Day 17 (and 16); Brazil shoot out Chile, and King HA-MEZ Rodriguez.

As day sixteen was the first time that no games were played since the World Cup began with Pitbull in those white trousers, I shall brush over it and go straight to the seventeenth day, and the start of the knockouts. On the day off, news stories seemed to conveniently emerge back home rather than in Brazil, with transfers being sealed, swooped and confirmed as well as players arriving at training grounds for medicals, proven by footage of them walking in and out of parked cars, and even players holding up the shirts of their new clubs with fixed-smiles.

"Day 16."

Day 14 & 15; Group stage is over, now let's move on.

The group stage is now over, and so is that delightful honeymoon period of the beginning of the World Cup, but unlike the stereotypes of many post-honeymoon relationships, our love affair with the World Cup should get even better now the initial stages have concluded. Through reasons which mainly circulate around the sheer depressing nature of England's campaign, motivation to write, talk, or even talk about football has been at somewhat of a low, thus the entwining of days 14 and 15 as I try to, unlike England, get past the group stage and enjoy the remainder of the tournament, and as quickly as possible.

Time to change my phone background?

Before this could happen though, groups E to H had to be resolved, whether teams had already qualified or booked plane tickets home or not. Wednesday saw last sixteen anticipating France, met Ecuador, with chances of qualifying still very much possible, hinging on fellow hopefuls, Switzerland's match against 'next-flight-home-Honduras.' Out of all four teams on display, only one team managed to trigger the Goal Line Technology, and only one player, Xherdan Shaqiri. The Bayern Munich winger, built like a solid muscular cube, and linked with a transfer to a number of clubs, one of which wears a red kit on Merseyside, put in one of the individual performances of the competition to date, and providing it with it's first hat-trick, displaying a range of attributes in all three goals. 

The first was undoubtedly the most pleasing to the eye, initially showing ridiculous strength as the seemingly three-foot tall young man held players twice his size off the ball, and then, moving away from goal, outside the box, hammered a shot past the Honduran between the sticks to put his country one up. Half an hour into the game he had his second, this time catching the opponents on the break as he tore up the ground with silly pace to make himself available for a simple pass, to finish a one on one with composure I'd love to liken to Michael Owen if you'd all let me. After scoring, he insisted on over-complimenting the seemingly simple assist, pointing at his team mate several times to make the crowd aware of the part he played in the goal, heartwarming, but somewhat awkward as Shaqiri and Drmic exchanged points and smiles as if to say; "this guy!" "No no, THIS guy."

Drmic and an apparently drunk Shaqiri, exchanging points  

Meanwhile, France and Ecuador were playing out a nil-nil draw, enlightened only by the odd penalty appeal and another red card for Antonio Valencia, who on the back of his red card worthy-tangle with Raheem Sterling in the pre-tournament friendlies, seems to having be having a mid-career crisis, trying to reinvent himself as a 'no nonsense hard-man.' His namesake and nothing more, Enner Valencia, seemed the most likely to score for the South Americans, and not just because he's their only player to score in the competition, but also because of his gigantic leap when attempting to win headers that were, to quite Andy Townsend, 'in and around the box.'

But elsewhere, Shaqiri alone was continuing to supply everything the France-Ecuador game didn't, goals, he completed his hat-trick with a third left footed finish, and second unselfish celebration, as the Swiss team pointed and hugged themselves into the second round, alongside the previously free-scoring and now deadlocked, French.

Earlier on this day, Argentina who had ready qualified with much help of Messi's brilliance on the biggest stage of them all, added further momentum with a 3-2 victory over Nigeria, with much help of Messi's brilliance on the biggest stage of them all, creating a general consensus that this may really be the World Cup where he reaches the legendary status of Maradona, although hopefully without heartbreaking handballs 'from God,' severe obesity, terribly presented Argentine television programmes, and cocaine. Lionel's most impressive moment of the fixture was his free-kick, which curled into the top corner in a manner which could've only been sent there by a player on top form, with pretty much everything he's touching going right. However for Vincent Enyema, touching things appeared to the problem, as he watched the free-kick glide past him, barely moving a limb. The Nigerian goalkeeper seemed to beaten by the fact that the free-kick was taken by Messi, rather than the actual quality of the strike.

Enyema joined the thousands in the stadium and millions at home, as he watched Messi score.

'OMG ARE U LIONEL MESSI?'

The other, dramatically less viewed game was Bosnia versus Iran, in which the European side (that's Bosnia for those of you without a big enough brain or atlas) with nothing to play for, sunk their opponents who still had fairytale dreams of escaping the captivity of the group stage. Edin Dzeko hit a ball in a goal, after having the worst shots to goal ratio in the tournament beforehand; A very high number of shots : 0 goals.

At 2 nil down, the outstandingly surnamed Ghoochannejhad gave Iran hope on 82 minutes by pulling one back, only to have their dreams torn up and handed back to them a matter of seconds later as Bosnia reinstated their lead, and that was day 14.

The day after saw USA under German, Coach Klinsmann, meet their now Californiacated manager's motherland, Germany, in a match that if a draw occurred, both teams would qualify at the expense of Portugal and Ghana in the formerly known; 'Group of Death,' and now referred to as the group with 'Everything to play for.' But the worry was that the only thing USA and Germany would 'play for' would be a draw, fuelled by a similar situation in 1982 when Germany met best buds Austria and conjured a German victory, the stereotype that Germans are awfully slimy characters and the Illuminati.

Illuminati.

But the contest was well fought, with Müller's ridiculously technically efficient side-foot shot into Tim Howard's net the only difference between the two sides. Well not the only difference, as USA also had a couple of players with dreadlocks, not to be found in the German ranks. Despite the loss, Ghana's shortcomings and Ronaldo's inability to score more than one goal per World Cup finals meant his Portugual side were eliminated, despite a 2-1 victory over the African nation, lead by Asamoah Gyan, the richest man with the number 3 etched into the side of his head. Portugal ultimately paid the price for their poor opener against Germnay/Pepe being a nonce.

Group H was by far the least entertaining group, bucking the trend that this World Cuo has been the most enjoyable yet. The fixtures responsible for providing one last Group H snoozefest, sharing the blame with Capello, were Algeria versus the Italian's Russians, and lightly shaded horses, rather than dark, Belgium, against South Korea. 

