My World Cup blog...
And so it came to pass, the first World Cup finals tournament to be held during the European winter, in a Muslim country, that began amidst mass indifference from most football enthusiasts, augmented by hand-wringing whataboutery from the likes of Emily Bishop’s son, alongside other members of the Fourth Estate, most of whom were being put up in 5 star hotels in Qatar on limitless expense accounts, courtesy of their employers, abetted by fellow travelling, wannabe social media influencers, some of whom like Denver Humbert had actually once been paid employees of the House of Saud, whose personal axes were being ground in a thoroughly mendacious manner, ended in almost universal acclamation for the greatest final in the competition’s history, with the finest player of all time lifting the trophy and possibly the biggest helmet ever to play the game waggling a garish golden glove like it was a Tralfamadorian strap-on.
Alongside such brainless, brilliant or bizarre events, we must not forget the lives lost in the building of the stadia and staging of the tournament, nor the fate of those migrant workers left behind in a state of semi servility in locked camps in Qatar, but the sheer weight of compassion fatigue engendered by the incessant virtue signalling by the likes of Denver Humbert and his pals, creates a kind of numbed indifference to the whole grotesque carnival in the minds of those of us still free to think beyond Shachtmanite parameters. What did these idiots think about tournaments such as Argentina 1978, Brazil 2014 or Russia 2018? Didn’t the sordid track records of human rights abuses by those three grisly regimes deserve being held under the microscope? For those who simply can’t let this topic go, David Squires, as ever, summed things up in the best manner possible with his latest Guardian cartoon -: https://www.theguardian.com/football/ng-interactive/2022/dec/20/david-squires-on-a-salty-end-to-qatar-world-cup
The 2022 World Cup saw 64 games over 29 days, involving 172 goals scored by 32 teams, all of whom lost at least one game during the tournament. Here is how I saw things unfold, sometimes in front of a screen, for 35 games and sometimes not, for the other 29.
Day 1: Ecuador 2 Qatar 0
Things
kicked off with the mouth-watering prospect of seeing the host country, whose
timid take on the beautiful game reminded me of a division 1 League of Ireland
side doing their best to avoid physical contact at all costs, being wholly
dismantled by a thoroughly mediocre Ecuadorian outfit. Bang average former
Everton and West Ham non-entity Enner Valencia put himself about like Joe
Jordan on steroids, scoring both and being denied a hat trick by nonsensical a
VAR decision. Perhaps the most entertaining part of the second half was seeing
the stands empty rapidly, as if part of a secret or silent fire drill.
Day 2: England 6 Iran 2
Netherlands 2 Senegal 0
USA
1 Wales 1
The
fact the World Cup took place in Qatar precluded the usual tidal wave of
snarling, pissed-up, middle aged sub-human detritus in remaindered Belstaff
jackets from throwing patio furniture around scenic, medieval town squares.
Instead, the media focus, that inexplicably veered between the censorious and
obsequious in tone, was on the refusal of FIFA to allow captains to wear
rainbow armbands, for fear of upsetting Qatar and the state’s institutional
homophobia. While still feeling a little surprised that the legacy of Harvey
Milk is being maintained by the Alan Turing Loyal, I was pleased that England,
inspired by their wholly decent manager Gareth Southgate, decided to take the
knee before kick-off, even if their execution of the gesture was a little
ragged to say the least. What actually impressed me the most was the endless
booing of the Iranian anthem by their own fans. Rather than cloaking their
rampant Islamophobia behind a so-called desire for human rights, the No
Saudi Toon clownshoes and their simpleton followers from Ready to Go
ought to stand with the Iranian working class who have had enough of the repressive
fundamentalist regime in that country. Sadly, that won’t get them many retweets
or invites to appear on pitiful podcasts, so they don’t bother.
Never has working from home been cushier than during this tournament; tucked beneath a duvet on the sofa, I felt the pain of the Iranian keeper with the enormous sneck when his bugle got battered. No wonder he had to go off; it was just a shame his replacement appeared to be some random bloke from the crowd as a surprisingly assertive England banged in half a dozen. Callum Wilson proved himself to be the bigger man by passing to Grealish for a tap-in, in a gesture that showed the West Midlands Roger Casement has been forgiven for his thoughtless jibe at Miggy at the end of last season. As for the other England players with a Newcastle connection, Trippier was woeful and Pope surely has to come in for Pickford following his calamitous involvement in both Iran goals.
