Hiding To Nothing

Football fans are very big on using the exploits of past idols as a benchmark for success. Not for us to accept the individual brilliance of current players, for they are but new kids on the block until they fill the bigger boots of those who preceded them. Bollocks to that I say, but I sometimes wonder if mine is but a voice in the wilderness.

Take Lionel Messi. ‘Leo’ HAS to be the new Maradona. People INSIST on it, BAY for it as if they’re lusting after his blood. And to become the new Maradona, he has to win the World Cup. If Messi is not the new Maradona, then something’s wrong with him.

How things change! I recall everyone dissing Maradona as we did Paul Gascoigne, with not a single club wanting El Diego on board after his unruly spell at Barcelona. No one was making Pele comparisons back then, I can assure you. Then Napoli took a punt on him, and after El Diego’s miracles with them he was briefly white hot property again. At least until his Argentina knocked Italy out of World Cup 1990, and then the resentment towards him across Italy (except of course, in Napoli) grew like an avalanche.

As they say: hindsight is a great thing. And strangely enough, half the people who wanted Maradona dead during his career have now donned the rose-tinted glasses. Suddenly we’re all apologists and admirers who shake our head and go ‘why of course he was the best ever’, mainly because there’s less footage available of Pele’s brilliance. Personally I don’t care about these ‘who was the best?’ comparisons, which ignore the complexity of the game's dynamics. I find them both odious and tedious, a bit like children in the playground squabbling over which daddy has the nicest car.

 

I thought it was set in stone that Messi couldn’t perform on the international stage. So I was impressed by his match-winning displays in Brazil, in which he dragged the Argies almost single-handedly to their first final in close to 25 years. He then missed a sitter against the Germans, and now we’re all shaking our heads in disappointment moaning that ‘he’s not Maradona’.

 

 

 

What if Messi doesn’t want to be Maradona?! Maybe Messi looks at Maradona and restrains a shudder thinking, ‘why on earth am I expected to be this grinning dwarf who looks like a cross between a second hand car dealer and a chubby mom from a slum?’ But he can’t say that in public that can he? Of course bloody not! The Argies even have a church dedicated to Maradona for Christ’s sake(?)! Don’t get me wrong, I love Maradona because of the sheer genius that was sewn to the little gem’s shadow, but I just can’t stand this baiting of Messi anymore.

Messi is just a boy who enjoyed his football, and suddenly found himself the best striker in the world. In his own words:

“I never think about the play or visualize anything. I do what comes to me at that moment. Instinct. It has always been that way”

Everything about him hints at the accidental hero. He has a cast that’s almost mousey, and seems constantly embarrassed and hangs his head when he talks. You can tell that he really couldn’t give a damn about all the adulation, although I’m sure he doesn’t mind the money. But you’ll never see Messi grinning more broadly than in private shots of him with his family and / or friends, which I think is telling.

Why is it that we are so desperate for cycles to repeat themselves in the exact same manner? Maybe it’s because we’re all fundamentally insecure? But this smacks of boredom! And unnecessary mental burdens which hamper the current crop. Maybe it's these constant comparisons which led Messi to fluff his golden chance in the final! Maybe for a split second there he thought ‘now what would bloody Diego have done…s**t missed it!’

I’ll bet that if he'd tucked that ball away and won the World Cup for Argentina, a new bandwagon of comparison would have started rolling down the street, full of naysayers jumping up and down on it shouting: ‘until he wins a league with a crap side like Napoli he cannot be El Die!’ Or some other hare-brained comment like: 'ok so now the Maradona benchmark has been met by Messi, but can he exceed it and become the best ever?' The poor guy is simply on a hiding to nothing, just because he was born in Argentina, wears number 10 and is good at football.