When so called 'Russian Golden Boy,' Kokorin, nailed in a header in the sixth minute, Capello must've thought his World Cup misery was finally ending, looking somewhat excited in his little red sweater vest. But normal service was resumed, and again Algeria were making the best paid manager in the tournament look silly. Slimani's equaliser was enough to put Algeria through into the last sixteen, whilst condoning Russia to elimination and Capello to join Hodgson and Prandelli, as the least successful but most rich managers in Brazil. 

Belgium yet again bored us for most of a match, with rare excitement provided by one of their midfielders seeing a red cats for a randomly over aggressive challenge. The over aggressor in question was Steven Defour, whose surname sounds like that of Jermaine Defoe, being pronounced by a Jamaican. The team whose pre-tournament hype has meant they were stripped of their 'surprise package' tag, did still steal three points as Spurs centre-back and Belgium left back followed scored a rebound in the 77th minute, another late(ish) goal for the not-so-much-surprise-package-more-like-expected-delivery-which-arrived-on-time-and-was-pretty-much-what-we-anticipated-if-not-are-a-little-underwhelmed-by-it. 

Verthongen after scoring for the dark horses with a red and yellow diagonal stripe through them.

Day 13; An almost 'bite-pun-free' roundup.

Was today even a day? Like, there was the England game, in all it's mind numbingly depressing glory, then Luis Suarez bit someone again, then there were some other games afterwards, I think. After checking BBC Sports' results page, I can tell you in hindsight that today was the day that as well as Group D's ugly curtain coming down, was also filled with Japan versus Colombia and Greece against Ivory Coast.

To the tune of; 'Don't look back in anger, I heard you say.'

But undoubtedly the main even kicked off at 5pm as England's 'young lions', so, cubs, opened up the surprise package, Costa Rica. Sadly, inside the package was a dull game, despite containing England's first point of these finals. Insult to injury for those among us who remain optimistic, defend Roy, defend Rooney and defend the way we defend, as our loyalty was still not rewarded with anything to shout about, other than an appeal for a penalty when Sturridge, on the cusp of surely scoring, was tripped up, to the disinterest of the referee. 

Simultaneously, another rather dull game was being carried out. In contrast to England-Costa Rica though, this may have been due to the nerves of what Italy and Uruguay were playing for, rather than the so called 'pride' that we were competing for, which is just a gift-wrapped way to describe having nothing to play for. England's conquerors were playing for the final Group D place in the last 16, after the first one was stolen (fairly) by Costa Rica. However, a draw would've been enough for the Italians, famous for being able to frustrate the world's greatest strikers, throwing clean sheets over them regularly when needed. And they literally did frustrate the world's greatest striker, the very frustratable, Luis Suarez.

With less than ten minutes to go, his country needed a goal to make all of his hard work worthwhile, not just in destroying England, but on the training ground and medical rooms to even get fit for this World Cup. The anger and deep, deep content this could cause on a player is obviously serious, especially in the adrenaline-filled mania that is professional sport, but not for the first time, the way Luis Suarez dealt with all this was simply unthinkable and inexcusable, especially considering he'd done this all already. Twice.

This picture genuinely makes me feel sad 

Suarez took a bite out of Georgio Chiellini as the two tangled inside the box, and in doing so, created the biggest controversy of the World Cup so far. The weird thing is, this tenacious, almost animalistic side to the Liverpool striker was supposed to have been well and truly tamed. A year on after sinking his teeth into Branislav Ivanovic, the impact of Rodgers' arm around Suarez and other man management methods had turned his disciplinary record around. Missing a chunk of the season, Suarez returned to football in October, instantly winning back the respect of many, scoring goal after goal and bar a Gerrard slip and Crystal Palace collapse, would've possibly fired Liverpool all the way back to the top, picking up the PFA Player of the Year award in the process. Along the way, we all got an insight into his lime, the negative attention allowed us to see Suarez, the family man, a seemingly genuine nice guy, albeit with a nasty temper.

Which leads this quizzical onlooker to thinking, surely this little genius of a footballer is actually a bit mental? I find it hard to believe, a man clearly so intelligent within his field, likeable off the pitch as far as I'm aware, (through such thorough research as a FourFourTwo interview with him and what Stevie G says about him) would really have an underlying evil enough side to him to think it's logical and justifiable to bite an opponent. Of course what he did is in no way defendable, but rather than trying to disgrace this man, maybe an element of sympathy should be donated as well, for there is undoubtedly something going on in Luis Suarez's fascinating brain that we, and maybe even he himself, does not quite understand.

Away from psychology, the match was settled by Diego Godin, shortly after Suarez's gnaw, and Uruguay qualified for the last sixteen at the expense of Italy, who many raved about after they narrowly beat England, maybe an indication of just poor we really are currently. Another indication was the final result in the previously mentioned dull-affair with Costa Rica, which despite the attacking prowess in our weaponry, finished nil-nil.

Not how a happy ending to a World Cup looks

The day's later events featured Greece's late gasp victory against Ivory Coast and consequent qualification to the the knockout round for the first, with the uncomfortably feminine looking Giorgos Samaras converting a softly awarded late penalty. Greece were yet to score in their campaign before this game and progressed on the traditional 'skin on their teeth' total, that is fourn points, at the expense of their African opponents. The other group C game's final score was much more one sided. Colombia, one of the most impressive and enjoyable teams to watch at these finals so far, defeated Japan by four goals to one, with help of yet another classy display from James Rodriguez, typified with the piffest of piffy goals. Already with two assists earlier in the match, the youngster whose name is pronounced 'Ha-Mez,' not James, ran onto the ball with a defender blocking his route to goal, with a jig-like shimmy the last man was thrown the wrong way before Rodriguez just lifted this deft chip over the keeper's head and peeled away to celebrate the most suave goal of the World Cup 2014. But all of this was eclipsed by a Uruguayan man biting an Italian, and all of the easy puns in headlines that it has caused. Food for thought?

Piff goal.

Day 12; Group A and B conclude, in non-alphabetical order

The final round of group games have arrived, and qualifications and plane tickets home are set to all be confirmed. Whilst minnows such as Englamd and Spain may already know their doomed fate, and heavyweights like Costa Rica already have one eye on the knock-outs, day 12 saw three teams play who are yet to confirm a top two finish in group A. Group B's matters had already been settled, with Holland and Chile qualifying ahead of Australia and Spain as they end their golden era, fittingly dressed in all black. (Ignore the fluorescent trimmings.) However the final placing of the two qualifiers was yet to be confirmed, and depending on who finished top, the chances of meeting Brazil, should they qualify, hung.

