Why are we only slightly better Than Slovenia?

Until Sunday afternoon, the players in the England team, playing weekly at the top level in the Premier League and Champions League and getting paid millions of pounds a year, suffered from an enormous, collective gap of delusion. (Essentially, the difference between how good one thinks one is at something and how good one actually is. In order to maintain a satisfactory level of performance and also a modicum of sanity, the important thing is to keep that gap as small as possible). No more. You’d hope that with their humiliation at the hands of Germany the realization might finally have dawned on them that we are, as a footballing nation, only slightly better than Slovenia. The first time we had to face decent opposition, we were outclassed. They were younger, fitter and had more imagination, more heart, more team spirit and more skill. And they probably won’t even come close to winning the trophy.

Yes, Frank Lampards goal that wasn’t a goal was a joke. In a global football tournament, watched by billions of people, each and every one of whom knows that the ball was over the line, how ridiculous is it to play on knowing that the score is wrong? Rugby tennis and cricket use video technology. But not football. Consequently, England had to chase the game and were punished for pushing too far forward. But even allowing for that, does anyone really think that if we were level at half time, England would have won? And even if they had, would they have beaten Argentina? (My son who is eight years old said today that he was sort of relieved that we’d lost yesterday because he thought we’d have been “really mushed” by Argentina).

In the end, I think everyone now knows that we’re nowhere near good enough to win the world cup and if things don’t change we never will be. I got two calls from Canadian friends (I happen to like Canadians) who both questioned the wisdom, when two goals down, of bringing on a man (Emile Heskey) who can’t score. When Canadians can spot the basic flaw in our football tactics, I think we’re in trouble.

But why are we only slightly better than Slovenia? How has it come to this? We won the world cup in 1966, we probably should have at least got to the final in 1970 and we came close to beating the eventual champions in 1986 and 1990. Since then, aside from 1994 when we didn’t qualify, we’ve been knocked out twice in the second round and twice in the quarter finals. And on the evidence of the Germany game things seem to be getting worse.

Is it tiredness? Are there too many games in the Premier League meaning that the players arrive worn out before the tournament starts? They certainly looked knackered on Sunday but then one tends to get tired if you keep giving the ball away.

Is it because there are too many foreigners in the Premier League? Are our best players just not used to being on a football pitch, looking up and only having other English players to pass to? Does it scare them?

Is it the lack of flexibility? England played a fairly rigid 442 formation for the entire tournament. Was that because the manager felt that they couldn’t play any other way? Are they too stupid to do so? Do our footballers need to be brighter?

Is it because we have a foreign manager? We’ve tried both English and foreign managers and none of them have done particularly well recently. Is it time to look further afield? Are their alien life forms with solid tactical awareness and the relevant coaching badges? Are they available?

Is it because we invented football and we can’t get our heads round the fact that other countries, who’ve been playing it for less time than us are now better at it? Are we that insane?

Is it because of the way football is taught in England? Do the academies instill the correct values in our young players? Do they value grit and application over skill?

Is it the parents’ fault? Do all those dads think they’re helping their precious child’s development by screaming “get rid of it!” every time they get the ball? Is that really the best way to encourage possession football?

The answer to all these questions is probably yes. (Not the possession football question. That’s ironic sarcasm. And not the alien life forms bit. That was a joke.) But changing an entire football culture is not a simple thing especially where vested interests are concerned. Rupert Murdoch and the hype machines that are Sky Sports and The Premier League are no more interested in a successful England team than they are in the restoration of democracy in Burma. While the multi-million pound football industry continues to fund the wages of huge numbers of highly talented foreign players, English talent will be excluded and another generation of England fans will spend their hard earned cash watching the national team get soundly beaten by almost everyone. Assuming that we even qualify.

So what now? Well first let’s enjoy the rest of the world cup and some titanic matches between real football superpowers. Spain v Portugal, Holland v Brazil and Argentina v Germany. As for the England players, they’re on the plane home as I write this. I hope they’re in economy class. (If I lived near the airport, I’d go down there and boo. And I don’t care if Wayne Rooney likes it or not).

