World Cup 2010 Blog Day 23

Written by Joe Berg Tuesday, 29 June 2010 14:22

England World Cup Blog

Good afternoon boys and girls. First of all, let me take this opportunity to apologise for my absence over the past couple of weeks. At the same time, let me assure you that yes I do realise that not one of you noticed I was missing. 

Basically, betting on the World Cup got out of control and, coupled with some other painful issues residing in my head, led to me being picked up by police at 5 in the morning standing at the end of a train platform watching the fast trains speed past. 

The mental hospital beckoned.

I was released on leave at the weekend and have since had all my gambling accounts closed, my debit and credit card confiscated by a mate who is giving me a daily allowance of £3 to cover lunch and dinner, and have had my medication started again after I’d ignored doctors’ advice and stopped taking it about two months ago. A word to the wise: If your doctor says you’ll become ill if you stop your tablets, then you probably will. 

So, I was fortunate enough to watch the final group games of the World Cup in the company of a 47-year old man who assured me was engaged to marry Madonna on the 12th December 2012 (I’m not invited to the wedding, but I’ll be able to see it on the telly). On my right, sat a schizophrenic Indian 22-year old who would call the nurse a cock-sucking bitch one minute, then ask him ever so politely what time dinner was the next. I was also joined by a crack-head going cold turkey, and a man in his thirties who walked around the place puking up little bits before saying, “the tree told me to throw up if I was raped as a little boy.”

Not the best of environments, I think you’ll agree. 

England vs Algeria. What was that? Madonna’s fiancé told me that after such a display, he was expecting to be called up by Capello for the Slovenia match. He wasn’t joking, either. I humoured him. 

And so on to the Slovenia match, where nothing more than a win would be good enough to see the Three Lions through to the group stage.

Up step Jermain Defoe and England were through, albeit unconvincingly, to the second round. Meanwhile, there was 93rd minute heartbreak for Slovenia as the USA lucked out against Algeria to steal top spot in the group and send the smallest nation in the competition back to their little land nestled between the Alps and the Mediterranean. 

The pundits said England had played well. They also all agreed that England would be too strong for the Germans in the next round. I didn’t believe them on either count. I kept my mouth shut.

There were pant-wettingly hilarious things happening away from the England camp, too. France went on strike (No way! The French? On strike? You must be mistaken) before losing to South Africa and finishing in bottom place in the group behind the hosts. 

And not to be outdone, their opponents in the last World Cup final Italy managed to lose to Slovakia after failing to beat either Paraguay or New Zealand, eventually exiting the competition also bottom of their group. 

I, along with some mental people and a couple of nurses, laughed and laughed and then laughed a bit more. If there’s one thing I love seeing, it’s the French being humiliated. The Italians was just an unexpected bonus.

On a totally unrelated topic, about two seconds ago I plucked out three coarse, black hairs from the inside of my nose using nothing more than my middle and pointer fingers. I then flicked them on to the white space in front of me so as to be able to admire them for a while. 

England vs Germany was watched in a large pub on Brighton sea front. My girlfriend was with me, and even wore an England shirt for the day despite being European. It brought no luck. We were so bad that I actually felt even a bit of happiness for the Germans as they progressed, thoroughly deserving their win. OK, I am of the belief that had Lampard’s goal been allowed to stand, that the game would’ve turned out completely different, but it wasn’t and should not be used as an excuse. Our players were disgraceful, as was the manager. End of. 

I was back on the beach by the 88th minute, thinking it more pleasing to watch my girlfriend lying in a bikini than a load of Germans hugging each other and cheering. 

Looking forward to a few games now. Portugal vs Spain will hopefully be a bit more flowing than the Portugal-Brazil game was, and then there’s Brazil against the Netherlands and Germany against Argentina to get the juices flowing.

I don’t care who wins anymore, all I want is to see flowing, attacking football and for it to be rewarded. Be it old enemy Germany, slightly newer enemy Argentina, old favourites Brazil, slightly newer favourites Spain, or even Portugal, I really don’t care. If you play well, you deserve it.

Well, apart from Portugal. There’s nothing I’d like to see less than that winking little pretty boy poof Ronaldo lifting the cup. Come on you Spain! 

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