This meant the colourful-fan-derby between Netherlands and Chile, was key to the final group B standings, with a draw for the Oranje being enough to keep them above the Football Hipster's pick. The match itself was a "tactical" encounter, an adjective used by those in a studio who don't want to admit that a game has been dull. Chile possessed a large majority of the ball, but left enough men back to survive the expected counter-attacks that were so effective for the Dutch when they conquered Spain. Yet, on the counter Holland were still a threat, via the everlasting and always increasing pace of Arjen Robben, who predictably flew across the pitch diagonally from right to left, to angle a shot on his favoured foot, which he dragged just wide.

Colourful.

Meanwhile, Spain versus Australia had a testimonial feel to it, with David Villa, Spain's record goalscorer and general legend, playing his last game for his country, and fittingly marked it with another goal, stretching him another strike ahead of any other legendary Spanish striker or Fernando Torres. Also making their international bow, was the elegant Xabi Alonso, as the pass master mastered his last pass, on the international stage at least. The holders actually finally put in a champions-ish performance, albeit against a somewhat second-string Australia side, arguably the weakest of second-strings available in Brazil, likely to tear under any great pressure. On 69 minutes, Torres pulled the strings apart further, adding a second Spanish goal with a neat finish, sparking exclamations of; "He's back to his best," few seriously and hopefully mainly in irony.

Villa and Alonso, standing back upright after making their 'international bow.'

Back in São Paulo, Netherlands and Chile's deadlock had finally been broken, via an unlikely source considering his employers, Norwich City's Leroy Fer. The substitute leapt above the factually tiny Chile tea,, and power a header into the extreme-right hand side of the net. Yet another #SuperSub in this tournament, possible evidence of the humid conditions tiring those outfield all game long, emphasising the fresh-legged and in this case, fresh headed, substitutes effects on the outcome of the match. This goal on 77 minutes, all but secured Holland's position as group leaders, before Robben's outstanding pace yet again flung him through, this time to provide an assit for yet again a substitute, to score. Memphis Depay was the man apply the tap-in, his second of the tournament which hit the back of the net ten minutes after Juan Mata had added a third Spain goal in their simultaneously played match.

Then it was time for 'Everything to play for Group A,' incidently taking place after group B had concluded, the alphabet is said to be furious. Cameroon had experienced an awful World Cup so far, including no goals scored, a terribly stupendous red card for Alex Song and fighting between teammates on the field. Forgiveness could be issue to those who assume the scenes inside the dressing room are even worse. However, after ruining their own tournament, they still had the ability to ruin everyone else's by causing a shock defeat to Brazil which could not only knock the hosts out, but trigger a rise in riots and general national uproar already situated in the country. At times it looked like that was possible, the team with only the abstract noun, pride, to play for, caused Brazil's defence a few problems, out-pacing the paciest defence.

Mr. World Cup 2014, Neymar, put Brazil ahead with a composed finish with the most text book of text book side-foot finishes. But after Thiago Silva hit his own cross bar, and along with other chances created, Cameroon pulled back to severely panic everyone. Whilst all this was happening, there was still a stalemate between Mexico and Croatia in their decider, the winner would guarantee a place in the next round, but more interestingly for us neutrals was the effect that fixture could have on Brazil's qualification, especially as both games were finely poised in the balance.

But, Neymar, with all the pressure on bis team but let's be honest, mainly him, continued to run this tournament. Some said he wasn't that great despite his two goals against Croatia, prbably the same people who say he was poor against Mexico, but surely no-one can dispute just how good he was here. He skipped through and applied a goalkeeper-deceiving finish to put Brazil back in control, and put him as the front runner to try on the Golden Boot. On the confidence of this, he produced a section of skilful play, 'YouTube search: Neymar Skills and Goals' worthy, controlling a high ball well, flicking over and opponents head afterwards, then charismatically over his own head to pass to another yellow shirt, before making an off the ball run which ensured him possession again, which he welcomed with feint touch off the outside of his foot to complete another pass, spinning full circle whilst doing so, arguably the move of the World Cup so far. All that was missing was another return to the number 10, and the net bulging.

To execute such skill, whilst apparently holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, or at least that of Brazil

The hosts went on to dominate, punishing Cameroon who dropped back into their bad habits of poor defending and simply poor football-ing. A Brazil-esque move after Mbia squandered possession rounded the game off, securing their place in the last 16 against Chile. Back in Arena Pernambuco (named after Juninho possibly? The guy with the free-kicks?), Mexico's World Cup veteran Rafa Marquez headed them into the lead, to delight his neckless, extravagant manager, Miguel Herrera. Then, with their World Cup very much on the slide, Croatia crumbled. Mexico went 3-nil up in a matter of ten minutes after scoring the opener, and although Perisic pulled a goal back for the Croats, their campaign still finished on a down note as Rebic was given a classic 'red card out of frustration' before the final whistle blew.

Day 11; Random Goalfest and the odds-on-outsiders-surprise-package-favourites-in-the-shape-of-dark-horses

The odds-on-outsiders-surprise-package-favourites-in-the-shape-of-dark-horses were on show again, this time versus Russia and Fabio Capello, trying to overcome his apparent World Cup voodoo. That was the day's first match, it's last saw USMNT face Portugal in an entertaining tie. However, the most exciting game of the day was sandwiched between these two matches, as Algeria and South Korea finally created the 'Random Goalfest' that I'd been falsely predicting would happen in games previous.

Capello either very sad or asleep.

The goal glut begun with a long ball over the Korean defence, which relied on Islan Slimani's pace to make the pass involved a good one. Latching onto the bouncing ball and emerging in between two opposition defenders, he opened the scoring on 26 minutes, lifting the ball ever so slightly over the goalkeeper's noggin. The lead was doubled when the same keeper made an abysmal decision to jump into the air and wait, to attempt to receive a corner. Halliche interrupted the goalie's plan, and headed Algeria into a two-nil lead. Rattled by this sudden collapse, South Korea's defence struggled to recover and dealt nervously with any long balls were fired towards them, and a third goal was conceded as the result of another failure to make a clearance, Slimani's composed pass and Djabou's finish. 3-0 at half time.