For the future, I do have one solution to the problem of the national team. We’ve tried foreign managers. I think it’s time to try foreign players. Germany’s line-up contained naturalized Poles, Turks and Brazilians. It’s time for England to do the same. I know the government is talking about limiting immigration but I just think we should limit it to countries that produce good footballers. We need some Brazilians. We can’t offer them decent weather or food but they’ll definitely get in the team. We just need to remind them to keep their heads down on the underground.

PS. I shall be discussing these issues further with Alan Davies and DJ Tayo on Armchair World Cup on sunday morning at 11am on Radio 5 Live

On My Head Son

So we’re through to the last sixteen and it’s Germany next. Blimey. Sunday is going to be tense. Let’s face it, aside from 1966 (when we played all our games at home and also benefited from a decision from a Russian linesman who may possibly have lost half his family in the second world war and could well have held a slight grudge against the Germans), they’ve always gone further in world cups than us. Which doesn’t augur well.

On the other hand, Germany are a young team and experience often tells in major tournaments. The two finalists in 2006 had the oldest average age of any of the teams. Also, the match is being shown on the BBC and this can only aid our chances. We have a much higher win percentage on the BBC. It’s as if the players play better knowing that as soon as the half time whistle blows, the studio discussion begins. There are no commercial breaks in which to escape the horrible reality of a bad performance.

It’s also likely that we’ll play in all red, which as we now know is probably the colour that will take us to our first major trophy for forty-four years. We’re never happy in white apparently (except when we beat Germany 5-1 in Munich).

Most importantly, we have John Terry. Now while I’ve always had respect for our ex-captains football ability, he’s not exactly been a great role model what with the dodgy training ground dealings and the extra-marital affairs. But against Slovenia, he did something that made me look at him in a totally new light.

I always knew he was brave. But on Wednesday afternoon, ten minutes from the end of the game, he tried to stop a shot with his head. Not a cross or a Rory Delap type throw-in, both of which he’s dealt with a million times playing for club and country. This was a shot. A proper, foot through the ball, “get in there” shot. I don’t know anyone else in England who would try to stop one of those with their head. You can only admire courage like that and at that moment, I honestly thought we might have a chance of winning the trophy.

Of course if we do beat the Germans (and I’m prepared to renounce atheism and return into the arms of God if it’ll help), we’ll probably play Argentina. And then Spain. And then Brazil. And if England win those four games, not only do they deserve to be world champions but I would give every one of the players a six-month amnesty from legal proceedings for any minor criminal offence and grant them permission to take any woman in the country for their wife. Although some of them don’t seem to need permission.

Now I realise that promising England players the earth based on the scenario that they beat, in a row, four of the best teams in the world is hardly going out on a limb. It’s a bit like the way that retailers promised refunds on any major electrical items bought before the tournament if England won it.

But hey, this is a world cup full of surprises. Italy have just gone out of the competition having lost to Slovakia (I’m sure there are many people who didn’t even know that was a country). They finished a point below New Zealand in their group. Spain lost to Switzerland. Germany lost to Serbia. Why can’t the eighth best team in the world beat the teams ranked seventh, sixth, second and first in the world? In eighteen days. Without one of their first choice central defenders. Stranger things have happened. Two days ago, I saw a man try to stop a shot with his head.

Boredom

The players are bored. Cooped up in five star luxury for weeks on end with nothing to do except train, eat and sleep. They’ve had enough. Which is handy because if they continue playing like they have done, they’ll be home by Thursday.

My children often tell me that they’re bored. Sometimes I provide them with things to do, sometimes they have to sort themselves out. One can’t be too hands on but sometimes they need a little help. A trip out to the park for a kick about followed by an ice cream often does the trick but this may prove less successful with the England Squad.

So here are some suggestions for them to keep themselves busy.

1) Practice passing. In fact practice any aspect of the game. They were having a lot of problems with some of the fundamentals on Friday evening. A little extra work would surely pay dividends.

2) Practice penalty kicks. Assuming they win on Wednesday (let’s just assume), we know this is going to be needed at some point. The chances of us winning four matches by the seemingly simple route of scoring more goals than the opposition are remote. Practicing penalties can’t hurt.

