I've not had time to check out the British newspapers online so I have no idea what the situation is surrounding the selection of Eriksson starting eleven. Got a hat tip from Scottish Patient Kev that Rooney is definitely not playing even if the metatarsal was fully mended as there is photographic evidence that he has been indulging in some comfort eating whilst recovering from his injury. I still think that Joe Cole will be the revelation of the tournament for England, but only in that: "A guy that talented for so long shouldn't have to be revelatory in a John Barnes like way . . .", and I suddenly realise that I know bugger all about the Paraguayan team. I can't find the National Geographic website, so I decide to click on the BBC World Cup page to see if I can get a crash course on Paraguay before the national anthems kick in.
Turns out this tournament is the third World Cup in a row that Paraguay have qualified for. I suddenly remember their headcase goalkeeper Chilavert from the 1998 and 2002 World Cup goals, and that Laurent Blanc golden goal for France against them in 1998. Turns out that their star player, Carlos Paredes, plays in Italy for Reggiana. I'm guessing that Paraguay are not one of the strongest teams.
Via the BBC website, I discover that there are seven thousand England fans in Millenium Square in Leeds to watch the game on the big screen. What else are you going to do in Leeds on a Saturday afternoon?
England SCORE. Fuck. The cameras are showing Owen running away in celebration, and all the other players are running after him to get in on the photo opportunity. The commentators keep mentioning that they think it was Beckham that scored from a free kick. The replay reveals that it is an own goal from a Paraguay defender, and with luck like this for England I mutter doublefuck under my breath.
The ABC commentator mentions a study of the spin of the ball from Beckham's free kicks " . . .from the business school of the University of Sheffield", which prompts me to think "money for old rope', whilst his co-commentator mentions Posh and 'Bend It Like Beckham'.
The commentator is mentioning Posh again. It's going to be a long 90 minutes listening to this muppet. Makes me hanker after the sotto voce of John Motson, so I think I might be coming down with something.
The main commentator seems obsessed with stats and World Cup facts: "The second fastest goal ever by England at a World Cup final." The fastest ever substitution of a goalkeeper at a World Cup final." Turns out that I'm listening to John Motson-with-a-suntan soundalike.
Struck by the fact that the referee looks about twelve. Also notice that he seems a lot more card happy than the referees in the opening two games. Probably got a UEFA directive in his email box that morning.
The game is a bit slow at the moment, so my mind starts wandering. Make a mental note that if there was a film made of England's participation in this tournament - provisional title, 'Waiting For Rooney' - I think that Mark Wahlberg should play Steve Gerrard. Snoop Dog would be a shoe-in for Rio Ferdinand, and with the CGI being as advanced as it is these days, Claude Rains could reprise his role as the Invisible Man to properly capture the essence of Frank Lampard's performance in the game so far.
The commentators are now banging on about Peter Crouch's robotic dance that he has taken to performing when scoring a goal. I think it is the third time that they have mentioned it so far during the course of the game. I wonder if Peter Crouch realises what he has set himself up for? Forever more he will be known as that lanky streak of piss who once bodypopped whilst scoring for England; it will be engraved on the poor bastard's gravestone fifty years from now.
Wahlberg Gerrard is down injured after a Paraguayan player headbutts his kneecap. I make a mental note to cast this bloke in the role of the Paraguayan defender for the 'Waiting For Rooney' pic.
Neville's getting more positive mentions than Joe Cole so far in the game, and I wonder if I have put a hex on Cole for the tournament by placing him in my World Cup Fantasy Football Eleven, and predicting that he will be the break out player of the tournament. I look at Marty sitting on the couch, to see if he will confirm my suspicions, but all he does is bark the word 'solipsism' back at me by way of a reply.
Beautiful back heel from Beckham that draws oohs and aahs from the crowd.
