Paraguay v Slovakia
Oh God, Colin Murray's on the BBC again. And so is McCarthy - even when he's not commentating on a match, they have him in the studio - there's literally no escape. I don't pay my licence fee for this! It looked a really good game, as well. In that kind of I'm-not-really-bothered-who-wins-this-I-just-hope-it's-entertaining sort of way. A bit like those second and third games yesterday, actually.
The Para-Guys took an early lead, Lucas Barrios - who was involved in everything good they did - slipped the ball into the path of Enrique Vera who burst into the area and did a faultless finish with the outside of his right boot, bending it around Jan Mucha. A superb goal. It was, at least according to Martin Keown, 'a typical South American goal.' I'm not sure exactly what that means? Maybe that it was subjugated by the Spanish and enslaved for centuries? Perhaps we'll never care. Paraguay really deserved their lead and were easily the best team in the first-half. But, thereafter, Slovakia clawed themselves back into the game with some neat passing (and some rugged tackling). They never really threatened, however and, a couple of minutes from the end, Riveros wrapped the game up for the boys from Asuncion.
Italian Stallions v New Zealand Lambs
Having, seemingly, put their collective pink shirt in the wash, ITV instead gave Patrick Viera, one of the world's hardest midfielders, a pink jumper to wear for this, a recreation of the Battle of Montecassino. It was quite nice as well. The pink jumper that is, not the battle; that was really nasty. Having spent the morning watching Sky Sports News' inelegant and frankly poisonous attempts stir up further shat in the England camp with a mixture of opinionated press sources with an obvious agenda to grind, unsubstantiated rumours, wild speculation and Kenny Sansom talking utter bilge it was, actually, a relief to see Adrian Chiles' chubby little smiling face introducing us. 'And first, England...' Thanks Adrian. Can we talk about the Eyeties instead? (Then again, maybe he was just happy with today's other world-shattering news about a camp suffering from internal disharmony?)
'Don't go out and eat Italian tonight if New Zealand get something out of this match, you might find the standard of service somewhat below what you're used to,' said Clive Tyldesley. Well, he's clearly never been to Don Vito's on Pilgrim Street, then. It's always like that. After seven minutes, the chances of exactly that happening took a major leap. Marcello Lippi was said to be worried about set-pieces and we found out why when a free-kick was curled into the Italian box and for some extraordinary reason, former Halifax and AFC Wimbledon striker Shane Smeltz was allowed to sneak in and slot past Federico Marchetti from close range.
He was miles offside as well which, actually, made it even funnier. The Italians, for twenty minutes, looked like this was North Korea '66 all over again and they were all just busy working out how they were going to sneak home at some obscure hour of the morning and avoid all the rotten tomatoes. They were getting angry and snappy with the hand gestures and the sly ankle-breakers. Then, they seemed to wake up, Montolivo hit the post and, seconds later, de Rossi went down under a rather slight challenge and the referee bought it. The Italians, of course, are probably the only country in the world with a worse record of penalties in World Cups than England, but Iaquinta stepped up and spanked it home. Game on. Half-time was spent back at the studio with the panel having a truly hilarious discussion about current goings on in the French camp. it's always nice when someone in the world is worse off than ourselves, isn't it?
The second half was an odd affair. The big New Zealand lads, Rory Fallon in particularly, were putting themselves about a bit and Eyeties did not like it one little bit. After a while they resorted to an old trick of theirs, 'rolling around on the floor clutching their face trying to get players sent off.' Chris Coleman went into an impassioned little rant about how 'you don't want to do that. That's conning the referee and it's no way to win.' Well, it's something Italians have been doing for seventy or eighty years, Chris. Very successfully as it happens (four World Cups, you might have noticed!) But, the longer it went on the more you thought that New Zealand might just pull this off. Indeed, ten minutes from the end they missed a glorious chance to take the lead (Wood shooting just inches wide). At the back, Ryan Nelsen was superb - they ought to erect a column to him - as was the goalkeeper. You think England have had some lip from their press this World Cup? I imagine tomorrow's Gazzetta Dello Sport might be worth reading!
Brazil Nuts v Cote D'Ivoire & Ebonire
This is the one we'd been waiting for - potentially the two best flair sides in the tournament. The BBC lit up the night with a musical montage of Brazil's Greatest Hits and another one about The Advance of Africa. It felt mouth-watering. The anticipation of matches like this are why you wait four years for the World Cup to come around. 'Brazil always bring colour and imagination to a World Cup,' noted Mr Lineker. Well, that's just asking for trouble, isn't it? Clarance Seedorf survived an encounter with the deadly killer Garth Crooks and made some very good points: 'Kaka has not had the best season with Real Madrid, of course, and he did not show his best in the first game against North Korea either. But he is working hard and I am sure he can settle into this tournament and come to life at any moment. Ivory Coast will have to keep a check on him because he is such a top player.'