In any event, Messi has at least one more tournament in which to win the cup, and match Maradona’s exploits at international level. Because at club level, people should need no reminder that Messi’s collection of medals totally dwarfs El Diego’s haul. I know that medals and awards don’t necessarily reflect the quality of the player, but I think it is worth pointing them out because it’s quite simply annoying that the greatest striker of our time is constantly beaten up because of a predecessor who is part of World Cup folklore.
 

 

 

As long as I’ve drawn breath, everyone’s gone on and on about the new Maradona, as if he’s the new Messiah come to relieve us from our daily boredom and transport us into a better world. Even though we were quick to dismiss Maradona during his playing days because of his off (and on) the field antics, just like everyone (except new Barca manager Luis Enrique) dismisses Suarez now, despite his undoubted brilliance.

Throughout the years the list of pretenders has been endless. We've had Ariel Ortega, Riquelme, Saviola, D'Alessandro - not to mention Tevez – and so many others that I’ve forgotten them now. Every half decent striker and offensive midfielder cursed to be born in Argentina cops it. They HAVE to be the new Maradona.

But if their side comes up short at the World Cup, then their whole career is flushed down the lavvy and they are perceived as another ‘false dawn’. But the new Maradona Messiah will come, trust me! Look at Messi! He even scored against a poor La Liga side in the same way that El Diego did against England in ‘86! Aren't the stars aligned? Hasn't the reincarnation taken place? Isn't the prophecy now set to be fulfilled? And yah-dee-yah-dee-dah.

We always seem to build up our football heroes and then tear them down, for whatever daft reason. But we inevitably always miss them once they’ve hung up their boots, just like we missed Maradona when he was gone, after years spent raising our eyebrows at the mere mention of his name. Perhaps we should just be thankful that Messi was such a riveting presence at the last World Cup, desperate to lead his side into the breach even if it meant throwing up from fatigue (as he did in the final).

At the end of the day, I'm sure Messi couldn’t care less about these comparisons, so long as he’s left everything on the pitch. After all, he has his own personal objectives to reach, regardless of gossip or silverware. Messi is great because he is Messi. A down to earth kid who loves to play football, who once shrugged his shoulders and said:

“I'm more worried about being a good person than being the best football player in the world. When all this is over, what are you left with? When I retire, I hope I am remembered for being a decent guy” 

A decent guy who will perhaps remain the greatest paradox of all: a phenomenal player with a trophy-laden career, who just could not win.

 

 

 

Königstigers

In 1998 neutrals across the football world heaved a sigh of relief when Germany crashed out of the world cup quarter finals. Theirs was a brand of football that was insipid and boring, made worse by the loss of the mercurial Matthias Sammer to career-ending injury in 1997. Without him in the side, the Germans’ tactics seemed limited to outmuscling opposition into a paralysis, and employing the long-ball in the direction of Oliver Bierhoff’s head. So it was no surprise to see them stuffed 3-0 by a wonderful Croatia side, led by silky Suker and a dazzling Prosinecki.

Incredibly, the German team still held eight veterans who had lifted the world cup in Italia ’90. This left the German public to wonder whether things needed to be freshened up at youth level. These concerns were justified when an even drearier Germany side crashed out of the group stage at Euro 2000, a tournament largely remembered for its beautiful football.

Germany was heading home early, after ending up bottom of its group, and had even lost to England (who also crashed out at the group stage). Hard as it is to believe now, the Eagles only had one player under 23: Sebastian Deisler, who was soon to retire from the game due to depression (perhaps crushed by the pressure of carrying the burden of Germany’s future alone?) ‘Rock bottom’ was an understatement, for a protagonist usually renowned for its tenacity, endurance and ability to grind out wins any which way.

Could the unthinkable have finally happened? Had the Germans finally fallen behind? Were we finally rid of their boring football? Would other, more entertaining sides step in to fill the void?

Not so fast laddie.