3) Read. Away from the training ground, there are any number of things that can help and reading is one of them. I know it’s a radical suggestion for footballers but it can be a very pleasant way to pass a couple of hours. But they should be creative. Something non-football related. Romantic comedies. Sci Fi. Chick Lit. Or one of those misery memoirs about someone who was locked in a cupboard for the first fourteen years of their life. Anything that reminds them that in reality, they’re an infinitesimally small part of the Universe and the world cup is not that important

4) Scrabble. Once they’ve read a book, they can put some of the new words they’ve learnt to practical use. To make it competitive, why not nominate the loser to be the one who has to ask Fabio to change the formation.

5) Drink. Not loads. Just a couple for one evening. They could have a small party and celebrate being one of the only unbeaten teams still left in the competition.

6) Fight. You know all that aggression that Steven Gerrard was talking about after the game on Friday? Why don’t they take it out on each other? There were plenty of moments against Algeria when they messed up. This would be their chance to exact some revenge for those misplaced passes.

7) Let the WAGS in. More importantly, only agree to them leaving when Fabio names the starting line-up. Either he lets them know whether they’re playing two days before the game or the girls aren’t going anywhere. Whatever, a couple of days of unbridled sex should keep them busy. But they need to take turns keeping an eye on John Terry.

8) Drive the players to one of the rougher parts of town, drop them off and then force them to make their own way back. The ones who get back to the hotel are guaranteed a start in the next game. More importantly, having to negotiate their way safely back through some of the more dangerous neighbourhoods should alleviate any feelings of boredom.

9) Play The Water Game. This involves a glass with a small amount of water. One member of the squad chooses a number between one and twenty-two and each player tries to guess what number he’s chosen. The one who guesses correctly gets the water in the face. This would work well with idea number five.

10) Sleep. I don’t know about you but when I’m bored, sleep helps. Do a bit of training and then go back to bed.

11) I hesitate to say this but surely pornography is available. Once it’s served its purpose, it can often be combined with number ten.

12) Call a clear the air team meeting. This can be a very risky strategy because although it will help with boredom, it may replace it with tension. Definitely do not do this after idea number five otherwise idea number six could ensue.

So there you have it. Twelve ideas to help the players fill their time between matches. A bit like the Twelve-Step Programme for alcoholics except there’s no apologies necessary. At least not until they get knocked out early and come home.

Boo!

Well I woke up this morning and lasts nights game didn’t look any better in the cold light of day. Frankly, it was absolute shit, possibly the worst England performance I’ve ever seen. Wayne Rooney can complain all he likes but if the fans can’t boo that, they can’t boo at all. It felt bad enough watching it on TV but if I’d spent a couple of thousand pounds flying over there, I might well have felt compelled to boo.

After all the preparation. After flying out the correct food. Fabio making sure there’s no butter on the plane. (Could England have played any worse if they’d spent the last two weeks eating nothing except butter?) After Franco Baldini flew out weeks before the world cup started to measure the length of the grass at the training ground. After paying Fabio Capello six million pounds a year. We get that? Against Algeria, statistically the twenty-third best team in the tournament. Well look out because next up are the twenty-second best team so it’s only going to get harder.

The question is how else do the fans express their displeasure at an inept performance? It’s easy enough at home. We just turn the TV off or over. Godfather Part Three was on the other side and there could be no more eloquent statement of someone’s unhappiness than a preference for watching by some margin the worst Godfather film rather than England at the world cup. When you’re in the stadium, it’s a bit more difficult. I guess you could tut in unison. Or turn your back on the team as they trudge off. Give them the silent, sulky treatment. Wayne Rooney would ask the fans what was wrong and they’d reply “if you don’t know, we’re not going to tell you”.

In the end, nothing is more eloquent than a boo. The difficulty is that a boo implies a lack of effort and I don’t think that was the case last night. Of course they tried. Wayne Rooney was obviously having a mare but he kept running and he kept wanting the ball. Same with Steven Gerrard. Some nights, things just do not go your way. But is that grounds for booing?

Partly, it’s because everybody watching had dreams of being out there on the pitch, representing their country at the world cup. And we never got the chance to do it. And they did get the chance and they’re making a complete pigs ear out of it. We feel let down. We feel that they’re wasting their talent in a way that we wouldn’t do if we were the ones who had it.

