Kicking Off (Or Not): Why World Cups are dull

Oh dear. How the mighty fall. There will doubtless be some (expats) who have delighted in Spain's defeat. I have never felt badly towards the Spanish team, though even I found myself willing the clock down against the Alpine dullards. Why is that, do you suppose? During the Euros, in the absence of England, it was easy to get behind the Spanish team, but then they went and blew it - blew the fact that they have been as useless, more useless, than England over the years. Winning something changed everything. But Spain will progress, despite a thought that has been nagging me that, like France in 2002, the team will just blow up. It might be remembered, though, that El Diego and Argentina lost their opening game in 1990, but still made the final.

Ah yes, 1990. In the days when World Cups still meant something. In that game, against Cameroon, you still had all what used to make World Cups great. Genuine, on-field violence. Why is this World Cup dull? Why have all World Cups since 1990 been dull? Because in 1994, FIFA decreed that the Americans had to have a tournament without physical contact, save for Leonardo's elbow. What you got was Bebeto's infuriating baby-rocking. Cutesy celebrations for an Americanised and sanitised era of football. Oh for the days of Argentina in 1978 and a Peruvian goalkeeper who just so happened to be Argentinian and who just so happened to let in six goals - against Argentina. Oh for the days of 1986 and a Uruguayan kicking my some time döppelganger Gordon Strachan up in the air after two minutes - and getting sent off. Oh for the days of 1962 and David Coleman's self-righteous indignation at the "disgrace" of Italy and Chile. The days of 1966 and Nobby Stiles attempting to put an end to detente by mugging France's midfield, and the Argentinians - always the Argentinians - provoking Alf to his "animals". One looked down the list of the first-round matches in the hope of some which years ago would have sparked a world war, but which have passed with nary an ankle tap. "After you, Luigi. No, after you, Roque." Italy versus Paraguay. Thirty years ago or so, and it would have been mayhem. Not now. More's the pity. That's why World Cups are dull.

Among the locals of course, there is World Cup "fever", as the press like to refer to it. This mainly manifests itself in terms of noise pollution via car horns, and then the sound of whole cars being written off as Switzerland spoil the party. But there are not so many Spanish flags attached to a Seat aerial or trailing behind a moto, spluttering and farting along the main roads. There are more German flags to be seen. And of course English. St George's cross and Union flags. Then there are some strange flags. Like the ones that Cheers have put on the Cheers buggy and outside the bar. It's red with a white cross. Not white with a red cross, but red with a white cross. The vertical line is straight down the middle. Where does this flag come from? The closest, with any World Cup connotation, seems to be the Danish flag, but its vertical line is offset to the left. Danes there are, but they are not around in the same numbers as the English. And Cheers is, after all, meant to be a British (English) bar. I reckon that someone ordered some St George's flags and got the colours round the wrong way.

Unlike the local Spanish I can't really get worked up about it all. World Cups are no longer what they were and what they should be - utterly unjust and a thigh-high tackle away from actual bodily harm. Mind you, this one might be like others - England will prove to be rubbish, and Germany will win it.


David Coleman. Fabulous. The Battle of Santiago, 1962:




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