There are few certainties in life, one of which is setback. And if there is one nation that pulls together to overcome setback, it is Germany. This is as true in football, as it is in war. During World War 1, the ‘Jerries’ only fielded 20 tanks whilst the Allies manufactured thousands (of dodgy ones). Despite the clunky nature of these vehicles, it took hours and countless lives to subdue them, and the Krauts were quick to learn from this setback.

In World War II the Germans built thousands of tanks, and a few blitzkriegs later they had Continental Europe by the short and curlies. They even designed a tank called the ‘Tiger’ by Ferdinand Porsche. Hundreds of these armoured vehicles were produced, which mowed through any remaining opposition and rendered Europe and North Africa Germany’s playground. The Germans also went on to further improve this model, placing hundreds of orders for the ‘Tiger II’ also known as the ‘Königstiger’ (German for ‘Bengal Tiger’) and informally called the ‘King Tiger’ by the Allies. It was a tank with added layers of steel, and without precedent in the sophistication of its design.

That’s the Germans for you: (1) identify the problem in a system, (2) solve it, (3) improve the system, (4) take full advantage of this improved capability. Sounds simple enough, and it’s the logical way things should work. Yet how many governments, corporations and organisations worldwide refrain from taking these simple steps? Without a doubt, it is this attitude which has drawn global admiration towards the German way of doing things.

With cold eyed focus and steely determination, the Germans set about turning around the performances of their national team. They studied the recent exploits of the French, who were pioneers in overhauling their youth system, which led them to win World Cup ’98 and Euro 2000. The Germans then rolled up their sleeves and got to work.

In May 1999, Beckenbauer spearheaded a new initiative to produce the new breed of German footballer. All across the land, 121 national talent centres were built to boost the technical practice of 10 to 17 year olds, with each one hiring two full time coaches. All 36 professional clubs in Bundesliga 1 and Bundesliga 2 were ordered to build youth academies if they wanted to keep their place in the league. In these academies, at least 12 players in each intake had to be eligible to play for Germany.

In 2002-2003, it was also recognised that 60% of players in the German first division were foreign (still the case with the English Premier League today). Facing unsustainable wage bills, German clubs started to release the well-paid but fairly mediocre foreigners on their rosters, replacing them with cheaper recruits from their youth teams instead. Apart from helping the balance sheet, crowd attendance actually increased when fans stormed stadiums again to see home grown talent. By 2010-2011 season, more than half of the players in the Bundesliga were German, with German football going from strength to strength in European competition.

The unity between clubs and the German FA was also crucial in achieving these objectives. This was further fostered through the stipulation that no single entity can own more than 49% of a Bundesliga club, which prevents foreign owners who don’t care about the national team from taking over it. In turn, this has prevented the infighting which still occurs between the FA, Premier League and Football League in England, which constantly hampers plans to fix the endemic problems in English grass roots football. In Germany, on the other hand, both clubs and FA are engaged in constant discussion about improving youth development.

A wide net has also been cast across the land in the form of state federations, DFB (German Football League) bases, youth academies with elite schools and youth national teams. These serve as countless catchbasins which make it impossible for a German football talent to slip through the cracks.

When Germany crashed out again in the group stage of the Euros in 2004, Jurgen Klinsmann took over as national manager, dismissing old FA dinosaurs with his own progressive thinkers. They radically changed the playing style of the national side, making it full of attacking thrust like a Premier League side which pressed high up the pitch. Although he was portrayed in some quarters as being a naïve idealist, Klinsmann guided his young national side on an impressive run to the semis of World Cup 2006.

His assistant turned successor Joachim Low maintained the new philosophy with a few tactical tweaks, and an ensuing flood of world class talent created by the structural changes at grass roots level made his job a lot easier. ’06 babies Schweinsteiger, Podolski and Lahm were suddenly joined by your young Ozils and Khediras in 2010, to which was added a layer of Hummels and Howedes in 2012, plus another layer of armour consisting of 2014’s Schuerrle, Kroos, and Goetze (not to mention Marco Reus, reputedly the best of a golden midfield, who tragically missed out on World Cup 2014 through injury).

