se. But, I hate being told who I have to support. So, I became an adopted Mexie out of sheer bloodymindedness on the spot!
One of the lines in the Mexican national anthem speaks of 'War, war without truce/The patriotic banners are saturated in waves of blood'? Might be a bit tasty, this. Having said that, South Africa's includes the immortal line 'God bless Africa/Lift her horn on high.' Steady.
The Mexies, unfamiliar in dark blue, almost grabbed a dramatic opener inside two minutes but, thereafter, it settled down to a rather uninvolving first half, the highlight of which was when Jim Beglin's microphone briefly packed-in. Sadly, he got it fixed eventually. Franco missed a free-header at one point and was so annoyed with himself he kicked one of the advertising boards.
I imagine FIFA will give him a ten game suspension and good hard smacked bottom for that. If he'd kicked another player, he might not have even got booked. (Although, the ref was quite good, I thought.) The game got better in the last few minutes of the first half - chances at both ends and Mexican goal chalked-off for offside. And then, it exploded into life early in the second half when Siphiwe Tshabalala scored a great goal after a sweeping four-man move. The South Africans played some delightful stuff but, you always had a feeling they were a bit defensively naive and, with quarter of an hour, left Rafael Márquez, unmarked at the back post, went and equalised. The Africans had a late chance to win it, but Mpehla hit the post. So - decent, unspectacular start. It took its time to get going but, once it got there, it wasn't without some charm. Unlike much of ITV's hugely patronising coverage which often resembled something from the 1950s about a recently discovered lost tribe up the Orinoco.
One down, sixty three to go.
Sacre Bleus v U-Are-Guys
BBC's opening coverage was quite nice - a video of Nelson Mandela's 'Rainbow Nation' speech set to images of the country. Then Gary Lineker did a two minute piece for the South African tourist board in front of Table Mountain. The BBC's 'sizzling summer of sport' kicked-off with a panel line-up of Gary, Hansen, Shearer and Emmanuel Adebayor bigging up the gaff, big-style. Hansen described the comically loathed-by-pretty-much-everyone Raymonde Domenech as 'a bit of nutter,' much to Shearer's amusement, Steve Wilson managed to talk all over Lee Dxion's pitchside interview asking 'will we get a cue?' and there were lots of rumours of right stroppy goings-on in the French camp.
And yet, there really is something genuinely stirring about watching a bunch of Frenchmen with massive chimneys on singing 'La Marseillaise.' Best national anthem in the world. Lovely country, France. One of my favourites. Could do with a population transplant, like, but you can't have everything. Apparently the full Uruguayan national anthem in five minutes long, contains eleven verses and opens with 'Easterners, our homeland or the grave!/Freedom, or die a glorious death.' Which probably helps to explain the psychotic nature of one or two central midfielders they've had over the years.
Reasons why I wanted Uruguay to win this match:
1) Because, as Homer Simpsons memorably noted, 'There's a country called U-Are-Gay!'
2) Their strip is a rather pleasing and tranquil shade of light blue.
3) They're playing France.
... that's about it really. Oh, and the presence of Thierry Henry in the French squad.
Not, necessarily, because of the handball thing - I think the Irish have milked the sympathy vote on that incident to the point where I just don't care anymore - but, mainly, because he always seems to have that slightly scowling look on his face like he's just smelled some shit nearby. Every time we got a cut-away shot of him on the bench - looking bored, frankly - we also got a ludicrous tongue-rimming concerning 'the great Thierry Henry' from Mssrs Wilson and Lawrenson in the commentary box. Otherwise, it was a very uneventful first half. 'The last ten minutes has been a bit of a non-event,' said Mr Hansen. That's, actually, being a tad over-kind to the previous thirty five.
'A technical hitch' wiped out Gabby Logan's England report at half time. And then the second half just, sort of, dragged on. And on. There was a bit of push-and-shove handbags, another disgraceful moment of scrotum-slurping from Wilson when Henry actually came on ('He's still got an aura about him' - even Lawrenson seemingly didn't think much of this and replied 'Oh yeah, he's got that all right') and a half-chance for Forlan. Malouda arrived as well, a couple of Uruguayans got kicked and held up imaginary cards.