Algeria cruising, like the classic aeroplane celebration above

The general conception at the interval was that South Korea would need an early goal, similar to Liverpool vs AC Milan, Istanbul, 2005, which I've only mentioned once already in these Wolrd Cup blogs. And an early goal did come, the highly rated but so far ineffective, Son Heung-min was fortunate to control the ball on the back of head/neck/back, before beating his marker and applying a precise finish, through the legs of M'Bohli in the Algerian goal. Comeback on?

Nope. 12 minutes later, the three-goal cushion, in fact more like a three-goal barricade, was restored. Brahimi played a one-two to open the Korea defence, which had only been on the latch anyway, before rounding off the goal of the game with a tidy finish. But the fun wasn't over there, as Koo Ja-Cheol scrambled another goal over the line to return the deficit to two goals, and promote this game from a five-goal affair, to a six-goal thriller. #RandomGoalfest.

Taking plaudits for the Goalfest.

Other than the conceding of a penalty, Belgium's second match of their group campaign was etchings similar to their first, as they struggled to find any real rhythm in their play, and only advice from the punditry on show was to 'get Eden Hazard on the ball more.' Yet even getting the Chelsea player on the ball more was unlikely to liven this game up, with the slow tempo and frequent mistakes being greeted with boos and whistles from the neutral Brazilians in the crowd, spoilt by the vast amount entertaining football that has been in offer up until now. 

Comparisons with this fixture could be made with England versus USA in 2010, Algeria against England in 2010, and the 2010 meeting of England and Slovenia. And what do you know? Capello happened to be involved in all three of those dull sporting events. As well as Brazilian boo-boys, there was also the occasional sleeper in the crowd, caught delightfully by TV cameras.

The saviour of Belguim, and the game of football, came in the shape of 19 year old, Divock Origi, on as a sub for the again disappointing, and angry on the bench, Romelu Lukaku, who like the rest of his team, has failed to live up to pre-tournament expectations. Origi's goal came in the 88th minute, with the number seventeen applying the finish to Hazard's pull back, revelling in the tactical genius that was to 'get Hazard on the ball... more.'

"...and then they, give you the ball more."

The United States of America or the USMNT as they're referred to when it comes to 'soccer,' met Portugal on the back of their damaging defeat to Germany. However, it was the morally damaged side who took the lead, through a certain tricky winger, once of Sporting Lisbon, and one of the true footballing superstars of our generation; Nani. If you thought it was Ronaldo I wouldn't be surprised as Phil Neville in the BBC studio claims, there is little in terms of ability between the pair, just one of his baffling opinions he offered during coverage of the game. 

There were more strange goings on in the stadium, Clint Dempsey, a player who seemed to be past his prime about two years ago, was leading the States brilliantly up front, playing with youth behind his years, and a broken nose. He was the only one with a facial injury, Football Hipster God, Raul Meireles injured his exquisite beard in a collision with the dreadlocked Beckerman.

#BeardProblems

After half-time, an even game in statistics came an even game on the scoreboard, as a powerful shot from the alliteratingly named, Jermaine Jones beat Beto in Portugal's goal, who was favoured to the awful Rui Patricio. Then, further pain for Portugal and their captain who seemed to be having a bad day at the office/football stadium in Manaus, Brazil. Somewhat of a scramble in the box, with shots and blocks exchanging blows, eventually found Clint Dempsey's stars and stripes covered chest, and rolled over the line to send all of America, or at least Chicago, into scenes of elation.

Chicago thinks soccer rules

The lead held until seconds left, a lead which would've guaranteed American qualification if it had lasted those extra moments. Cristiano Ronaldo was allowed ample time and space on the right hand flank, to produce a flash of brilliance when his team needed it most, similar to Messi, although less obviously spectacular. CR7 as he's referred to for merchandise and branding reasons, whipped in a perfect cross for Varela, who was left with a simple header thanks to the quality of the ball, Beckham-esque. A point for each team leaves USA needing a draw at least against Coach Klinsmann's fellow Germans, whereas Portugal will need a victory against Ghana and US defeat to make Ronaldo's World Cup dreams come true in movie style fashion.

Day 10; Messi and the Power Horse

Iran versus Argentina was either going to be a five nil victory for the favourites with a Messi hat-trick, or a tedious affair of attack against defence where commenators frequently state that it's going to require 'something special' to make the breakthrough, and "Messi is the man provide that." Predictions for the Germany-Ghana fixture didn't offer an alternative to a win for the overwhelming favourites, unless of course it was the opinion of a Ghana fan revelling in the spotlight of a BBC camera. Aside from passionate predictions of pedestrians, the BBC's coverage contained montages of the 100 World Cup goals Germany have scored in their history, whilst the closest thing to a Mercedes advert that the channel could possibly air accompanied it, to highlight the mechanic-like efficiency of the Germans down the years, further evidence of the perception that they were incapable of slipping up against a Ghana team, cruelly robbed of a point by an over dramatic late winner by USA. Also to mention in this long winded introduction, is Nigeria versus Bosnia, the late night football for those with no Saturday night plans.

As mentioned previously, Iran and Argentina's meeting could go two ways, and unfortunately it went in the direction of a tedious match. Argentina unsurprisingly had the majority of possession, but as we often see, this does not mean it's easy to break sides down, especially sides as compact as the passengers on the London Underground between the hours of 8 and 9, or Iran.

Carlos Queiroz's team had all ready shut out Nigeria in the dullest game of the competition to date, and unless the listed after 'something special' occurred, were in danger of doing the same to an attacking Argentina side boasting, Aguero, Higuain, Di Maria, as well as Lionel Messi, longing to Maradona this World Cup. However his side lacked a cutting edge or a turn of pace that is so hard to simply conjure up when the opposition sit back so patiently, with a suction-tight midfield and defence begin the ball.

In fairness to Iran, they attempted to counter on occasion, with the pace of Dejagah allowing them to trouble the Argentina back four, committed to helping the attack. The game could've been very different if the referee had awared a deceivingly stone wall penalty, for Zabaleta's connecting with Dejagah, rather than ball. Iran also had other attempts on goal, but Romero in the Argentine goal rejected what would've been the most famous goal in Iran's football history, eclipsing those in the political match-up with USA in 1998.

But the ball still spent many more minutes up the other end of the field, eluding the goal on several occasions. The minutes ticked on and on, past 80 minutes, 90 minutes and into injury time as the game looked set to supply another victory/draw for the bus parkers, until...