It took a while for this new generation to finally break its duck and get its hands on a major trophy in Brazil 2014, being only denied in major tournaments since 2006 by the cannier and more experienced Spain (which had made its own ground-breaking changes to its youth system) and Italy (whose youth development has traditionally always been very advanced).

The new German Eagles’ coming of age could not have been announced more emphatically on the world stage than when they took Brazil apart 7-1 in the now infamous semi-final, a result which sent tremors around the football world. Fans watched on in amazement and wonder as the Germans outfoxed the Brazilians with a swift passing game that had once been the hallmark of the ‘Seleccao’, and which left hundreds of Brazilian fans in the stadium cheering on the Eagles instead of their own side.

But it was no fluke either. Brazilians are always said to have better football skills than players from other nations since their kids have a ball at their feet as soon as they can stand, and develop incredible technique when playing in small groups in narrow side streets and alleys. The German system has in recent years also incorporated this advantage, by only emphasising on drilling kids in elite centres at a slightly older age. Younger age groups are instead made to focus on individual skills, starting with the Under 9s who are made to play four-aside on small pitches, with a player added each year until 11-aside is played at under 13 level!

English comedians have often made light of German footballers, mocking their efficient manner (and penalty-taking) by comparing the Krauts to ‘robots’. But the smile is swiftly being wiped off the face of all jesters, because this is no longer a case of the traditional old German ‘robots’ but a mass production of world class talent on an industrial scale.

Like the production of Tiger tanks played its part in bringing the world to its knees, Germany has devised a way of returning to the apex of the world game. By winning the world cup, the German boys have declared themselves men, and the bench is bursting with world class players. Through a journey of reinvention and getting the little things right, Germany is once more the alpha predator of international football. With a trophy cabinet that looks set to burst. 

Robert De Nirov

There’s something about Fabio Capello that reminds me of Robert De Niro, and it’s not just the Italian connection. For a start, both men are household names, and legends in their respective fields. Each has also been accused of selling out spectacularly in the twilight of his years, with both electing to cash in late by taking up roles that are very highly paid and a tad…erm…suspect.

Was a time when I would make it a point to watch every De Niro movie I heard of. The mere presence of his name on a cast list was a gold stamp of affirmation, inviting you to delight in classic flicks like ‘The Godfather 2’, ‘Cape Fear’, ‘The Deer Hunter’, ‘Raging Bull’, ‘We’re No Angels’ etc etc etc. Nowadays, however, I see his name and think ‘meh’. ‘Men of Honour’ might well have been his last decent appearance on the silver screen, if not his swansong. Then came horrors like ‘Meet The Fockers’, and rom com shockers like ‘The Big Wedding’, or critically panned offerings such as ‘Hide and Seek’. 

My skin crawled when I recently read that he was uniting with Stallone to star in ‘Grudge Match’. Seriously, what the…? Jake La Motta meets Rocky Balboa? In 2014?! Stallone recently declared how hesitant he was to star in this movie, until a call from De Niro made him change his mind. What? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?! No, it was De Niro who changed Stallone’s mind to act in a dodgy movie because ‘we’ll have a good time.’

As disillusioned as this makes me feel, it is not impossible to understand. Nowadays Bobby De Niro is reported to command 20 million bucks a movie, with backenders worth 20% of earnings. Good on him I say, and who are we to call him a sell out? When it comes to money for jam, let every dog lick their own balls (as the Spaniards so eloquently put it). At the end of the day we’ve all got bills to pay, and in this age of extreme financial uncertainty, you could burn a million in the blink of an eye.

 

 

Which brings us to Fabio Capello. The old tactician is presently on a cool 11.5-ish million bucks a year to coach Russia, making him the highest paid national team manager on the planet. This is almost twice the income of second highest earning national gaffer, England’s Roy Hodgson, presently on a yearly paycheck just short of 6 million bucks. Both managers are doing very well when you consider that their teams didn’t make it out of the world cup’s group stage.