Anyway, it’s done now and I'm starting to feel better. Yes, that’s two hours of my life that I’ve given to that football team that I’ll never get back. And what’s more, I’ll give them another two hours next Wednesday. And hopefully some more time after that. That’s the trouble. I have no choice. I’m a fan. Of course I’m sorry the team felt upset at the fans booing. But the team has to understand that the fans felt upset at the way the team played. So let’s call it even and see if we can all get on a bit better next week. Because we’re in the knock out stages a week earlier than we’d hoped and if we don’t all pull together the boys are coming home.

Three things before I go. Firstly, as bad as we were I thought Algeria defended very well. Secondly, if we beat Slovenia by a decent margin, we’ll end up top of the group. And thirdly, it could be worse. We could be France.

The Horn

Sorry I haven’t blogged for a while but I’ve been watching the football and waiting for something to happen. Let’s be honest, it’s been a bit dull. It’s livened up in the last few days but still. I know everyone has to feel their way into the tournament but come on lads. We’ve been waiting weeks for this festival of football and I just had my first conversation with someone where we agreed that we’re quite looking forward to the new season. (I discount the Germans from this last statement. They arrived fully prepared. Almost like they’d been planning the whole thing. The only word that seems to apply is efficient).

Yes the crowds have been colourful. Yes the North Koreans were better than we’d thought they’d be and it was great to see their three hundred fans “spontaneously“ cheer and clap when they scored. And yes the African teams jerseys are skintight and this has no doubt enhanced the enjoyment of some fans. But, aside from this country where people have been incessantly debating the English goalkeeping howler, most people have been talking about the ball and the vuvuzela.

The ball is possibly the most ridiculous mistake ever made by FIFA, an organisation that has a history of ridiculous mistakes. If there’s one thing that a football tournament requires, it’s a good football. It’s no use telling us it’s the roundest ball ever, the players hate it and let’s face it, they’re the ones who need it to work. Of course Sepp Blatter cannot under any circumstances admit that he may have screwed up but seeing as we’re fifteen games in (as I write) and not one free kick from outside the penalty area has got within ten yards of the goal, the evidence suggests otherwise. And if FIFA need help, I’ve got four perfectly good balls in my garden. If they’re needed, they can be flown out at a moments notice.

As for the vuvuzela, I’m not a fan. According to my children, when I complain about the infernal racket and hark after a more simple time of football chants, I sound like a very old man. But I miss the ebb and flow of crowd noise and the din made by the vuvuzela has slightly spoiled my enjoyment of the tournament. Of course I’m still going to watch it because it’s football and the alternative is tennis or, God help me, Golf. But when I’m at home and I turn off the TV at the end of the game, the overwhelming emotion is one of relief that the noise has gone. And I can honestly say that at the precise moment when there’s no more football, the one thing I’ve never felt is relief.

This is a slightly difficult subject because accusations of racism are never far from the surface when someone from a white European culture criticizes an African custom. And that can be doubled when it involves South Africa. The vuvuzela has apparently been around in South Africa for about one hundred years so it could be considered culturally insensitive to turn up at an event that they’re hosting and in so many words tell them to turn down that noise because we can’t enjoy the football.

But we can’t. And nor can the players. There may well be great games and great moments but I haven’t seen many as yet and I’m concerned that things aren’t going to get better. And it would be a shame to work so hard to get the world cup to Africa only to have it spoiled by a rubbish ball and a horn.

Balls!

Well we finally got here. I’m So excited. At 3pm today, the hosts South Africa will kick off against Mexico. And they’ll be using a new ball called The Jabulani, which apparently means, “moves funny through the air”. I made that up. It means, “celebrate”. Whatever, people have been complaining. Someone (Julio Cesar?) said it was like a ball that you bought in the supermarket. Don’t know if that’s true. I’ve never bought a ball in a supermarket. And I’d bet he hasn’t either. Adidas say that it‘s the roundest ball ever (?) but it doesn’t move in a predictable way. Is that a good idea? An unpredictable ball? I wasn’t aware that the old balls needed replacing. If we’re going to experiment, how about bigger goals? Or alternatively, no goalkeepers over 5ft 7.

Obviously, the main reason we’ve got a new ball is that the fans can be fleeced for even more money than they’ve already shelled out. But why use it at the tournament? I’m no expert in global events but to me, they don’t seem to be the place to try something experimental at least not with possibly the most important part of that event.