Following that crazy goal fest, things calmed down with the Netherlands seeing off an unimpressive Senegal. This showed that if a game is particularly dire, you can always nip into the back bedroom to do some work from home, especially when Senegal didn’t have the desire to score and, until half time at least, the Netherlands didn’t have the wit, much to Van Gaal’s chagrin. I headed out to play 6-a-side and missed the two late goals that decided this encounter. After an 8-4 victory under lights, on the 4G up the West Road, I did my usual weekly shop in Sainsbury’s, getting home just in time to see the Ronaldo of the Valleys win and then convert the penalty that denied the Great Satan a victory. The quality of the game was poor, which sort of invalidated my theory that football at this World Cup would be of a higher standard than the usual borefest, as most of the players would be fresh as only a quarter of a season had gone, rather than playing it at the end of a gruelling campaign.
Day 3: Argentina 1 Saudi Arabia 2
Denmark
0 Tunisia 0
Mexico
0 Poland 0
Australia
1 France 4
Despite
the shock result of the early game, I think this was a good day to work from
the office. At this stage in the tournament, I desperately wanted Saudi Arabia
to do well, not just because their shirts are modelled on Newcastle’s third
kit, but because of the endless small-minded, mendacious sniping at the
country, which is a murderous cesspit I think we can all agree, as a way to
have a dig at Newcastle United, especially by hypocritical former employees of
the House of Saud like Denver Humbert. The fact is, Saudi Arabia aren’t a bad
side and I’d imagine we’ll probably end up with a couple of Saudi squad players
at SJP in the near future, which will be no bad thing if they can play quick,
one-touch football like their national side.
I got home from work in good time to see the France game, which was the best of the tournament so far, whereby the plucky Antipodean SPFL Select XI took a glorious lead, before Les Bleus ground their faces into the desert sand. So often teams that begin the tournament like an express train run quickly out of steam, but it was clear from the outset that to beat France to the title, it would require a side to touch celestial levels of genius, or for the reigning champions to implode viciously. Quite impressively, the latter speciality of those wonderfully funny Raymond Domenech years was never a threat.
Day 4: Croatia 0 Morocco 0
Germany
1 Japan 2
Costa
Rica 0 Spain 7
Belgium
1 Canada 0
Another
somnolent start to the day, spent again in the office, meaning of the 4 games
I’d missed by this point, 3 were goalless bores. I do wish I’d seen Japan come
out on top in the Axis Trophy though, but instead I got in for the most vicious
Spanish assault on Central America since 1519. It was an utterly marvellous
display of attacking football, which made one wonder why they so maddeningly
insisted on retreating to their shells in subsequent games. At this point, only
France looked like they could hold a candle to them, but appearances can be
deceptive. They weren’t in Belgium or Canada’s cases; the latter couldn’t score
and the former looked uninspired and jaded. Neither of them impressed me in the
slightest, which would continue to be the case in later games.
Day 5: Cameroon 0 Switzerland 1
South
Korea 0 Uruguay 0
Ghana
2 Portugal 3
Brazil
2 Serbia 0
The
first two and a half games were the epitome of the kind of laboured, prosaic,
conservative football that blights so many major tournaments for the neutral
observer, making games, that consist mainly of play acting and time wasting,
more of an ordeal than a spectacle. Then suddenly, after an opening period of
stupefying inanity, Ghana v Portugal exploded into an orgy of attacking
football and woeful defending. Of course it had to be the arrogant arsehole
free agent at the centre of things, didn’t it? After 45 (or 52 more accurately)
breathless minutes, the following clash of the great democracies was a bit of a
damp squib at first, I have to say, but once Brazil got in their stride, they
were impressive.
So, all 32 teams had played a game at this point, with Brazil, England, France and Spain looking genuinely impressive. Qatar were clearly the worst team, even if Costa Rica shipped 7, but the likes of Poland and Belgium didn’t exactly bring much to the table either.
