World Cup Fever

I tell you, much as I've tried to tell myself that I don't care about the world cup this year, much as I have been telling myself that Tottenham's magnificent season (by our standards, at least) has already overshadowed anything England could possibly achieve this summer, much as I've tried to write off the standard national-pride mongering that comes out of my native land this time every 4 years, much as I tried all of that...the moment I turned on the TV this morning and watched South Africa vs. Mexico I could not help it. My deep, deep love for the greatest tournament in the world re-surfaced like seeing an ex-girlfriend for the first time in years.

Thus, over the coming weeks I will include my favourite personal memories of previous World Cups (Warning: England will be featured heavily).

This one was the happiest and saddest I have ever been at a football match within a space of about three seconds. It was the 1998 quarter finals against Argentina. The game was deadlocked at 2-2. Beckham had been sent off, the odds were stacked against us and Sol Campbell at the time was England's #1 centre back, captain of Tottenham and own personal hero.

I was in the Fire & Firkin pub in Brentwood when it happened. The corner came in, bodies flew towards the ball. Sol rose majestically above everyone to nod magnificently into the enemy net. It was his first goal for England. We were suddenly 3-2 up with only a few minutes left. Victory was ours. Beer went flying, we all fell to the floor and, watching Sol reel away in celebration (see picture), I almost cried with happiness...it was beautiful.

However when I got myself up off the floor, I looked up to notice the game was still playing....the goal has been disallowed for a foul on the goalie by Alan Shearer. Cue the sound of god taking a dump on my heart. We went on to lose on penalties and I walked home drunk, smelly and covered in tears.

Like all good ex-girlfriends though, I still keep coming back for more.

Peace,

John.