Of course, public knowledge of these figures only fuels the national outrage when the teams managed by these coaches fail to deliver. Russia crashed out of Brazil ‘14 almost a fortnight ago, but tempers are still boiling over at the team’s performances. Just today, a small band of fans gathered outside the Russian Football Headquarters and hurled condoms filled with water at the building, whilst calling for the President of the Russian Football Union to do something very naughty to himself.

This latest protest follows hot on the heels of a recent rant by Russian right wing politician Vladimir Zhirinovsky (‘Zhiri’), who called on the Duma’s committee on sport to summon Capello to publicly answer for Russia’s poor showing in Brazil:

'We need to look into his work and ask him to resign. But he’s greedy, so of course he won’t. It’s pretty good to get millions for doing nothing. The team lost and it doesn’t affect his pay in any way. Thief!'

This may sound a bit hypocritical coming from ‘Zhiri’, especially since a number of his pre-election promises - such as providing all Russians with free vodka and underwear (?!) - have not yet materialised. His accusations have been received lightly overseas, where ‘Zhiri’ is perceived as a bit of a bad joke, with his latest antics including an open threat to have his aides rape a pregnant journalist, and publicly spitting at political opponents.

Yet people forget that Russia is not the rest of the world, and that ‘Zhiri’ is also suspected of being a secret servant of the Kremlin, who use his radical outbursts to test populist sentiment on a number of puerile issues, just to see if any political mileage can be made out of them by HE WHO SHALL NOT BE NAMED. And although the word is that Capello is ready to stand in the dock to save his handsome kitty, he should be careful. The rage of the man in the street shows no sign of abating as Russia’s politicians perform an open post-mortem of their world cup exit. An already disillusioned public is only getting angrier that their side were a bit rubbish, since they can’t avoid the feeling that Capello is a bit of a, well, a gold digger.

Fabio Capello does not look like your usual gold digger. His jaw is that of a Renaissance Habsburg, and his face is more wrinkled than a retired cavalryman’s bottom. At 68 he does not seem to possess a single silver hair, which is dyed so strongly that it looks like a large slab of chocolate fudge fell onto his head. This is not to mention the steely stare of a demented serial killer, which is hardly softened by a pair of black-rimmed square spectacles, and which cannot help but remind you of Francis Dolarhyde in ‘Red Dragon’. All in all, an appearance which has not gone unnoticed by the right wing buffoon of Zhiri:

‘Even the way he looks makes it hard to like him! He looks like a schoolteacher!’

Admittedly we would all prefer it if team managers at world cups were tall and fetching blonde damsels. But instead, Brazil 2014 has served us with the likes of Pekerman and Sabella, who look like white walkers. Germany’s Joachim Low still dresses like a fresh divorcee trying to get back into the game, whilst ‘Big’ Phil Scolari resembles a butcher with a crazed glint in his eye, who is itching for the cameras to be turned off so that he can deck someone. I could go on and on, but what is certain is that national team managers are not paid for their looks.

Zhiri’s fellow MP Oleg Pakholkov is also convinced that Capello is only on the Russian bench to make a financial killing:

‘I think Capello knew very well he would achieve nothing with our team, but he simply decided it was a good way to make money, he wanted to hoover up bundles of cash for his retirement’

 

Of course the other implication to be had from this accusation is that even Capello’s accusers know that the national side is rubbish, even though they are asking Don Fabio to explain how he intends to turn a team of donkeys into racehorses. The Russian politicians also want Capello to understand that he is not the nation’s ‘little bit on the side’, and that he is being paid to exceed the feats of other national team managers whose salaries are dwarfed by his, even though their sides reached the knockout rounds.