Day 6: Iran 2 Wales 0
Qatar
2 Senegal 3
Ecuador
1 Netherlands 1
England
0 USA 0
The Qatar v Senegal contest saw two of the hitherto most passive sides in the competition giving it a real go, though the hosts still belied their distaste for heading, tackling and indeed all physical aspects of the game. One good thing, they didn’t have far to go home after becoming the first side to exit the tournament. The Dutch showed their propensity for self-implosion by throwing away a winning position against a half-decent Ecuador side and then England v USA proved to be the worst waste of a Friday night in living memory, being dross from start to finish in that typical, nauseating, timid way we’ve been so long accustomed to.
Day 7: Australia 1 Tunisia 0
Poland
2 Saudi Arabia 0
Denmark
1 France 2
Argentina
2 Mexico 0
Up
early on a Saturday to see Australia win it with a great goal, I ducked out of
the Poland v Newcastle United XI game, heading off to the Newbiggin v Percy
Main game at Hirst Welfare in Ashington. As we lost 4-1, you’d think I’d made
the wrong choice. Well, I don’t think I did, as seeing football in the flesh is
far more important to me than seeing it on telly. And, in my opinion, the
Northern Alliance is better than the World Cup anyway. My match report from the
PMA game can be read here, if you so desire it -: https://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/12/cold-comforts.html
I got back just in time to see France’s second half performance, but as we had a night out planned, the Argentina game was only viewed courtesy of brief highlights via the BBC website. To be honest, I’d been more intrigued by the FA Cup 2nd round ties taking place that day; Kings Lynn v Stevenage, Forest Green Rovers v Alvechurch and Clyde v Dumbarton in the Scottish Cup; that’s the sort of stuff I should have watched live, but sadly didn’t.
Day 8: Costa Rica 1 Japan 0
Belgium
0 Morocco 2
Canada
1 Croatia 4
Germany
1 Spain 1
Frankly,
this day saw my worst performance of the tournament. Still afflicted by strong
drink, I slept through the first game, which was described as the worst of the
tournament, then missed most of the second having a haircut (only my 3rd
since 2015 incidentally, and all in the last 6 months), though I did catch
Courtois playing his part in Belgium’s catastrophic disintegration. As well as
keeping an eye on Ebbsfleet v Fleetwood and Newport v Derby in the FA Cup, I did
see Canada take the lead, before promptly falling asleep and waking to see a
slight turnaround in fortunes in that game. I managed to stay awake through Germany
v Spain, but rather wished I hadn’t. The penny was beginning to drop; it was
clear that Spain weren’t all they were cracked up to be.
Day 9: Cameroon 3 Serbia 3
Ghana
3 South Korea 2
Brazil
1 Switzerland 0
Portugal
2 Uruguay 0
The
last of the 4 consecutive game days, saw all 32 nations having played 2 games
at the end of it. The opening two encounters on this day, saw a pair of
absolutely mental, hell-for-leather contests, played with the handbrake off. It
was great to see teams just going for it, almost as if they accepted that the
whole purpose of a World Cup is not to line the pockets of Infantino and his
pals, but to celebrate football by trying to score goals, not holding on to
possession for dear life to strangle the will to live from the opposition. By
contrast, the Brazil game was a little more staid, though I did enjoy seeing
Bruno on the pitch. It being a Monday, I ducked out of the last game in order
to play 6-a-side. I feel it was the right choice as seeing Ronaldo up against
Suarez, two of the nastiest specimens ever to play the game, was not something
that appealed on any level. Coming home from football, I was overjoyed to find
Ayr United v Pollok on BBC Scotland in the SFA Cup, as I identified more
with the level of play, ground and atmosphere than with the World Cup. Ayr won
incidentally.
