SEEING as we now have had three (plus) days of sun, summer is finally here. With summer comes the longer evenings, the hotter days at work and of course, in every fourth year, a World Cup.
The 2010 World Cup kicks off this June and as usual, the wall charts are beginning to go up in offices and houses all over the county. Normally everyone on this isle goes for every other team but England. However, after our scandalous exit from the World Cup qualifiers we have a new enemy. We now, as a sports nation, hate France.
Some of us hope they don’t even score a goal, while others would like it for the Gauls to get to the final only for an Englishman, no wait, a German, to handle the ball into the net to win 1-0.
With a World Cup, of course, come buckets and buckets of useless information. Phrases such as “He plays for XYZ FC you know. Liverpool are after him to partner Torres” or “Ghana are so much better than Serbia, you don’t know anything about football” or one of my favorites, “God I hate England” said of course while wearing a Man United jersey with Rooney on the back.
The World Cup itself is an enigma. The football is rarely of a high quality until the semi finals and the suits worn by TV pundits can often be the most talked about features of the group stages.
One thing is still guaranteed though. We will watch all the matches we can. We will forego any prior arranged engagement, including the reception of a friends wedding to watch a somewhat meaningless match had it been played in October would not have made us switch away from Eastenders. The magic of the World Cup is something that captures us all. Either we will miss that Ireland are not there or will be delighted for the fatter wallets. All that matters though is that we get the chance to watch more sport than normal and after all, that is our energy source, not that thing that hides behind the clouds all year long.