The game started slowly. Very slowly. In fact a highlight of the first ten minutes was a really rather barbed jibe by the normally quite passive Mark Lawrenson about Sepp Blatter. That, and Jonathan Pearce's one man love affair/'but why does he have to be such a cheat?' confusion over Lucio. The Ivory Coast looked good, hunting in packs, comfortable in possession, strong and disciplined. All-in-all they were probably the better team for most of the opening phase. No final product though and I think it was about a quarter of an hour in before Drogba actually touched the ball. Mind you, the same could be said for Kaka and Luis Fabiano at the other end. Then, after twenty five minutes, the latter scored one the goal of the tournament, a vicious shot from the corner of the box that almost burst the net.
If that was 'one of the best goals of the tournament' then the one he scored early in the second half appeared to be the best, a stunning piece of ball juggling in the area before a clinical finish. Sadly, TV replays showed it was a case of literal juggling as he'd clearly handled it. Twice. None of the officials saw either, however, and it was 2-0. There was even a shot of the referee seemingly jokingly asking the scorer 'did you handle that?' 'Not me guv,' came the reply. Or, you know, a Portuguese equivalent. Then, finally, the Ivories got tickled and woke it. Drogba had a fine chance to pull a goal back but missed it.
As if stop contemptuously slap the uppity African back down into the gutter, Brazil promptly went up the other end and scored a third, a beauty by Elano. Meanwhile, Pearce and Lawrenson were having a fascinating discussion about whether people who do the Mexican Wave are 'muppets' or whether Lawrenson is a 'Scrooge.' That'd be 'yes and, err, 'yes.' Elano then just about survived a really nasty shin-breaker of a tackle by Tiote, though he had to be stretchered off. By this time the Brazilians had finally turned up to the party with a bottle of rum and a six foot three transvestite dressed like Carman Miranda. Of course, there were inevitable hiccups (you get that with coconut rum). Drogba reduced arrears after a fine move. Kaka got himself booked for a bit of stupid push and shove and then sent off for an elbow in the chest of Keita. Which was obviously a considerable surprise to the African as he went down clutching his face. It all got a bit nasty and spiteful which, to be honest, the game had never been before that. And there were lots of amusing shots of Dunga going mental on the touchline. Not, perhaps, the riot of football we'd been hoping for.
Goals: 57
Red Cards: 9
Oh God, Colin Murray's on the BBC again. And so is McCarthy - even when he's not commentating on a match, they have him in the studio - there's literally no escape. I don't pay my licence fee for this! It looked a really good game, as well. In that kind of I'm-not-really-bothered-who-wins-this-I-just-hope-it's-entertaining sort of way. A bit like those second and third games yesterday, actually.
The Para-Guys took an early lead, Lucas Barrios - who was involved in everything good they did - slipped the ball into the path of Enrique Vera who burst into the area and did a faultless finish with the outside of his right boot, bending it around Jan Mucha. A superb goal. It was, at least according to Martin Keown, 'a typical South American goal.' I'm not sure exactly what that means? Maybe that it was subjugated by the Spanish and enslaved for centuries? Perhaps we'll never care. Paraguay really deserved their lead and were easily the best team in the first-half. But, thereafter, Slovakia clawed themselves back into the game with some neat passing (and some rugged tackling). They never really threatened, however and, a couple of minutes from the end, Riveros wrapped the game up for the boys from Asuncion.Italian Stallions v New Zealand Lambs
Having, seemingly, put their collective pink shirt in the wash, ITV instead gave Patrick Viera, one of the world's hardest midfielders, a pink jumper to wear for this, a recreation of the Battle of Montecassino. It was quite nice as well. The pink jumper that is, not the battle; that was really nasty. Having spent the morning watching Sky Sports News' inelegant and frankly poisonous attempts stir up further shat in the England camp with a mixture of opinionated press sources with an obvious agenda to grind, unsubstantiated rumours, wild speculation and Kenny Sansom talking utter bilge it was, actually, a relief to see Adrian Chiles' chubby little smiling face introducing us. 'And first, England...' Thanks Adrian. Can we talk about the Eyeties instead? (Then again, maybe he was just happy with today's other world-shattering news about a camp suffering from internal disharmony?)
'Don't go out and eat Italian tonight if New Zealand get something out of this match, you might find the standard of service somewhat below what you're used to,' said Clive Tyldesley. Well, he's clearly never been to Don Vito's on Pilgrim Street, then. It's always like that. After seven minutes, the chances of exactly that happening took a major leap. Marcello Lippi was said to be worried about set-pieces and we found out why when a free-kick was curled into the Italian box and for some extraordinary reason, former Halifax and AFC Wimbledon striker Shane Smeltz was allowed to sneak in and slot past Federico Marchetti from close range.