Sterility ruled. If ever a game was crying out for a goal, or a fifteen man brawl, or a dog running on the pitch and pissing on someone, or something to liven it up, then this was it. Lodeiro got sent off for a rather over-the-top nasty ankle breaker on Bacary Sagna but even that didn't alleviate the tedium. Henry claimed a penalty for handball, but it, rightly, wasn't given by the - very impressive - Japanese referee (poetic justice?) then he had a free kick in a great position late on and utterly wasted it. Too often they seem to want to walk the ball in rather than just have a shot. It reminded me of so many French performances in the last two World Cups (and the last couple of European Championships, too). Hugely disappointing. One of the highlights of the night was Gary Lineker assuring viewers that the sound they could hear was several thousand vuvuzelas and not the panel snoring. It was that sort of game.
Goals: 2
Red Cards: 1
You fill in the hours by watching the slowly ticking clock. Then, you get bored with that so you stick in a video of the highlights of '66, '70, '74 and '82 (everybody misses out '78 cos nobody likes to see a bunch of fascist bullyboys winning the World Cup). You stock up on beer and snacks for your daily World Cup Theme Parties (what the hell do you buy that'll represent North Korea in their first game? It's just like 1990 all over again when we had to make do with bottles of beer with hand-written stickers saying 'Bolivian Oblivion'). You start doing the maths - four points should be enough to qualify, but is isn't always. You start imagining what's going on at the hotels. Who's falling out with whom? Who's getting a last minute knee-trembler? Who's taking performance enhancing chewing gum.ITV's coverage of the opening ceremony can be summed up in one simple thought. FOR GOD'S SAKE, CHILES, IT'S CALLED "FOOTBALL", NOT "SOC-HER"!! Sorry, I just had to get that off my chest. I feel much better now. And, then they brought the giant dung beetle out. I don't think I was on drugs at that point, but I did have to double-check to make sure.
Every time Gareth Southgate opened his mouth, Chiles had a look on his boat that seemed to say 'why the hell did I leave the comfort of the sofa and Christine's loving giggle for this?' More importantly, he managed to talk about Gabriel Clarke being 'embedded in the England camp,' and make it sound less like a gulf war metaphor and more like Big Boys Do The Balerics.
Slippery slope, Adrian, slippery slope. Somewhere, Christine Bleakley is laughing hysterically. Very nice little bit of crap reportage from them concerning Soweto, too. 'It used to be famous for accounting for seventy per cent of all the beer drunk in South Africa.' I think it was slightly more famous for accounting for seventy per cent of 'deaths in police custody occasioned by someone "falling down the stairs of the nick, honest guv."' Give ITV the potential to do something serious and thoughtful and, somehow, they'll conspire to trivialise it. Jim Rosenthal continues to talk utter diarrhoea and get paid for it. Jesus, the man is a fraud - how the hell has he gotten away with it for thirty odd years? 
Kelly Dalglish is to incisive sports reportage what her brother was to the Newcastle United's forward line. Short-lived and not much cop. And, then there was that incessant, senseless whining drone that went on and on all match until it made you want to kick your telly in. But enough about Andy Townsend and his horrible pink shirt, I can live with the vuvuzelas personally.Bafana Bafana v Meh-H-Ho
Blatter's disgraceful brown-tongued opening speech resembled something from a Nuremberg Rally. Chiles' pre-match comments were almost as bad, instructing ITV's audience that we all had 'to be South Africa fans for the next ninety minutes.' Really? Is that The Law then, is it? I understand the feel-good factor of a host nation - particularly one with a developing, and vibrant football culture - being successful, really I do. And I've got no problem with South Africa, per se. But, I hate being told who I have to support. So, I became an adopted Mexie out of sheer bloodymindedness on the spot!
One of the lines in the Mexican national anthem speaks of 'War, war without truce/The patriotic banners are saturated in waves of blood'? Might be a bit tasty, this. Having said that, South Africa's includes the immortal line 'God bless Africa/Lift her horn on high.' Steady.
The Mexies, unfamiliar in dark blue, almost grabbed a dramatic opener inside two minutes but, thereafter, it settled down to a rather uninvolving first half, the highlight of which was when Jim Beglin's microphone briefly packed-in. Sadly, he got it fixed eventually. Franco missed a free-header at one point and was so annoyed with himself he kicked one of the advertising boards.