As a long-time admirer of the Italian, I find it hard to believe the rough patch he has found himself in. His cause was hardly helped earlier this year, when he called up the wrong player, Andrey Semyonov, to a friendly with Armenia. But in his current role Capello must be having more trouble overcoming suffixes than managing his players. A recent team-sheet of his read: Kannunikov, Kerzhakov, Shatov (not joking either – and no, he’s not a central defender), Kozlov, Kombarov, Denisov, Glushakov – reading that lineup alone must leave Capello’s head spinning, and even I’m sortov struggling to tell who’s who!

It's days like these when Capello must miss the majestic cauldrons of San Siro and the Bernabeu, where he once reigned supreme over mouth-watering world talent. Which is not to mention his dominance at the Delle Alpi, and the days when he was lauded as the Emperor of Rome, after leading perennial runners-up AS Roma to the Serie A title. Moscow must be a lonely place for him at times, and with him being constantly held up as a model family man devoted to his wife, it’s not even as if he can head out on the town when things are stressful to help himself to a few slappers and knock back the bubbly. In short, it’s not exactly a case of money for nothing and chicks for free. How he must yawn with boredom!

Yet Russia’s latest failure to qualify from the group stage has suddenly made life difficult for him, worse than when his England crashed out of World Cup 2010. Which also begs the question: why did the Russians spend so much money on him in the first place, when Capello’s England adventure clearly demonstrated that even the best manager in the world cannot achieve much if he does not have the right tools at his disposal? One wonders why the money was not spent to further develop grass roots football in the country instead.

 

But if Capello is indeed thrown out, and manages to flee Russia with his life, he will be relieved to pocket 15 million USD in compensation. This would in turn permit him a comfortable Sabbatical, during which he can get hired by a Gulf State or perhaps even join his compatriot Marcello Lippi in China. Believe it or not, he might even fancy his chances of securing a greater salary, since Don Fabio is only the fifth highest paid manager in the world, after Arsenal’s Arsene Wenger (also in the 11 mill region), Lippi (13.8 mill), Jose Mourinho (13.93 mill), and – wait for it – Pep Guardiola (24.63 mill). Ah! No wonder Pep learnt German so fast!!!

Football has certainly become a big bad business full of bigger bucks. And it cannot be disputed that a manager’s job is highly stressful. Yet if clubs and countries keep on shelling out this kind of money to hire a manager, one wonders how long it will be before Hollywood stars start turning their heads in envy towards the gaffer’s dugout.
 

 

Bit Of History Repeating

With 8 sides left, the real business is about to start. The football’s getting much sexier now, and if the knockout rounds of the world cup were women at a beauty pageant, the quarters have – in my opinion – often been in the running for Miss World. Let’s face it: bar a few exceptions the final is generally overrated stuff, usually tainted by tense and overcautious football, and accompanied by the nostalgic feeling that the whole month of ecstasy is at an end. The semis lie somewhere in between, with one of them sometimes being the real final (e.g. Germany – Spain at the last World Cup), and therefore being hot contenders at the beauty pageant too.

So it must be heady stuff finding your country in the last 8 of the world cup, even if it’s just to be part of a cracking quarter-final fixture. It’s the sort of game that makes a tragic like me wake up at two in the morning, regardless of my real world commitments. And it’s not like I’ve got anyone left to support in the quarters! Malta are best not mentioned, and Australia has never been happier about having lost three games on the trot. Italy and England fluffed their lines early, and better not mention Spain.

 

 

 

I simply can’t imagine what it must be like to watch a quarter final with your own country in it. A rush of blood to the head no doubt, which is why we’ve been hearing some off the wall comments this week that fall between the jingoistic and the downright barmy. First up is Colombia veteran Faustino Asprilla, with his stout claim that "Colombia can beat Brazil easily".

It’s not reading the ‘Colombia beating Brazil’ bit that made me splutter on my cornflakes, but the word ‘easily’, which stuck out like that Scottish supporter in the Uruguayan crowd when England were playing the Celeste. Anyone who claims that beating Brazil at their own patch comes ‘easily’ is surely recovering from a long night out on a proper British bender. Which is strange, because the little Colombian last played for Newcastle United sixteen years ago.