Messi finally gets it as his feet, on the right of the box, skips past a defender like he does with such ease, almost as if he places his palm on the opposition's forehead with a stretched out arm, making it embarrassingly impossible for them to tackle him. Then he didn't release or striker, more like stroked a frighteningly accurate shot which curled into the top corner. 1 nil to Argentina, qualification confirmed and a possibly crucial moment in the tournament if Messi is to push on make this World Cup his own.

Germany's expected display of efficiency, ruthlessness and other words of German connotations aired next. The first half, and second half for that matter, was an even contest though. The low-socked and seemingly but surely not actually, shinpad-less goal scoring machine that is Thomas Müller went close with a sliding effort in the first half, before Muntari unlike Messi, did release a powerful left footed strike, which Neuer palmed away. 

But 'Ze Germanz,' to quote Lock Stock, in an attempt to show you all how much of a geezer I am, did take the lead. Müller, whose name I love using the 'ü' for, turned provider as he crossed in the assist for Mario Gotze to score a """""""header."""""""

Then, an outstanding game of World Cup football emerged, yet again in this remarkable, watchable tournament that has been worth all the late nights and early mornings with Adrian Chiles thus far. Andre Ayew did actually cleanly connect with a header to unexpectedly equalise for Ghana. And if the equaliser was unexpected, their next goal must've caused an astute stress reaction among the public, better known as 'shock.' Asamoah Gyan, formerly of Sunderland, now of Al Ain in the Arabian Gulf League, scoring goals and many Arabian dollars, put Ghana a goal ahead with a composed finish and composed enough celebration, to carry out a dance for everyone to enjoy. Everyone except Germany.

Typically though, they cut the joy short with a monumental goal from Miroslav Klose, who equalised Ronaldo's record of 15 World Cup goals. Whilst his goals may not possess some of the flair and brilliance of the Brazilian legend's, and his trademark front flip celebration may not now reach the full 360 degrees, it's hard to deny what an immense goal scorer Klose has been, as well as being an easy man to build puns off. In the end, a draw was if not arguably, at least a welcomed result for spectators not holding German citizenship, bar Kevin-Prince Boateng who played for Ghana against brother, Jerome. However, Germany did move KLOSE to the last sixteen.

IN OTHER NEWS...

A day of games involving clear favourites was rounded off with the unpredictable meeting of Bosnia and Nigeria. The European side impressed against Argentina in their opener, although defeated, whereas Nigeria, seen by many as Africa's best hope of success, disappointed against Iran.

The loser of the game would be eliminated, and this created a nervy atmosphere. So nervy and scary, that Bosnia's main man, Edin Dzeko appeared to be hiding, seeing almost none of the ball in the first half and not buying tickets for raffles he could well of won.

One man gambling, once on a transfer to QPR being completed, now in Bosnian penalty boxes, was Peter Odemwingie, who provided a finish to Emineke's great work down the right, displaying pace and power and good composure to find his team-mate. The assister came in for praise from Martin Keown, who confused the clichès; 'Work-horse' and 'power-house,' to describe Emineke as a 'POWER-HORSE,' which I can only imagine if some kind of super-powered horse, possibly what an ordinary horse would evolve into should it be a Pokèmon with adequate training.

Back out the studio and onto the pitch, Dzeko did appear, but only to miss chances that could've saved his country's World Cup dreams. Instead, Bosnia's debut in the tournament will expire after their final group game.

Day 9; Costa Rica qualify, England do not.

Let's not dwell on it any longer, I did that in Day 8, let's just move on enjoy the rest of the tournament as a neutral, knowing whatever the result of any game you witness as of now, is unable to leave you feeling like you've been punched in the heart. Day 9 was the day that Costa Rica, expected whipping boys of group D and faced with possibly the toughest group considering they were drawn against three former world champions (albeit one of them being England), have qualified for the knockout stages - with a game to spare.

With either lots of hard work and determination, or some good photoshop-ing, we could make this the England team.

On the back of their Joel Campbell inspired victory against Uruguay, they have produced an even bigger upsetting of the odds, and many England fans. Italy, a team most praised heavily after they defeated us, including the coolest man in football, and the man who thinks he's the coolest man in football (Pirlo and Balotelli, decide on which description is meant for each player depending on your mental age), were left waving their hands around in despair, like Italians do with every other emotion.

Far from a Fulham legend, Bryan Ruiz, scored the unscripted first half goal that along with an OCD level of defensive organisation, secured a historic victory for the football crazy nation. The result now means Uruguay must play their second 'cup final' in as many games, as the winner of themselves and Italy will qualify for the second round, whilst the loser will be on the plane home with Elimination Airways™. Whether or not Uruguay achieve a double of cliché cups will surely depend on which key players perform in that fixture. Currently topping my list of swaggy midfielders, ahead of Xabi Alonso and the retired, Clarence Seedorf, is Andrea Pirlo, and if he gets to caress the ball enough you'd expect the Azzurri to qualify. However, as 'End of England's World Cup' montages on BBC and ITV will show us, Luis Suarez is more than capable of punishing opposition, and he'll have an extra couple of percent to add to his 75% fitness which he tore up our dreams with.

Ruiz indirectly sinking England

Apologies to the many Costa Ricans who'll read this, and be annoyed that I've barely touched on just how good they were, and to satisfy my Central American fan base, I will say this - they seem to have a fair few useful players in amongst their rigid structure. Christian Bolanos, or 'the matey with the hair band,' is the most hard working number seven I've seen since Beckham versus Greece, and the 'Pacey Joel Campbell' (his full name) could have a role to play at Arsenal next season, or more realistically, a hit and miss loan spell at a relegation battling Premier League side. How they'll do in the knockout rounds is anyone's guess, I'm going for one more upset, then a demolishing at the hands of Brazil in the quarter finals.

The prime time World Cup viewing spot was filled by France against Switzerland, which was surely a foregone conclusion considering the mighty Switzerland are ranked sixth in the world, and minnows France are only 17th. Yet against all odds, France put in arguably the performance on the tournament so far, rivaled  only Holland's thrashing of Spain. Giroud met Valbuena's corner with his well groomed head to put them a goal up, before Matuidi raced through and double the lead a minute later. Benzema, France's talisman in the absence of many, won and missed a penalty, but his embarrassment was spared as Cabaye kindly took the negative attention off of his teammate by missing the rebound which looked much easier than the task of scoring from 12 yards.