Paredes has a deflected shot on goal which is noteworthy for two reasons: 1) It is one of the first attempted shot on goal by Paraguay. 2) I can't help but notice that Paredes has one of those lank hairstyles so beloved of South American footballers, which have a tendency to look all sweaty and matted within two minutes of the wearer running about the pitch. I wonder why it is that such an unattractive look is still so popular among South American footballers, and I conclude that it can only be because the Ramones are still massive in Paraguay, Argentina and elsewhere on the continent.
Joe Cole does the business down the left, and feeling pleased with myself I stick two fingers up at Marty, telling him where he can shove his 'solipsism' bark.
The commentator mistakenly refers to England as Germany. A small cheer is heard emanating from the Griffin farmhouse in North Wales.
Santa Cruz appears to be the only Paraguay player that registers with me during the course of the game so far. I wonder if it's because he is having an especially good game, or because he shares the same name as an old catchy single by the Irish Beach Boys wannabes, the Thrills? I decide it's the latter because I now can't get the bastard tune out of my head.
Valdez comes close to scoring with a half volley, and then drops to his knees in pained anguish with the sudden realisation that hundred of millions tv viewers around the world now know that he sports the most ridiculous facial hair this side of Hugh Jackman in the X-Men films.
Joe Cole, Peter Crouch and Gary Neville are playing well. Paraguay finish the first half strongly, and the ABC coverage makes a sudden rush into football related adverts. With Adidas sponsoring the coverage, their adverts take pride of place during the interval, and I note that their main advert, depicting a scene in a fuvela in either South or Central America where two ragged-arsed schoolboys have their own World Cup Fantasy Football game by being able to pick players such as Beckham, Zidane, Raul, Kahn, Robben, Cisse, Viera, Lampard, Beckenbauer and Platini (you can tell it is a work of fiction - Cisse doesn't get picked last) to take part in a kickabout, is cute enough with the tag-line of 'Impossible is Nothing', but points to the fact that the advertisers/football PR people/anyone wanting to sell football boots, kits, dreams etc, etc are forever juxtaposing images of poor but happy kids in Newcastle the third world alongside the latest footballing hero with golden bank accounts to go alongside their golden boots. What's the less than subliminal message that the advertisers are trying to sugar coat for us? Football is the people's game; that most democratic of sports where no matter how poor you might be, you can succeed with little more than a ball, some space to play and the passion but in the meantime fork out $200 for a pair of Adidas Predator Absolutes. Designed exclusively for David Beckham, no less. Oh, and throw in a paraphrased Situationist slogan from the sixties as a tag-line for good measure. If it's good enough to sell soap powder, it's good enough to sell football and all its paraphernalia. With less than clean thoughts about soap powder, I break off mid-rant and remember that I'm supposed to do the laundry before going to NYC Indymedia workshop later in the day. I grab the laundry bag and make my way out of the door to the laundrette twenty yards down the street.
Back indoors whilst the spin cycle is on, safe in the knowledge that I haven't missed much. The laundrette owner is either from Albania or Russia - not sure - and he is a football nut, so the football is always on the tv in the laundrette whenever I go in there, and whilst I was separating the colours from the whites before sticking them all in the same washing machine on the warm wash, I'm keeping tabs on the start of the second half. First thing I see on the screen when back in the apartment is an image of Prince William - "future King of England", apparently - in the crowd. It doesn't look like he is in the cheap seats but I'm pleased to note that he is even more balding now than the last time I saw him on tv. I think the greatest threat to the monarchy, this side of it being discovered that it was the Queen who was driving the car in pursuit of Diana and Dodi Al-Fayed that August night in Paris in 1997, is the thought of an heir to throne not yet out of his twenties with less hair than Duncan Goodhew. You don't have Prince Slapheads in fairy tales, and I can see the percentages points in favour of a republic going up every time William finds a few more hundred hairs on the royal pillow every morning.
Downing comes on for Owen.
My World Cup captain, John Terry, throws himself into a crunching tackle that would have Ron Harris wincing.
