Oh Shizuoka. It’s got a slightly lavatorial feel to it. A little like Waterloo. Is this to be the battleground that ends England’s world?
Already you can hear worried English fans complaining. ”Why is it,” they ask plaintively, ”that we have to play Brazil when South Korea, the United States, Senegal and Turkey are on offer?”
And they’re right. History suggests the winners will not be shock troops from a smaller footballing nation. And rightly so.
It would be a disaster for football if the round-ball’s global crown went to the one nation on Earth that doesn’t consider the World Cup much of an honour. So let’s pray Bruce Arena’s Americans stumble against Germany onFriday after their shock victory over Mexico.
Obviously Turkey, the nation which likes to welcome visiting football clubs ”to hell”, can’t be allowed a place in the world’s top four and neither the Koreans nor Senegal are likely to win it either. It’s just not done.
Africa and Asia, like Australasia, North America and (unsuprisingly) Antarctica, simply don’t win World Cups. That great privilege belongs to Europe and Latin America only.
Traditionally, Spain are at home sunning themselves by now. Though home to the world’s greatest clubs, the national side are supposed to fold up under pressure and go home with their tails between their legs. They did just that against the Irish in the world’s worst penalty shoot-out, but Mick McCarthy’s men proved to be even better at missing from 12 yards than Hector Camacho’s over-paid loons.
Using history as a guide,where we have a tiny pool of seven winners out of the 250 available nations on earth, the logical conclusion is that Friday morning’s Brazil versus England clash will provide the 2002 World Cup winner.
The other previous conquerors have all fallen. Holders France didn’t even score a goal, Argentina collapsed like their economy, Uruguay were only ever there to make up the numbers. Then the co-hosts Korea stunned fast-to-surrender Italy (with a little help from the referee) and we were left with three pedigree World Cup winners.
Damn, in all this waffle, I appear to have ignored the teutonically efficient, titanically sneaky Germans.
Saudi Arabians will tell you they’re brilliant, Irishmen will tell you they’re susceptible in the dying moments, Paraguayans will sneer and say they were beatable before the late winner in their showdown last Saturday.
The masters of playing badly and scoring a late goal, will Rudi Völler’s men be the ones? The same useless bunch who saw England win 5-1 in Munich less than a year ago? Surely not! I cannot tell you with any certainty because this has been a ridiculous World Cup.
England’s Trevor Sinclair, the man who took a 12-hour flight home when he was dropped from the squad but returned on the next flight when Danny Murphy was injured, has finally said something sensible in Shizuoka. His quote: ”Any match is winnable at this World Cup” will be the theme of this tournament.
Just look at what’s going on.
World champions don’t fail to score when they can call upon the top goalgetters of France, Italy and England. Yanks don’t have better footballers than Portugal or, more shocking, Mexico. Senegal are just a bunch of French-based journeymen, not unlike Welshmen in the premiership.
Yet here we are, with perhaps the most bizarre last eight imaginable.
Ronaldo has scored five goals in five games after four years of injury and rumour? How can it be? The other Golden Boot leader, Miroslav Klose, was born in Poland and was a roof tiler 18 months ago. Who could have predicted this?
I can only guess, with a crystal ball clouded by visions of flag-waving Koreans and Japanese, that Germany will overcome the US and, obviously, Spain will finally end Korea’s party. In the semifinal, Germany will finally end the Spanish reign, their best effort since 1950 at this level.
I also foresee that Turkey will gobble up super Senegal. Which leaves Brazil, flamboyant as always but surprisingly resolute against Belgium in defence, to end the England run that has seen some four million Chinese-manafactured Cross of St George flags sold in an unexpectedly successful month.
Yes, football has reclaimed the England flag from the yobs, the English disease of hooliganism has failed to reach Asia. But the other perennial premiership problem of exhaustion has finally hamstrung Sven-Goran Eriksson, the luckiest England manager of recent times.
Michael Owen’s groin, Paul Scholes huge heart and David Beckham’s metatarsals are all straining as we go into this one, an eery echo of the match at Guadalajara at the Mexico World Cup 22 years ago.
There, Gordon Banks pulled off the world’s greatest save, Bobby Moore made the greatest tackle … and England (fielding a side even better than the 1966 winners) lost 1-0. Similarly, this time the heroic David Seaman will, I believe, bow out of international football, with one last shake of the ponytail, Rio Ferdinand will confirm his status as the new Bobby Moore … and a single Rivaldo goal will shatter England.
Oh Shizuoka, I will spend all morning on Waterloo.
Brazil will then glide past Turkey to meet the Germans in the final. The winners? Blimey, how am I supposed to know when a side worth perhaps £25-million like Ireland can outplay Spain’s £250-million stars without Roy Keane, when Patrick Vieira leaves the World Cup smiling ”At least now we have a longer holiday” and Brad Friedel, a man who looks for all the world like a middle-aged businessman, is being labelled the world’s best goalkeeper?
Nothing can be believed anymore. Football has been turned on its head. You spend 41 years learning and playing this game and then you realise you know nothing. The old ladies in the corner of the White Hart pub said Korea would beat Italy because they were trying harder. And they were right. What do I know?
I can only go back to my rallying cry from a few weeks ago. After Paris it might just be Dakar.