If you thought the penalty miss would spur Switzerland on, you were wrong. The minuscule Valbuena added a third, before Benzema redeemed his misery from the spot to score his third of tournament. One of Newcastle's many French-Geordie contingent added the fifth goal in the shape of Moussa Sissoko, to create a result which in spite of all my earlier sarcasm, was actually a shock, as France picked apart a Swiss team that is highly thought of, not just by FIFA. A pair of consolation goals offered some hope for Switzerland in their remaining group game, but they were fortunate not to concede a sixth as Benzema smashed the ball home just after the final whistle, something which could come back into the spotlight should Benzema narrowly lose out on the Golden Boot.

Minuscule Valbuena. 

AND FINALLY...

Ecuador met bad boys Honduras in the day's final game, in a somewhat entertaining affair. The South American style of the side lead by Antonio Valencia, in the light of his signing of a new contract at Manchester United, was up against an extremely physical side, to the point of making the audience at home wince, with the help of super slo-mo replays highlighting the force of tackles on show. Standout performances and hairstyles were present, with Bernárdez, the blonde-topped centre-back who looked clumsy in his own half and a threat in the other. Collapsing to his knees instead of heading the ball, he conceded a comical corner when the ball plummeted onto his knees and out of touch. However, on the attacking front, the big man stood 15 yards away from a free-kick, giving himself a Roberto Carlos-like run up. The ball seemed destined for Row Z, especially in the light of his earlier display of a simple lack of technical ability. Yet his strike of the ball was clean and accurate, as well as dangerously powerful, as it more than tested the Ecuadorian(?) goalkeeper. 

The keeper in question was beaten though, Kevin Costly latched onto to a long ball that would make Sam Allardyce and Tony Pulis weak at the knees, before the striker, literally chomping at the bit (of blue plastic he had in his mouth for some reason), he drilled a left footed effort home. 

Chomping at the bit of plastic, which must infuriate health and safety lovers.

Joy for Honduras, who before scoring only seemed to be capable of very few emotions, including angry and aggressive. But their joy sooned retracted into much more negative emotives, as Enner Valencia, no relation to Antonio Valencia in family terms or skill, turned the game on its head. First the in-form striker equalised with a poachers effort from a shot-turned-deflected-cross, before a second half winner via his head from a fairly simple set-piece, which was met with poor defending not for the first time in this tournament.

Being a South American side, the victory created yet another atmosphere that would make a fraction of the £800 flight price to Brazil, somewhat viable for any Englishman considering making the trip to Brazil.

Day 8; Summary mixed with live commentary of Italy vs Costa Rica

For the optimists among us, of which I'm embarrassed to say, I am one, it really really hurts. And what's perhaps even more painful is, it's not over yet. We're not technically eliminated as I begin to write this piece, watching the Italy vs Costa Rica game on which our fate depends, meaning there'll probably be more sadness to come, especially for those of us, again like myself, who still unfortunately believe.

Answers to why we have failed to deliver, yet again, cover a wide range of areas, varying from embodied ignorance in pubs saying 'coz we're shit', to the big-picture lookers, who point their fingers towards improving the English game at grass-roots level. But it's what happens on top of the grass that matters, as improving funding and level of coaching in the sport isn't going to make Johnson-Cahill-Jagielka-Baines a strong, well organised, capable back four. Whilst it may improve our back four, or even our whole squad in the future, hopefully in time for the 2052 World Cup, which will be played on Mars as the world's top players attempt to deal with the humidity and also lack of gravity, more short term fixes are surely available.

Day 7; Two shocks: World Champions are knocked out and Cahill scores with feet

The first of four footbally festival fantastic weeks has expired, and rather than be sad that a week has already gone, I can rest easy as there's still so long left, and so much has happened. Particularly on this, day 7, where there was so much to see that Sky Sports must be kicking themselves at not having the TV rights to the tournament, now more than ever, as they continue to broadcast mere photos of all the action.

Today saw without any doubt from mine or Radio 5 Live's Robbie Savage's mind, the best goal of the tournament so far. As well as the biggest shock yet, and probably the worst team performance so far as well, as Cameroon collapsed to Croatia.

Day 4; Goal-line Technology has Arrived, and so has Messi.

The dastardly football villain, Sepp Blatter, plots his plan to ruin the game.

Despite everything that has happened already, and all the words I've typed into iPad, iPhone and laptop along the way, only 4 whole days of World Cup action have passed. Day 4 produced a couple of firsts however, the loveable, inevitable, Hollywood-style, last minute winner made it's World Cup 2014 debut, and may there be many more. Perhaps something which has been strangely more anticipated than even injury time-tastic goals, is something we've all been waiting for for decades. The Goal-line Technology we've pined for has finally arrived and lifted football into the 21st Century, despite the best efforts of ultimate football villain, and hopefully soon to be 'disgraced Former FIFA President', rather than simply, FIFA President, Sepp Blatter.

The games providing such action were a climatised Ecuador, versus a Switzerland team, which although should be respected for their recent record in tournaments, and confidence in their own ability to field a team of almost a full eleven with questionable hairstyles, surely don't justify their FIFA ranking of being the sixth best team in the world. Also today was France against Honduras, a side whose physical/psychotic play has seen them receive some negative attention, in a game which was fittingly narrated by Johnathan Pearce, a man no stranger to violence thanks to his experience of providing vocal input to the work of real sporting bad boys; Sir Killalot and Sergeant Bash from Robot Wars. So unsurprisingly he wasn't phased by the likes of Wilson Palacios. The 11pm game was billed as 'Messi in the Maracana,' in spite of the fact 21 other professional footballers were also on the pitch situated in Brazil's most historic stadium as Argentina met Bosnia and Herzegovina, World Cup debutants.

Questionable hairstyles.

The first game's deadlock was unpicked by Ecuador, as a free-kick from out wide was warmly welcomed into the box by some of the worst set-piece defending seen since the dawn of time, when dinosaurs used to whip in free-kicks towards the heads of Brontosaurus'. The scorer was Enner Valencia, not to be confused with the imbecile who threatened to throttle little 19 year-old Raheem Sterling for making a fair tackle against himself, the 28 year old, somewhat of a powerhouse, Antonio Valencia, twice his width... tosser.