Joe Cole, with a grass cutting shoot on goal, is continuing to repay my faith in him, by promising so much but not actually delivering. A bit like a Martha Wainwright album in that regard.
Paul Robinson totally flaps at a cross played into the England penalty box. Eriksson is seen mouthing the words: "Shit - I don't want Robinson rooming with David James anymore." to Ray Clemence on the England bench.
Beckham could be buried in concrete, and placed down a ravine in an unmarked spot ten thousand miles away from Frankfurt at this moment in time, and yet the two ABC commentators would still consider him the most important focus for attention during this match.
Cuevas comes on as a substitute for Paraguay. According to the commentators, he is a skilful and mercurial player but also a bit of a character off the pitch, known to appear regularly on Paraguayan tv playing guitar, singing and telling jokes. I'm half-expecting them to describe him as the 'Paraguayan David Beckham' as this point but they decline to take up that comparison and fall back on the footballing cliche that he has a 'swagger' to his play. The love child of Frank Worthington and Liam Gallagher, perhaps?
Notice that Stuart Downing is wearing red boots. I wonder if this is to acknowledge his embarrassment at the fact that the right back for Paraguay has totally got the measure of him?
Beckham drills a brilliant cross field pass to Downing which eventually leads to a rasping shot from Lampard and an excellent tip over the crossbar from Bobadilla. I spot that as soon as I rag on a player for playing badly, he starts to play well. I wonder if I can employ this motivational technique to the future career of Kenny Miller?
The stadium, that is overwhelmingly made up of England supporters, starts up a Mexican wave. The cumulative wobbling of thirty thousand English beer guts in Frankfurt results in a butterfly in the Amazonian rainforest getting a wee bit queasy.
One of the commentators states that: "the Paraguayan team are not the prettiest team to watch." I think that means he must have missed the Germans playing against Costa Rica yesterday.
Owen Hargreaves is on for Joe Cole. WHY???
The England fans in the stadium, in a display of patriotic fervour, are heard giving a throaty rendition of 'God Save the Queen'. Their patriotic fervour stops short of them knowing the words to the second verse. It is a scientifc fact that the only people who know all the words to the national anthem are Jeremy Clarkson, Noel Edmonds and selected Scottish Nationalists. ("Lord grant that Marshal Wade/May by thy mighty aid/Victory bring./May he sedition hush,/And like a torrent rush,/Rebellious Scots to crush./God save the Queen!) At least it wasn't those tossers who like to play the same four bars from the theme to the 'Great Escape' over and over again at England games,
Turns out that Crouch is a bit of a moaner. Booked already, he is continually nipping the ear of the referee about some alleged foul against him or feigning innocence when penalised for his own indiscretions. I'm hoping that he will get sent off. If only to save him from the ignominy of forever being known as the body popping footballer. Excellent shot from Lampard saves me from trying to think up some tortorous way in which I can tie in some Proustian memory of Shalamar's Jeffrey Daniel to Crouch's goal celebrations.
STAT ATTACK ALERT!!! According to the commentators, up until now, there has never been a 1-0 result from the World Cup game where the winning goal was an own goal. It's the most excited they have sounded all morning.
Final whistle blows and, from what I saw of their performance, England do not look like the potential winners of the tournament that so many people were talking up before the start of the World Cup. Of course, people will say that with Rooney missing from the starting eleven, one can't make a proper evaluation of England's overall prospects. However, although it was the case that though both Lampard and Joe Cole played better as the game went on, they didn't have the level of consistency throughout the whole course of the game necessary to mark England out as a team that will dominate games against better opponents than Paraguay in future matches. Some will take the view that England in World Cups past have started slowly and that they have come good as the games have been played, but this World Cup was supposed to be different all round. England is still waiting.
1 comment:
Reading this was far more entertaining than watching the match itself.
And this - 10.41am Owen Hargreaves is on for Joe Cole. WHY??? was the question we are all still asking.
Very, very funny. Thank you!
Post a Comment