World Cup Memories - 2018

And finally we come to 2018. For all the shenanigans around the selection of Russia as hosts, and the potential of the whole month being an almighty Putin vanity project, this World Cup has been celebrated as one of the most exciting in living memory.

Did we miss Italy or Holland? Not a jot. From the first night, when Russia’s much-maligned side smashed five against Saudi Arabia, to the six-goal finale, there was so much to enjoy. At home, participation in the global FIFA Fantasy league added an extra dimension. Amidst all the action there were many brow-furrowing hours spent contemplating transfers, captaincy selections, balancing the huge stars like Messi, Modric and Hazard with the less familiar names from Egypt, Colombia, Poland, etc. But really it was about the football!

The thrilling Iberian derby on day two left us licking our lips in anticipation of further riches. Against Portugal, Spain seemed to have done enough before Cristiano Ronaldo produced a trademark free-kick in the 88^th minute to complete his own hat-trick and a three-all draw. However, European champions Portugal were surprisingly weak and not even CR7 could haul them into the last eight. Apart from one sublime goal which only he could score, the other giant of the game, Lionel Messi, was also a subdued figure. His lacklustre, ageing Argentina side were awful against Croatia and they, too, bowed out in the second round.

The reigning champions Germany were also woefully off-form and were sensationally eliminated in Group F after losing to Mexico  (an excellent match) and South Korea. Meanwhile, the Germans’ 2014 bunnies Brazil had bounced back to their best in qualification and apart from a 1-1 draw with the Swiss, were looking ominously good. Coutinho provided some magic but I’m afraid their flamboyant forward Neymar will be remembered only for his pathetic diving and play-acting. His 10,000 volt jerks against Mexico will – sadly – live long in the memory. I missed Brazil’s quarter-final elimination at the hands of Belgium – attending India v England cricket at Cardiff – but, for all Neymar’s undoubted skills, I didn’t miss the preening prima donna at all in the final week.

Belgium had been rather fortunate themselves to meet Brazil. In their Round 2 fixture against Japan, I was enthralled by an amazing second half in which their unfancied opponents soon went two-up. With under half an hour left, Belgium seemed down and out yet ended up 3-2 winners after a fabulous injury time breakaway finished by Chadli. Phew!

Spain were also chock-full of household names, from De Gea to Iniesta, Pique to Busquets, Isco to Ramos. But, faced with the host nation and their fervent fans in the Round of 16, the superstars were surprisingly tamed. Penalties decided the matter and Russia advanced. It seems unthinkable that we will probably never again see many of these great players on the global stage.

Like Russia, Nobody had given England’s new-look side much chance of reaching the knockouts let alone challenging for the Cup itself. Only two of their wretched 2014 Eleven – Henderson and Sterling – were in the first-choice starting line-up. However, while Harry Kane was falling over and banging in the penalties, and Stones and Maguire were leading the defensive line, optimism built steadily. England slammed an unprecedented six past Panama and found themselves with a relatively simple path to the semis via Colombia (and a successful penalty shoot-out!) and Sweden. Suddenly, that refrain of “Football’s coming home” was everywhere. Massed streaming even sent The Lightning Seeds’ masterpiece of hope over expectation, ‘Three Lions’, back to number one in the charts after twenty-two years. Manager Gareth Southgate’s elegant waistcoat transformed fan fashion and even Kyle Walker proved popular.

In the semi-final versus Croatia at the Luzhniki Stadium, Kieran Trippier’s fifth minute free-kick sent the fan-zones delirious under a fountain of beer, but Luka Modric and his mates weren’t giving up. After the interval, Croatia clawed their way back into the game. Their efforts were rewarded when first the hard-working Perisic fashioned an equaliser, then Mandzukic nipped in behind Stones for the winner.

And so the tournament reached its climax in Moscow. Not with Brazil v England, as I had so naively predicted, but France v Croatia. On paper it appeared a delicious final but showpiece games are notorious for their ability to disappoint. As in so much of the 2018 World Cup, tradition was ripped up. With Modric pulling the strings, Rakitic and Perisic running with purpose and the full-backs haring down the flanks, Croatia ripped into the formidable French defence but couldn’t break through. I was aghast that France went one-up following a Griezmann dive. Perisic equalised then came another highly dubious penalty decision, this time courtesy of the controversial Video Assistant Referees (VAR). I began to lose interest when France widened the gap in the second half but had to admit a 4-2 World Cup Final is one to savour, whoever emerged the winner.