Day 10: Ecuador 1 Senegal 2
Netherlands
2 Qatar 0
England
3 Wales 0
Iran
0 USA 1
I
was in the office, so saw nothing of the first two games. The only feeling I
had was a degree of sadness for Ecuador going out as they’d given it a good go
in their first two games. For the later game, I actually ventured out to the
pub, watching it in The Lochside with Tom, who’d decided watching it in his
local in Leith may not have been the most positive of atmospheres. While the
pub was busy, it certainly didn’t have the numbers it draws for an average NUFC
game, nor indeed the passion. To be honest, it would have been more fun
watching it in Tiger Bay or Llanfairpwllgwyngyll, as Wales comprehensively
demonstrated that only Qatar and Canada were worse sides than them, as England
pulled them to bits in the second period. Sadly, in the contest of the 2
Islamic Republics, USA beat Iran and so advanced to the next stage. It was good
fun going out to watch a game, but I couldn’t see myself doing it again for
other fixtures in the tournament. Too bloody cold for starters…
Day 11: Australia 1 Denmark 0
France
0 Tunisia 1
Argentina
2 Poland 0
Mexico
1 Saudi Arabia 2
Another
day of deskbound drudgery caused me to miss a pair of engrossing early games,
where the surprising results enabled Australia to make it through to the next
stage. After work, the necessity of heading to town to run some errands meant I
only made it back in time to see the second half of the Argentina game. Mexico
become the first side I’d not seen kick a ball as they lost to Newcastle United
XI, who tragically didn’t make it through to the next stage. Instead Poland,
who are by a long chalk the worst of the remaining 16 sides in the tournament,
somehow, shamefully crept through to the knock out stage. It must have been
particularly upsetting for former House of Saud employee Denver Humbert, as he
turned 61 on this day. All the best to him and his 7 mates.
Day 12: Belgium 0 Croatia 0
Canada
1 Morocco 2
Costa
Rica 2 Germany 4
Japan
2 Spain 1
I
felt sorry for Canada finishing bottom of their group, but thoroughly enjoyed
their game with Morocco. Well, I suppose I enjoyed it more than the Canadian keeper
did at least. The dire Belgium v Croatia stalemate showed that Ally McCoist’s
view this tournament was one too far for many of the fading stars of World
football, was a sensible one. Belgium were terrible throughout and justifiably
went home early. The other two games were mad and, for 6 delicious minutes,
offered the chance of both Germany and Spain going out at the first hurdle.
Sadly Germany’s revival, while doing nothing for them in the long run, aided a
stubbornly introverted Spanish side, who were justly losing to an invigorated
and entertaining Japan side. Typically enough, even this shocking defeat wasn’t
enough to rouse the Spanish from their torpor and their fall was already in the
post. Germany simply aren’t very good these days, it has to be said. So, after
44 games, we’d seen 110 goals, which equates to exactly 2.5 goals a game, which
seems a reasonable return, despite the disappointing number of sterile
stalemates we’ve been forced to endure.
Day 13: Ghana 0 Uruguay 2
Portugal
1 South Korea 2
Brazil
0 Cameroon 1
Serbia
2 Switzerland 3
As
I was having physiotherapy on my damaged right shoulder, I was unable to see
the opening two games. I was, of course, delighted to see Uruguay knocked out
and Portugal beaten, even if Ronaldo’s lot (and I really don’t mind them as a
group, other than him and that other simpering prick from Man Utd, Bruno
Fernandes) didn’t include the foul free transfer. In the evening I made a bad
choice, in predictably opting for Brazil v Cameroon. While the other game swung
from one side to the other, I watched a slow and uninspiring contest that was
characterised by our Bruno having an absolute nightmare of a game, missing
chances, wasting passes, losing possession, that did loads to reduce his value
in the transfer market. Indeed, this game had only the winning goal and its
aftermath to recommend it. Has anyone ever been given a red card by a smiling
ref, who has just high fived and hugged you? Absolutely insane, but also
ultimately pointless as the Swiss got through and sent Mitrovic’s miserable lot
home. Ha! Ha!
Day 14: Netherlands 3 USA 1
Argentina
2 Australia 1
The
phony war is over. We are down to the last 16 and proper knock-out football.
First up, the Netherlands continue to have a decent tournament by beating the
USA with ease. As I was at Percy Main 2 Newcastle Independent 3, I only saw the
second Netherlands goal when we trooped into the clubhouse at full time.
Subsequently, I headed home to write my match report, which is again available
at -: https://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/12/cold-comforts.html getting it finished in
time for the Argentina game, which was nuts. Messi, who showed his class by
shaking hands with Jason Cummings at full time and not asking him who he was,
and his mates could have had half a dozen, but Martinez won the game for them
with an astonishing stop in the last minute of stoppage time from NUFC’s new
lad Kuol. A good, breathless contest.