At half-time, Switzerland, the team who FIFA rate as factually and officially better than England, Italy and Netherlands, trailed Ecuador, a team who FIFA rate as factually and officially worse than Algeria and Slovenia and just one place above Scotland. But the combination of a classic super-sub and some of the worst set-piece defending since Jesus Christ, playing as an old fashion number 9, used to punish the poor zonal marking system of Bethlehem FC in 27 AD, lead to an equaliser off the head of the super-sub in question, Mehmedi. 

Then an open game emerged, the Swiss, boosted by nicking a goal back were using their momentum to take all three points which they and of course, FIFA, would've expected them to take. Whilst Ecuador were angered by losing their hard fought lead, and backed by many of their own fans which filled the stadium, creating another spectacular South Anerican atmosphere for an end to end game to occur in. And it was end to end until the very last minute, the 93rd to be precise. On as a sub, fresh legged tosser, Antonio Valencia broke into space out wide and lead a final attacking surge for his side, only for it eventually to breakdown as a result of a slide tackle ever so pleasing to the eye, from Behrami. The former West Ham underperformer, then broke with the ball himself, prancing from his own half to the next, going to ground after being fouled then tumbling back onto his feet and continuing with help of superb refereeing and text-book double hand pointing to signal to play on from the official, then play went wide, to the byline, where it was pulled back for the second #SuperSub of the game to become a national hero; Haris Seferović. Shades of the 'Tardelli Scream' of 1982 in the celebration, and possibly the odd goosebump for football fans onlooking.

France-Honduras commenced next, and with a tournament record of such inconsistency, the pressure and eyes, were on the French, and specifically their latest starlet, Paul Pogba. The ex-United midfielder must be keen to not just prove Sir Alex Ferguson how wrong he was to sell him, but also to prove that there's more to his game than just outrageous long shots that find their way onto Vine, accompanied with house or trap music that drops as the Juventus midfielder connects with the ball.

Pogba was fortunate not to be dismissed early on, fed up of being trampled on by Palacios over and over again, he appeared to lash out at the Stoke City player, who flew himself into the air and back down to earth again, so hard that a stretcher was called. Both escaped red, seeing yellow, but when Palacios pushed over the young midfielder inside the box, he was leaving the pitch again, this time without a stretcher in sight, as he saw and second yelp and red in a quick flash from the referee. Benzema netted the penalty, and also France's third goal in the second half, but it was the second goal of the game that had everyone's bums off their seat, and fingers tapping smart phones with Twitter apps open. GOAL-LINE TECHNOLOGY HAD ARRIVED. When Benzema's effort hit the inside of the post and trickled back out, the Hondurans must've thought they'd got away with conceding a goal which would surely fly open the floodgates. Yet some incapable ball collecting from their goalkeeper meant the ball actually re-trickled back over the line, just. OR DID IT!? Yes. It did, (See picture.) and France went on to win 3-0.

When 11pm arrived it was apparently the time that seemingly 'everyone', including allegedly, me, you, your mum, your cousin and Doreen next door, had been waiting for. It was time for Messi, and a wide range of other world class players, many of which are Champions League, Premier League and La Liga winners, but only Messi and Messi and Messi, Messi, Messi, Messi to the point where just hearing the word Messi didn't even sound like a word anymore, more of a noise that everyone was so obsessed with, in action. But in action he wasn't, not in the first half at all. Despite Argentina gaining an early lead from this tournament's early Golden Boot contender, 'Own Goal,' Messi struggled to manipulate the game like the billion watching had expected. Furthermore, many seemed to have written off Bosnia & Herzegovina before a ball was kicked, on a basis I can only imagine was due to people not being able to pronounce the latter part of their name. They're a nation that has been crippled by war after war, and less than 25 years old as an idependent nation, yet have already risen to 21st in FIFA's rankings, not that means too much, but they also boast top Premier League talent in Asmir Begovic and Edin Dzeko. But most impressive of all was Miralem Pjanic, who lovers of Football Manager and FIFA Career Modes, will know, is a class act. (90+ Overall potential ability on FIF/ 'leading star for most Premier League sides' according to scouts on FM.) His making of play, more commonly known as playmaking, caused an Argentina defence several problems before half time changes were made. Two half time changes involved personnel, as Higuain and Gago, who seem to do everything together, apart from excel at Real Madrid, entered The Fray.

See, he's decent. FM said so.

This gave Argentina a little more balance, and most importantly, allowed Messi to shine. A classic one-two and change of pace gave him space to unleash a trademark strike which beat Stoke City's Asmir Begovic, who like teammate, Wilson Palacios, wasn't enjoying World Cup 2014 as of yet. The so-called minnows did pull a goal back though, a goal which their play defintely deserved and they should go into their next fixture with confidence. The headlines, spotlight, limelight, flashlights, ALL OF THE LIGHTS, were on Messi however, as he helped his much favoured Argentines get off to a winning start, even if their performance left much to be desired.

This is what a man looks like whose just doubled his career tally of World Cup goals with one swift left-foot kick.

Day 6; Capello cursed by calamitous 'keeping?

The sixth day of these World Cup finals saw the first round of group stage fixtures surpass, and the second begin, meaning that the hosts were once again in action, this time against Mexico, lead by their manager, Miguel Herrera who not only appeared to be looking for a point from the Brazilians, but also looking for a reason as to why he doesn't have a neck.

Where is it? He's just all chin and face.

Day 5; Not even Shola Ameobi could break down the Iran defence.

Germany versus Portugal sounds like a quarter-final that goes to extra-time, then penalties thanks to a late equaliser from Miroslav Klose, who consequently beats Ronaldo's record of most World Cup goals, and then Germany go onto win the shootout and reduce Cristiano Ronaldo to tears. But it's not, it's the opening match of Group G in the 2014 World Cup. More traditional sounding group games of this date were USA vs Ghana and Iran vs Nigeria - a match I originally said had 'Random Goalfest' written all over it. How disgustingly wrong I was.

Day 3; Saturday's World Cup Marathon.

Saturday 14th July has been a date football fans have eagerly anticipated ever since FIFA inevitably dragged out the group stage draw which could easily be carried out in about six minutes by a man on a computer, then forwarding a print screen of the draw to KingBlatter@FIFAHotmail.com. But nonetheless, a schedule was born, and the World Cup Gods deemed this Saturday to have the honour of hosting a 'footballathon', with four consecutive matches hot potato-ing across newly erected studios along the Copacabana beach. One of which containing Gary Lineker, and the other sporting a chipped window, where a Brazillian protestor tried to throw a rock at Adrian Chiles' gargantuan head on the opening night. The result of all this was a heavenly TV listing.