I imagine FIFA will give him a ten game suspension and good hard smacked bottom for that. If he'd kicked another player, he might not have even got booked. (Although, the ref was quite good, I thought.) The game got better in the last few minutes of the first half - chances at both ends and Mexican goal chalked-off for offside. And then, it exploded into life early in the second half when Siphiwe Tshabalala scored a great goal after a sweeping four-man move. The South Africans played some delightful stuff but, you always had a feeling they were a bit defensively naive and, with quarter of an hour, left Rafael Márquez, unmarked at the back post, went and equalised. The Africans had a late chance to win it, but Mpehla hit the post. So - decent, unspectacular start. It took its time to get going but, once it got there, it wasn't without some charm. Unlike much of ITV's hugely patronising coverage which often resembled something from the 1950s about a recently discovered lost tribe up the Orinoco.One down, sixty three to go.
Sacre Bleus v U-Are-Guys
BBC's opening coverage was quite nice - a video of Nelson Mandela's 'Rainbow Nation' speech set to images of the country. Then Gary Lineker did a two minute piece for the South African tourist board in front of Table Mountain. The BBC's 'sizzling summer of sport' kicked-off with a panel line-up of Gary, Hansen, Shearer and Emmanuel Adebayor bigging up the gaff, big-style. Hansen described the comically loathed-by-pretty-much-everyone Raymonde Domenech as 'a bit of nutter,' much to Shearer's amusement, Steve Wilson managed to talk all over Lee Dxion's pitchside interview asking 'will we get a cue?' and there were lots of rumours of right stroppy goings-on in the French camp.
And yet, there really is something genuinely stirring about watching a bunch of Frenchmen with massive chimneys on singing 'La Marseillaise.' Best national anthem in the world. Lovely country, France. One of my favourites. Could do with a population transplant, like, but you can't have everything. Apparently the full Uruguayan national anthem in five minutes long, contains eleven verses and opens with 'Easterners, our homeland or the grave!/Freedom, or die a glorious death.' Which probably helps to explain the psychotic nature of one or two central midfielders they've had over the years.
Reasons why I wanted Uruguay to win this match:
1) Because, as Homer Simpsons memorably noted, 'There's a country called U-Are-Gay!'
2) Their strip is a rather pleasing and tranquil shade of light blue.
3) They're playing France.
... that's about it really. Oh, and the presence of Thierry Henry in the French squad.
Not, necessarily, because of the handball thing - I think the Irish have milked the sympathy vote on that incident to the point where I just don't care anymore - but, mainly, because he always seems to have that slightly scowling look on his face like he's just smelled some shit nearby. Every time we got a cut-away shot of him on the bench - looking bored, frankly - we also got a ludicrous tongue-rimming concerning 'the great Thierry Henry' from Mssrs Wilson and Lawrenson in the commentary box. Otherwise, it was a very uneventful first half. 'The last ten minutes has been a bit of a non-event,' said Mr Hansen. That's, actually, being a tad over-kind to the previous thirty five.'A technical hitch' wiped out Gabby Logan's England report at half time. And then the second half just, sort of, dragged on. And on. There was a bit of push-and-shove handbags, another disgraceful moment of scrotum-slurping from Wilson when Henry actually came on ('He's still got an aura about him' - even Lawrenson seemingly didn't think much of this and replied 'Oh yeah, he's got that all right') and a half-chance for Forlan. Malouda arrived as well, a couple of Uruguayans got kicked and held up imaginary cards.
Sterility ruled. If ever a game was crying out for a goal, or a fifteen man brawl, or a dog running on the pitch and pissing on someone, or something to liven it up, then this was it. Lodeiro got sent off for a rather over-the-top nasty ankle breaker on Bacary Sagna but even that didn't alleviate the tedium. Henry claimed a penalty for handball, but it, rightly, wasn't given by the - very impressive - Japanese referee (poetic justice?) then he had a free kick in a great position late on and utterly wasted it. Too often they seem to want to walk the ball in rather than just have a shot. It reminded me of so many French performances in the last two World Cups (and the last couple of European Championships, too). Hugely disappointing. One of the highlights of the night was Gary Lineker assuring viewers that the sound they could hear was several thousand vuvuzelas and not the panel snoring. It was that sort of game.Goals: 2
Red Cards: 1