Like England, the redeveloped French team is remarkably young. Didier Deschamps was widely derided for omitting stars such as Martial, Lacazette and Payet but his squad delivered the goods. Their brilliant full-backs Pavard and Hernandez are only 22, the outstanding centre-back Varane is 25 and then of course there is the electrifying 19 year-old winger, Kylian Mbappe. The old guard of Messi, Ronaldo, Iniesta, Modric, Suarez, Cavani, Hummels and Marcelo probably won’t be around in four years’ time but a new generation of galacticos are already in place.

After Russia, the 2022 tournament will be a different kettle of fish. Located in the desert state of Qatar, dry as a bone but awash with cash for FIFA votes, it will take place in the heart of the European football season to avoid the searing summer heat. With the youthful players at their current disposal, France must fancy their chances once more. But if 2018 showed us anything, it is that the top nations can’t take anything for granted, even the champions. Four years is a long time but I’ll have to be patient. Roll on the next World Cup!

World Cup Memories - 2006 and 2010.

World Cup openers tend to be dull, cagey affairs, more often than not decided by a single goal. In 2006, the host nation Germany immediately played against type. The young wing back Philippe Lahm, not yet the Bayern Munich legend he would become, scored a screamer inside six minutes and his side beat Costa Rica 4-2.  With World Cup goal machine Miroslav Klose claiming the Golden Boot, plus the likes of Ballack, Podolski and a fit Bastien Schweinsteiger, it seemed acceptable to like the Germans for a change. They only scored once against Poland but it was a game I enjoyed watching.

For all that, I supported their opponents Italy in an epic semi-final. Unfortunately I couldn’t give it my full attention because at the time I was in a large garden marquee on the lawns of a Cambridge college in the middle of a Radio Festival quiz! My colleagues and I did cast frequent furtive glances at the big screen TV to note an entertaining game heading for penalties until the Italians conjured up a late brace, the second by the evergreen Del Piero, to win 2-0.

A few weeks earlier, Italy had won their group, just ahead of World Cup debutants Ghana. I was seeing a Ghanaian woman at the time so my antennae were twitching whenever the Black Stars were mentioned. They weren’t given much hope of progressing but surprised everybody by defeating the highly-fancied Czechs, who boasted Nedved, Rosicky and Podborsky in their pomp. Driven by Chelsea’s Michael Essien, Ghana brought a sense of fun and attacking flair to the party and only Petr Cech prevented an absolute rout. If only Asamoah Gyan could learn how to take penalties, of which more later….

England had a promising young side, managed by their first foreign coach, Sven Goran Eriksson. David Beckham was by now an elder statesman, but with Gerrard, Lampard, Owen, Rio Ferdinand and Wayne Rooney in the side, much was expected. We reached the quarter-finals and met Portugal in Gelsenkirchen on my birthday. Mum and Dad had taken me to their favourite haunt of Hyde Hall gardens so we missed the first half. I was present, though, to witness the infamous Rooney red card, deservedly brandished for plunging a boot into Carvalho’s unmentionables. The 21 year-old Cristiano Ronaldo was castigated for his subsequent wink but Rooney only had himself to blame. We lost on penalties – of course – with Owen Hargreaves the only man on target. 

Mr Ronaldo would go on to even bigger and better things but 2006 would be the last chance for Portugal’s ‘golden generation’ to secure international success. They had missed out in their home Euros to Greece two years previously so beating England was vital for the likes of Deco, Luis Figo, Carvalho et al. They were so determined that they played Holland in Round 2 and found themselves involved in what became known as the Battle of Nuremberg. They won 9-7 – in terms of yellow cards! There were also four reds after a succession of stupid, sly or plain reckless fouls. The Russian ref was criticised for losing control but, quite frankly, it was the players who lost control amidst the cascade of cards.

