Showing posts with label World Cup 2014. Show all posts
Showing posts with label World Cup 2014. Show all posts

Seven


'Twas down by the pitch side, they met Uruguayans and Italians

who made it look like donkeys playing stallions

I watched for a while the tails they were chasing

Glory no, Glory no, to the bold Englishmen

 
As the opening groups in the 2014 World Cup, staged in Brazil, start to wind up their business we now know most of the final 16 teams who will line up in the knock out phase. There are some who have been knocked out even before the official knock out stage, including England and reigning champions (for a few weeks more), Spain.

While the allegation of under achieving can with justification be hurled the way of Spain, the same cannot be said for England. They achieved more or less what they were expected to achieve: nothing. Few anticipated this side to do well. All but the delusional and the incurable optimists - perhaps the difference is more imaginary than real - could emit surprise when Roy Hodgson's side lost in their opening two games, making the result of the third match academic. It was mere salting on the cake when the English were held to a 0-0 draw by Costa Rica.

Roy Hodgson has bona fide managerial skills which if they never strut the stage at this level of soccer are still apparent. That particular acumen came to the fore well before a ball was even kicked in the tournament when he lowered the English soccer public's expectations. In many previous competitions there was something that could almost have passed as shock when the side were eliminated earlier than the public thought dignified. Now that the dreadful penny has dropped and virtually every penny dreadful bar The Sun have arose from the slumber of 66 and smelt some Brazilian coffee, there is a realization that any half decent Yorkshire pub side has to fancy its chances against England. 


 

The Sun, perhaps because of its name has tried to keep the torch lit for good old Blighty and Tommy Atkins. Juiced up on jingoism the paper can't come to terms with an empire where the sun never set but which is now thrust back into some remote corner of Europe where it can only draw down drizzle and a talent to match. Short on accuracy and long on audacity the red top rag emblazoned its pages with graphics of Rooney, Sturridge and Sterling superimposed with vampire fangs under the headline “Let’s have Suarez for dinner lads! Time to bite back!” Suarez alone appeared to be listening to the entreaty for more bite. The consummate connoisseur of Italian cuisine remained unperturbed and carried on as normal.

The fools the fools the fools

Suarez has left them for dead

While England fields these knaves

England on field shall never be...at Greece


One solid reason, at least, for Hodgson not wanting to get as close to The Sun as Icarus did. Best not to be exposed to its rays of wisdom, only to endure the let-down that accompanies the meltdown.

The trip to Brazil was not exactly a pointless journey, given that England did get one point from their three matches but only a pedant would labour that particular truism. They could have put the time to better use, giving free donkey rides to kids on Rio beaches, at least come home with a sense of achievement.

The upshot is, even for England supporters, fewer donkeys means more hay for the horses. And with the minnows like England out, the serious footballing sides like Costa Rica, Mexico, Greece, Colombia and Chile can get down to the real business of making hay while the real sun shines, serving up a feast of good soccer. 

Glory no, Glory no, to the bold Englishmen