Day 15: France 3 Poland 1
England
3 Senegal 0
Despite
losing to Tunisia in a group stage game, France continue to serenely progress
through the tournament, with Mbappe demonstrating he’s the only rival to Messi
in terms of goals and influence over proceedings. Poland were no competition at
all, only getting on the scoresheet in farcical circumstances. Lewandowski’s
retaken soft penalty seemed to suggest the referee had staked his mortgage on
both teams scoring. Meanwhile, England made things unnecessarily difficult for
themselves in the opening half an hour against a spirited but limited Senegal.
Then, Southgate’s tactical masterstroke of lacing the ball up field as hard and
as quickly as possible bore fruit and an easy victory opened up. It seemed
clear, even at this point, that this was as far as England would go in the
competition.
Day 16: Croatia 1 (3) Japan 1 (1)
Brazil
4 South Korea 1
Japan
began at full tilt, but their inability to take their chances came back to
haunt them against a side who appeared to be Poland impersonating Spain, or
vice versa. The crushing inevitability of Japan’s implosion didn’t make their
loss to one of the tournament’s least enjoyable sides any easier to stomach.
Still, at least Roy Keane won the commentators’ prize for excessive acerbity,
by finding hitherto unimaginable levels of contempt for Brazil’s goal
celebrations. His puritanical loathing of dancing or indeed any form of joy
must make him Cork City’s only Calvinist.
Day 17: Morocco 0 (3) Spain 0 (0)
Portugal
6 Switzerland 1
Work
got in the way of the first game, and I only made it back in time for the spot
kicks as Islam once again ruled the Iberian Peninsula. Could anything had
summarised Spain’s inability to get anything right, more than their woeful
efforts from the spot? It’s genuinely sad to see them waste their ability by
playing such aimless possession based football, where keeping hold of the thing
seems to be an end in itself. I didn’t see any of the goals in the second
contest as Chris Bartholomew and I were putting the finishing touches to our
potential CD release as Bartholomew / cusack for early next year. This involved
me doing the spoken parts for two tracks, Hair and Broken Bread
that will form part of a 6-track release. More details will be available soon,
I promise. Also, delighted to see Ronaldo being dropped for this one, but
slightly concerned that Fabian Schar went off at the break.
Day 18: Rest Day
Day 19: Rest Day
Day 20: Brazil 1 (2) Croatia 1 (4)
Argentina
2 (4) Netherlands 2 (2)
The
quarter finals, with 7 of the 8 predicted sides through, and only Spain missing
out. Their departure became somewhat insignificant when Brazil, who turned up seemingly
convinced they’d already beaten Croatia, were sent packing by a side that are
difficult to love, but even harder to beat. Modric may be a junk shop Pavel
Nedved, but he played his part in ensuring Brazil got what they deserved;
nothing. It wasn’t a great, or even a compelling game, but it had me off the
sofa cheering the result. Mind, the next game was the moment the knock-out
stages really caught fire. Argentina were strolling to the semis when the
referee went mad, booking 18 players, and a bloke who’d got the elbow from
Burnley after relegation became the new Van Basten. Crazy goals, mad penalties,
shithouse celebrations of the very worst kind and Denzil Dumfries kung fu
kicking any Argentinian within a three metre radius after the match; this game
had it all. Needless to say, whoever won would have my support for the rest of
the tournament.
England
1 France 2
Again
Saturday meant a return to real football; in this instance, Hexham 2 Gosforth
Bohemians 9 in the company of Harry Pearason. You can read about why I chose
this and not Morocco v Portugal here -: https://payaso-de-mierda.blogspot.com/2022/12/high-school-confidential.html
I just got back in time for kick off in the second game, so was able to enjoy a rubbish opening 45 minutes whereby England contrived to give the ball away at every possible opportunity. VAR decided to rear its ugly head and I’m completely at a loss to explain why the opening goal wasn’t chalked out as the foul on Saka was clearly a part of the build up to the goal. I think I understand why the first penalty shout wasn’t answered in the affirmative though, as VAR were checking only to see if it was a penalty or not. Consequently, having opined the foul happened outside the area, they did not have the power to award a free kick on the edge of the box. The parameters of their potential judgement meant it was a penalty or nothing. Stupid I know, but those were the rules.