The final had its moments of excitement but will be remembered less for the football than for Zinedine Zidane’s heinous head-butt on Marco Materazzi. And so the great man departed for retirement in disgrace. Another disgrace was the FIFA decision to make him the Player of the Tournament. He had one good match, was suspended for another and sent off in the biggest game of them all. In my humble opinion, the best on show was no galactico but the Italian captain and centre-back Fabio Cannavaro: only 5 foot 9, but a giant in defence alongside another Italian legend Alessandro Nesta. His reward for winning the Cup was a big-money transfer from Inter to Real Madrid, the alma mater of Zidane.

The goal of Germany 2006? For once I agreed with those who decide these matters. It wasn’t a 30-yard blockbuster, nor a devilish dribble and drive. No, it was a patient 25-pass move in the group stages. The Serbs could merely watch as Argentina pushed and probed for a full minute before Cambiasso finished decisively. It was the second of the South Americans’ six that day. The last was scored by a teenage substitute called Lionel Messi….

The young Barcelona superstar returned in 2010 as part of an Argentine squad brimming with talent. After whistling through the group stage they were many people’s (including mine) favourites for the title. This was the first World Cup to be staged on the African continent, with South Africa the chosen hosts. While the incessant blaring of the vuvuzela horns became tiresome in the extreme, the organisation passed all the tests with flying colours. The same could not be said for some of the top footballing nations.

Both the previous finalists failed to reach the knockouts, and Spain lost their opener to Switzerland who themselves experienced the extraordinary achievement of being eliminated without conceding a goal! Meanwhile, Holland and the aforementioned Argentinians didn’t drop a point. But in the ‘round of 16’ the tournament dynamic shifted sharply at Bloemfontein. It was there that England, still bearing fond memories of their 2001 annihilation of the Germans in a qualifier, met their frequent nemeses and found them in superb form. While many tried to use the incorrect disallowing of Lampard’s ‘goal’ as an excuse, the truth was that England were simply outclassed.

The Germans maintained this momentum in their quarter-final against the hitherto all-conquering Argentina. Instead of a tight contest, Joachim Low’s young guns were, in my contemporary words, ‘scintillating’. Despite fielding an attack boasting Messi, Higuain and Tevez, Argentina were ripped apart. Klose and Moeller put the ball in the net but Mehut Ozil and Bastian Schweinsteiger in midfield were outstanding.

That summer, I didn’t watch many games in the first fortnight. I’d moved to Somerset two years earlier but already my personal life had plunged into a deep bucket of shit. I had alternative priorities such as searching for somewhere else to live! However, things settled down slightly by the end of June and I felt free to seek solace in the footie.

I’d retained a soft spot for Ghana so I, and millions of neutrals, backed them to the hilt against Uruguay. Win, and they’d become the first African nation to reach the last four. At one-all in a pulsating game, Ghana attacked at the death in extra time. A penalty area scramble resulted in a goal-bound header. In a split-second, a certain Luis Suarez pawed it off the line with both hands. Off he went but I was disgusted to hear ex-players praising his "quick thinking". He‘s a cheat! Anyway, all Gyan had to do was convert from the spot and Ghana were through. He went for power – and rattled the top of the bar. I was screaming like a madman at the telly. Needless to say, Ghana lost the shootout and probably their last chance of global success. It was heartbreaking.

To their credit, Uruguay showed their footballing quality in the 3^rd/4^th place ‘final where they and Germany put on a genuine show. I described it as the best match of the World Cup. The result didn’t really matter, the pressure was off, and Sami Khedira’s late winner made it 3-2 to the Germans.

The next day, Spain would meet Holland in the final. I was delighted that there would be new champions this time. However, I was unsure whom to support. By the interval, my mind was made up: the Dutch were so dour and dirty, desperate to break up Spain’s ‘tiki-taka’ rhythm by any means possible, that I was firmly in the Spanish camp. Ref Howard Webb flourished umpteen cards and, in my own blunt word, it was “crap”.. Eventually I cheered my lungs out when Andres Iniesta volleyed an extra-time winner. Back then Iniesta was to me an unknown quantity, but from that day forward he was my favourite player. Forget Ronaldo, Messi, Neymar, Rooney et al: the little graduate of La Masia academy became my modern-day idol.