He was miles offside as well which, actually, made it even funnier. The Italians, for twenty minutes, looked like this was North Korea '66 all over again and they were all just busy working out how they were going to sneak home at some obscure hour of the morning and avoid all the rotten tomatoes. They were getting angry and snappy with the hand gestures and the sly ankle-breakers. Then, they seemed to wake up, Montolivo hit the post and, seconds later, de Rossi went down under a rather slight challenge and the referee bought it. The Italians, of course, are probably the only country in the world with a worse record of penalties in World Cups than England, but Iaquinta stepped up and spanked it home. Game on. Half-time was spent back at the studio with the panel having a truly hilarious discussion about current goings on in the French camp. it's always nice when someone in the world is worse off than ourselves, isn't it?The second half was an odd affair. The big New Zealand lads, Rory Fallon in particularly, were putting themselves about a bit and Eyeties did not like it one little bit. After a while they resorted to an old trick of theirs, 'rolling around on the floor clutching their face trying to get players sent off.' Chris Coleman went into an impassioned little rant about how 'you don't want to do that. That's conning the referee and it's no way to win.' Well, it's something Italians have been doing for seventy or eighty years, Chris. Very successfully as it happens (four World Cups, you might have noticed!) But, the longer it went on the more you thought that New Zealand might just pull this off. Indeed, ten minutes from the end they missed a glorious chance to take the lead (Wood shooting just inches wide). At the back, Ryan Nelsen was superb - they ought to erect a column to him - as was the goalkeeper. You think England have had some lip from their press this World Cup? I imagine tomorrow's Gazzetta Dello Sport might be worth reading!
Brazil Nuts v Cote D'Ivoire & Ebonire
This is the one we'd been waiting for - potentially the two best flair sides in the tournament. The BBC lit up the night with a musical montage of Brazil's Greatest Hits and another one about The Advance of Africa. It felt mouth-watering. The anticipation of matches like this are why you wait four years for the World Cup to come around. 'Brazil always bring colour and imagination to a World Cup,' noted Mr Lineker. Well, that's just asking for trouble, isn't it? Clarance Seedorf survived an encounter with the deadly killer Garth Crooks and made some very good points: 'Kaka has not had the best season with Real Madrid, of course, and he did not show his best in the first game against North Korea either. But he is working hard and I am sure he can settle into this tournament and come to life at any moment. Ivory Coast will have to keep a check on him because he is such a top player.'
The game started slowly. Very slowly. In fact a highlight of the first ten minutes was a really rather barbed jibe by the normally quite passive Mark Lawrenson about Sepp Blatter. That, and Jonathan Pearce's one man love affair/'but why does he have to be such a cheat?' confusion over Lucio. The Ivory Coast looked good, hunting in packs, comfortable in possession, strong and disciplined. All-in-all they were probably the better team for most of the opening phase. No final product though and I think it was about a quarter of an hour in before Drogba actually touched the ball. Mind you, the same could be said for Kaka and Luis Fabiano at the other end. Then, after twenty five minutes, the latter scored one the goal of the tournament, a vicious shot from the corner of the box that almost burst the net.
If that was 'one of the best goals of the tournament' then the one he scored early in the second half appeared to be the best, a stunning piece of ball juggling in the area before a clinical finish. Sadly, TV replays showed it was a case of literal juggling as he'd clearly handled it. Twice. None of the officials saw either, however, and it was 2-0. There was even a shot of the referee seemingly jokingly asking the scorer 'did you handle that?' 'Not me guv,' came the reply. Or, you know, a Portuguese equivalent. Then, finally, the Ivories got tickled and woke it. Drogba had a fine chance to pull a goal back but missed it.
As if stop contemptuously slap the uppity African back down into the gutter, Brazil promptly went up the other end and scored a third, a beauty by Elano. Meanwhile, Pearce and Lawrenson were having a fascinating discussion about whether people who do the Mexican Wave are 'muppets' or whether Lawrenson is a 'Scrooge.' That'd be 'yes and, err, 'yes.' Elano then just about survived a really nasty shin-breaker of a tackle by Tiote, though he had to be stretchered off. By this time the Brazilians had finally turned up to the party with a bottle of rum and a six foot three transvestite dressed like Carman Miranda. Of course, there were inevitable hiccups (you get that with coconut rum). Drogba reduced arrears after a fine move. Kaka got himself booked for a bit of stupid push and shove and then sent off for an elbow in the chest of Keita. Which was obviously a considerable surprise to the African as he went down clutching his face. It all got a bit nasty and spiteful which, to be honest, the game had never been before that. And there were lots of amusing shots of Dunga going mental on the touchline. Not, perhaps, the riot of football we'd been hoping for.Goals: 57
Red Cards: 9