Cards on the table, I thought England were excellent in the second half and, bar one superb poacher’s instinct by Giroud and an over egging of the pudding by Kane, everything pointed towards England reaching the semi-finals, until France went ahead again. From then to full time, it looked a bridge too far and Rashford’s free kick was truly the only effort on goal after the penalty miss. While France aren’t World Champions for nothing, Saka was the best player on the pitch by miles and Bellingham had an excellent World Cup. I’m glad Southgate has stayed on as manager, if only because the only logical choice to replace him would be Eddie Howe, and I hope this thoroughly decent squad of young men can do themselves proud in the 2024 European Championships. I’m still at a loss to understand the workings of the European Nations League though…
Day 22: Rest Day
Day 23: Rest Day
Sunderland
1 West Brom 2. Yuk! Yuk! Yuk!
Day 24: Argentina 3 Croatia 0
Now
this was a proper hammering, just at the part of the tournament where you least
expect to see open, attacking football. It was a masterclass by the little
genius himself and anyone who begrudged him the chance to play in the final has
no heart and no soul. Seeing the back of Croatia, who would have been the least
popular winners of a major tournament since Greece at the Euros in 2004, was
also a positive as a combination of sublime talent and incorrigible shithousery
won the day.
Day 25: France 2 Morocco 0
In
the end, it was easy enough for France. They got a scrappy early goal and held
their nerve as a massively depleted Morocco, running almost on empty, suffered more
injuries and failed to take their chances. Their spirit was never broken, but
the second French goal did for them and the first African team to reach this stage
knew their race was run. Well played Morocco, for being the first team to get
within a country mile of Pele’s prophecy that an African team would win the World
Cup before the turn of the 21st Century…
Day 26: Rest Day
No
football played, apart from Hibernian losing 3-2 at Castle Greyskull,
increasing my fears of relegation somewhat. Why oh why did we sack Jack Ross?
Or John Collins even?
Day 27: Rest Day
Day 28: Croatia 2 Morocco 1
I’ve
not got a great deal to say about this one, mainly because I got home with
89:13 on the clock. You see, the freezing blasts and snow flurries of the week
previous had caused me to panic that there would be zero Northern Alliance
fixtures to watch. In the event, 7 games made the cut, but I’d lost my nerve on
the Friday night and got myself a ticket for Newcastle’s friendly with Rayo
Vallecano. I wasn’t the only one, as an insane crowd of almost 35k turned up to
see a first half that was ridiculously open and a second period played almost
at walking pace, where 3 callow youths of unknown provenance made their senior
bows from the bench. The 2-1 victory for Newcastle was effectively immaterial,
as I was glad to have been there, as it made things easier to meet up with
Shelley for a bite to eat and a wander round town post-match. After the Croatia
v Morocco game, we headed for Percy Main Amateurs and the Christmas do at the
newly spruced up clubhouse. It was a quality night in the company of some
quality people. How wonderful it is to see this glorious old club making such
magnificent strides on and off the pitch. It warms my heart, almost as much as
that photo of Modric and his old man embracing in the stand at full time. I
really am an old sentimentalist at times.
Day 29: Argentina 3 (4) France 3 (2)
Sentiment
was my main reason for wanting Argentina to win the World Cup. That and the
fact Las Malvinas siempre son Argentinas of course. You don’t need me to
tell you that this was the greatest ever final (just shading Germany v
Argentina in 1990 obviously), or that Messi wearing a sponsor’s comfort blanket
was a disappointing note to end the tournament on, or that they’d have cruised
to a 3-0 win if Di Maria had stayed on. But let’s be honest, it wasn’t just
fitting, it was right that Argentina won for, across the tournament as a whole,
they were the most interesting, intriguing and unpredictable side of all,
including a bunch of young lads (hello Mac Allister) who grew up in public.
This was a team full of mates who deserved to win, as they never gave up and
always put their daft mistakes behind them. Remember though, the only side to
beat them were the Newcastle United XI of Saudi Arabia and for that gesture
alone, I’m glad they won out in the end.
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