first we take manhattan

The most obvious winner and loser is me. Inspired by my experience of writing this blog, I have handed in my notice at work, and from September will be trying to earn a large part of my living as a freelance writer. This is an insanely reckless thing to do, endangering my home, my living and my gin supply, and I’m very proud of myself.

In the insane recklessness stakes, however, I am clearly a rank amateur compared to Zenedine Zidane, who wins my prize for Worst Attempt at Forward Thinking on a Football Field. I was tempted to give him Worst Attempt at Unseen Violence, but on reflection he’ll have to settle for bronze.

Silver goes to Wayne Rooney, along with a special rosette for Right Under the Nose of the Referee, but the winner has to be Daniele De Rossi for his elbow on Brian McBride. Not for the elbow in itself, you understand, but for his outraged protestations of innocence while the blood ran down McBride’s face.

Manager Most Likely to Arouse the Professional Curiosity of Buffy the Vampire Slayer goes to Ricardo La Volpe of Mexico. Apparently he’s left Mexico and taken up an unspecified managerial post in Europe, so if you live in Manchester I’d get some garlic in just in case.

Player Whose Injury Made the Most Difference goes to Jan Koller of the Czech Republic. With him, a three nil demolition of the USA. Without him, wimpish defeats to Italy and Ghana. What, you thought I was going to say Michael Owen? Please.

Club Team Least Likely to Retain the Services of a Player goes to Bristol City. Outgoing Australian manager Gus Hiddink has said that Wilkshire ought to get a better club. Wilkshire hasn’t actually said this himself, but the fact that he’s put the story up on his own website might be taken to indicate his views on his personal value.

Club Team Least Likely to Retain the Services of a Player Because He Actually Did Quite Well, though, goes to Wrexham. Dennis Lawrence, of Trinidad and Tobago, will surely be going on to better things.

And to round off the ceremony, there’s the Saddest Yet Funniest End to a Distinguished Veteran’s International Career award. There’s obviously only one serious candidate for this. Yes, step forward Graham Poll. Never mind Graham, the next time you have to prove your identity the shop assistant’s bound to know your face.

France Zidane (pen) 7
Italy Materazzi 19

This game was always going to be dominated by characters, and Zidane was the obvious candidate for the lead role. This was the last game of his career. Not just his international career, but his club career too. Strange how these things turn out. From respected veteran to antihero in one mad moment. Don’t get me started on the Macbeths of this world and their tragic flaws. (more…)

Germany Schweinsteiger 56, 78 Petit og 61
Portugal Gomes 88

It’s a funny thing how the less a game matters, the better it’s likely to be as a spectacle. You may remember Turkey against Korea from 2002, and this was just as good. I’ve been scribbling down the noteworthy moments in this one, and now my poor wrist is aching.

They didn’t exactly build it up on the BBC. “Come and have a look at what you could have won”, was the commentator’s tart summary before they’d even kicked off. “I don’t want to bring people down, but this is the most meaningless game in the history of the World Cup”, said Samuel Beckett at half time. Oh no, sorry that was Martin O’Neill, but sometimes it’s hard to tell them apart. (more…)

France Zidane 33 (pen)

So the final is Italy against France, and may the best Romance Catholic European Union founder member win. I did predict a Latin final, although to be honest I was thinking of Argentina and Brazil, and frankly calling France Latin is stretching it a bit.

But then I’ve really yet to show the quality of prescience you’d hope for in a self-appointed augur of footballing events. Maybe I should try entrails. I predicted that Spain would do well, and Tunisia would surprise people. To be fair, they did surprise me. I also said the Czechs would be going places, and I didn’t mean Prague. (more…)

Italy Grosso 119 Del Piero 120

Well, talk about the late late show. I don’t think any of us expected that.

Happy birthday to me, by the way. I’m not going to tell you my age, but it’s a multiple of eleven. That’s right, I’m three hundred and nineteen. I was ripped from my mother’s womb just before Hanging Judge Jeffries got her. Thanks to Jane for her lovely card, which emphasises the importance of the semifinals over the usual dreary solar return bullshit. This is of course entirely correct. (more…)

Germany v Italy Tuesday
France v Portugal Wednesday

All four of the teams involved are European, and three of them are previous winners (Portugal are the exception). The international Catholic football hegemony continues, with three predominantly Catholic contenders. Germany is about half and half (Catholic and Protestant). (more…)

France Henri 57

For reasons best known to FIFA this game was televised through a choking veil of Guinness and tears, so it’s hard to achieve much by way of analysis.

Henri took his goal well, somehow getting on to a high free kick at the far post with no markers and volleying home with his usual casual elan. The best thing about his goals is the way he turns and lopes away with long Gallic strides, as if it was no big deal. (more…)

It’s just vicious, really. Like free range calves, they get to run around the field for a few weeks, but then out come the chainsaws. Discounting the third place playoff, a poor apology for a wooden spoon game which is now beyond our wildest dreams, all the last fifteen games exist entirely for the purpose of inflicting the dreary ennui of defeat on one nation after another. (more…)

And now we’ve been conquered by the Daleks and the Cybermen both at once. And we lost at cricket. To Sri Lanka. They’ve none of them got no reason, and I’ve decided it’s all too much, so I’m going to get drunk. You can get nice Guinness in a can these days, you know. And you can drink late in a pub. They must have known we’d have sorrows to drown. Bastards, it’s all their fault. I’m not sure how, but it is.

You are my Cathy and I am your clown, and I’ll amuse you tomorrow. Did you know there ain’t too much sadder than my tears?

Look, just go away and come back later, I can’t bring myself to report for you now. Like the man said, I just remember, I can’t describe. I’ll amuse you all later. Don’t you know Dr Who’s on?