Other than that, Wayne Rooney’s been told to mind his language. He got booked in a friendly the other day when he swore at the referee. For us here in England, it’s no surprise that a boy from Toxteth in Liverpool should use bad language. But in the rest of the world, Wayne spitting out a string of expletives may be seen as slightly offensive and result in a booking or worse a sending off in a match that actually means something. To that end, the referees have been given a crash course in the twenty most commonly used swear words in English. Now I haven’t seen the list so I tried to compile my own and I could only think of seventeen. And I like to swear. I’d appreciate some input on this. If you haven’t got time to make a list at the moment, just watch an England match and note down the ones you come up with. My partner suggested that he learns how to swear in another language. She thinks Klingon. It could work although it’d be just our luck to get a referee who also happened to be a fan of star Trek.

Of course seeing as Wayne Rooney is from Liverpool, there may be other swear words that I’m not familiar with. It’s also possible that the list will not be needed if, as the England players have promised, there’s no swearing. And pigs might fly. Although if they’re anything like the new ball, their direction might change suddenly.

Waiting Impatiently

I’m waiting. That’s what I do. I wait. I’m like the man in the Guinness advert. The one where he’s waiting for the right wave before he can surf. The wave like wild horses. And then once he’s done surfing, he can roll around in the sand with his surfer mates in a totally non-homoerotic way. I’m like him. Only I’m waiting for the world cup to begin. And if we win it, I may well also roll around with my mates in a non-homoerotic way.

This waiting is killing me. Driving me nuts. I’m not the most patient of men. But when there’s a major football tournament looming, I’m like an addict waiting for the dealer to show up. I can’t relax until I’m on the sofa and there are men kicking a ball around on TV in front of me. All these world cup countdowns constantly reminding you of how many days you’re going to have to wait before the big kick off. I don’t need to know. It’s like being at work and every five minutes someone shouting the time in your ear. It doesn’t help.

Plus I don’t really like the summer. Sure a sunny day is great but how many of them do we get. And as for summer sport, I just can’t raise myself to get involved. Formula One? Don’t care. It’s just rich boys racing around in souped up cars. If I hear there’s been a crash I’ll watch the highlights. Golf? Not my thing. I watched Tiger Woods the other week but only to see if he’d mentally unravel. He almost did. It was great. Other than that, I’m not bothered. Cricket I like but Bangladesh at home I can live without. They played a test match fifteen minutes drive from where I live. It was only a tenner to get in. I still didn’t go. I like tennis as well but only up to a point. Andy Murray lost in the French Open? I’ll try and get on with my life the best I can. All I really want is for the football to start.

You know how some people say they don’t know how we coped without dishwashers or mobile phones. I’m trying to work out how I coped last summer without football. Or indeed any summer without football. Because it’s only been three weeks since the football season ended (OK, two months if you’re an Arsenal fan like me) and I’m going crazy already. Saturdays are a complete waste of time. Like Sundays only slightly busier. And at least this year I’ve got a tournament to look forward to. Whereas last summer, the beginning of June heralded the start of two, virtually football free months. What the hell did I do all that time?

I didn’t go on picnics. I know that. It only stopped raining for about four days and the ground was damp the entire time. I didn’t have a holiday. I don’t really like them. I didn’t go to the Edinburgh festival. I have no interest anymore in getting upset at journalists from provincial newspapers making snide remarks about something I’ve written. All I did was sit about in a huff waiting for the Charity Shield. And as an Arsenal fan, for the last five years I haven’t even cared about that.

One man who’s no longer thinking about the World Cup is Theo Walcott. In the one shock in Fabio’s squad selection, Theo didn’t go to South Africa. This is the man (boy?) who started the whole world cup thing rolling with a hatrick against Croatia and here we are slightly less than two years later and he’s been replaced by Sean Wright Phillips. Football is a fickle game. They say it only takes one second to score a goal but it only takes twenty-one months to blow an England career, at least for the present time.

I’m sure he’s gutted but he’s twenty-one, good looking and a multi-millionaire. He’ll cope. He’ll go and sit on the beach at some exclusive resort, lick his wounds and wait six weeks for the world cup to be over and pre-season training to begin. And he probably won’t watch any football. But for the rest of us the waiting is almost over.