(Via @FootballCliches)

When Greenwich Mean Time +1 hit 5pm, the football commenced as renowned good defenders, Greece, met an attacking Falcao-less Colombia. Praised pre-game for such a well organised defensive unit, Greece defended poorly. Perhaps, like me, they were still in shock at how they won Euro 2004, standing still with open-wide mouths instead of marking and pressing and all that defence-y stuff, as Colombia breached the Greek 'unit' on three occasions. This resulted in arguably the best celebration of the tournament thus far, enjoy it now before it appears on Twitter via the 'Sport Bible', saying something like 'When you score in the last minute on FIFA', or 'when you see your mate fingering a bird' or maybe with something even more 'hashtag LAD' than that. 

'WHEN YOU'RE DRINKING BEER AND PLAYING FIFA AND ENJOYING SOME CASUAL SEXISM AND BEING A MASSIVE #LAD.' http://vine.co/v/MIZD3PqJOBt

The next leg of the journey was the conclusion of the Will-Luis-Suarez-play-saga (until Uruguay vs England anyway, when it will evolve from a saga to Will-Luis-Suarez-play-mania.), also known as Uruguay versus Costa Rica. A nation whose most recognisable personality is former Derby striker, Paolo Wanchope, Costa Rica were expected to be the whipping boys of group D, an expectation they carried up til the second half of this match, as they trailed a Uruguay side with a Suarez-shaped hole in their strike force all the way up til the 54th minute. Arsenal's Joel Campbell equalised for the CONCACAF nation, who didn't just go on to upset the odds, but angered them greatly, beating the 2010 semi-finalists 3-1 and removing their whipping boys tag. The odds weren't the only things that were upset though, so was Uruguay full-back Maxi Pereira, whose frustration spilled all the way into his legs, as he kicked out at Joel Campbell and in exchange was given a red card in the 94th minute of the game. Whether or not any Uruguayans cracked the 'we only had ten men excuse' as a joke is unknown, but I hope someone did just to lighten the mood.

Then, it was finally time. England. Italy. Pirlo. Gerrard. Balotelli. Rooney. But no Gigi Buffon. The legendary Italian keeper and captain was ruled out during the outrageously long time we all had to wait for the game, as a result of the revoltingly late kick-off time. A kick-off time which incidently meant that millions of fans in England were sure to be heavily intoxicated before the national anthems, or even BBC's montage-heavy coverage, had begun.

3 minutes in and already there was euphoria. Raheem Sterling exploded into the World Cup with a pacey dribble and powerful shot which crashed into the net from some distance. We all cheered, hugged, screamed, spilt drinks and for a split second maybe even envisioned Steven Gerrard lifting the World Cup on July 13th. But it actually went just wide, it was all an illusion. A nation used to holding it's breath, all exhaled a sigh simultaneously, likely to have made CO2 emissions rise.

Possibly both the most unfunny, yet most factual meme of all time.

But our bright start continued, Welbeck, Rooney, Sterling and Sturridge's movement was making all Italians a little nervous. All Italians except Andrea Pirlo, for he is incapable of such an emotion. But it still wasn't enough, Marchisio's long range drive zipped across the over fertilised, green-painted grass of Manaus, and past Joe Hart. Not as good a Sterling's goal earlier, but definitely impressive. Doom and gloom again for England. Same old same old. Until less than two minutes later when Sturridge equalised, an underrated through ball from Sterling, before an excellent left-footed cross from the left wing from Wayne Rooney who 'is rubbish at left wing', found the England number 9 in the middle whose carefully controlled right-footed half volley triggered cheers, hugs, screams and spilt drinks, and on this occasion, a broken ankle for the over-celebrating physio within the England ranks. A World Cup first.

After the dancing had stopped and ambulance called, play resumed, and some weathering of storms was required. Our post was struck, and Balotelli lifted a chip over Joe Hart with a ridiculous amount of swag, which Jagielka did well to clear before Goal Line Technology was triggered. But in the second half, an Italian-affected-ball did cross the line, this time from the unmistakable head of Balotelli. I don't think anyone will ever know fully what's going on inside the realms of Mario's head, I like to think it's filled with visions of psychadellic flowers and peace signs, and that he sees a parallel universe in which it's acceptable to set off fireworks indoors, but whatever occurs inside his head is insignificant, it was the outside of his head which the Brazuca football connected with, before tucking itself into the England goal.

As usual with England a variety of questions and debates erupted after the result, one which was leaving the lips of many and still is, is the 'should Wayne Rooney start debacle,' a query which could soon rival other England classics such as 'how to solve our left-sided problem' and 'whether or not Gerrard and Lampard can play together.' I agree that he had to start versus Italy, I think after all, he deserved at least one more chance before the gravitational pull of the bench should be released onto him, and he didn't play too bad either. But defensively, he didn't protect Leighton Baines enough. And this, added to that miss in the second half, multiplied by possibly the worst corner ever taken by someone other than Iago Aspas, equals a less than impressive performance on the whole, and possible dropping.

For anyone with some football enthusiasm still left in them before bed time, there was still Ivory Coast vs Japan, and a sense of relief as we could sink back into our chairs and enjoy the wonders of being a neutral again. Keisuke Honda tuned his machine like left-foot, seemingly incapable of error, and fired Japan into a first half lead, to delight these people, dressed as things... 

It was then the left foot of Ivory Coast left-back, Artur Boka which came to attention. First it was used to curl a free-kick close, then to hit a longe-range effort so hard, when it was saved by the Japan keeper, a tremendous slapping noise echoed around all of Brazil.

The Africans hit back however, the introduction of their God-like figure, Didier Drogba seemed to lift them mentally, if not physically. Two excellent crosses were delivered from the right wing, and both met with goal-scoring headers, the first of the head of Swansea's Wilfried Bony, and the second off the enormous forehead of Gervinho, sparking more jubilant celebrations. A strong finish in the final straight, as we dragged ourselves over the line and into bed, after this football marathon, with a final time of about 12 hours.

Gervinho slides over the line on his knees, to complete the World Cup Marathon of 2014