Then there’s drill sergeant and full time poker face Jorge Luis Pinto, Costa Rica’s gaffer. He who pulled off the world cup’s greatest miracle ever by getting whipping boys Costa Rica to top a group filled with three former world cup winners.

“we respect the Netherlands, just as we respect all our rivals, but the story goes on and we’re hungry for more”

Not one to muck around is he? And how about French starlet Paul Pogba’s wild claim that he is not afraid of the Germans: "No, I am not afraid. Why?"

Try explaining to him the difference between cowardice and a healthy dose of caution when facing a team brimming with frightening potential. Yet to do so is probably about as pointless as former German keeper Schumacher’s recent apology to the French people for all but killing Battiston in the ’82 world cup semi (I can’t believe he has the gall to even go there).

And finally, just to top it all off, is Belgian coach Marc Wilmots’ audacious claim that Argentina ‘lack balance’.

 

 

 

 

Don’t get me wrong, going into a challenge on the front foot is a great thing. But what does needlessly fanning the expectations of supporters really achieve? It’s like the England manager affirming that his side are in the tournament to win it, to then register surprise when 3 Lions fans immediately start beating their chest with wild claims of it being ‘their year’ (they promised they wouldn’t do that this year, but then went ahead and did it all over again).

I’m not trying to be cynical, really. No one loves an underdog more than I do. I’d love it if we had Colombia - France and Costa Rica – Belgium semis, and love it even more if a new country went on to win the world cup. But I’ve heard all this pre-match hype from pretenders all too many times before.

To my mind, the world cup has always been about the big four, and the rest. And by ‘big 4’ I do mean Brazil, Italy, Germany and Argentina (who else?!!!). Seeing them huffing and puffing in the early stages doesn’t mean a dried fig in my experience, because you never know where they’ll end up once they get through the group stage. And don’t talk to me about ‘golden generations’ and ‘special players’. Germany only had poor sides on offer between ’94 and 2006, and even then they managed to get their hands on silverware at Euro ’96 and progress to a world cup final in ‘02.

The big 4 share a winning tradition, regardless of the quality at their disposal. It’s why it’s so surprising whenever one of them crashes out, like Italy did this time around. Put simply, they are teams who field players that know how to win. This is an attribute of all great athletes, like tennis players who suddenly lift their game mid-way through a stiff encounter with a quality opponent. When the chips are down, these sides also just shift a gear and start driving faster. Much FASTER.

And the longer they last in the tournament, the stronger they get. The quality of their early displays matters not - just look at Germany and Argentina in Italia ’90, Brazil in ’94 and ’02, and Italy in ’94 and ‘06. Who cares if they start slowly, get through the group stage by the skin of their teeth, have a man sent off early in the game, are a goal down with a minute left on the clock, end up on penalties etc. Sometimes real quality needs a heap of acute pressure to shine through. And somehow, more often than not, they’ll wing it.

I’m hoping that some messianic figure like James Rodriguez makes me eat my words, I really do. But it takes something out of the ordinary for a new country to break the hegemony: usually a unique generation bursting with X factor, like Spain at the last world cup. However I’m struggling to see it happening this year, and I fear that in yet another tournament, the old Welsh crooner’s classic is going to ring true once more:

The word is about, there's something evolving,

whatever may come, the world keeps revolving

They say the next big thing is here,

that the revolution's near,

but to me it seems quite clear

that it's all just a little bit of history repeating

The newspapers shout a new style is growing,

but it don't know if it's coming or going,

there is fashion, there is fad

some is good, some is bad

and the joke is rather sad,

that it’s all just a little bit of history repeating

.. and I've seen it before

.. and I'll see it again

.. yes I've seen it before

.. just little bits of history repeating