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

Day 2; OMG BEST WORLD CUP EVA :3

As if Neymar actually performing in real life rather than just in YouTube montages wasn't already a great enough start to the World Cup finals, now Matchday 2 has provided us with 3 games back to back and each of them as exciting as this EFFING COOL LIGHTNING STORM.

9-to-5ers would've been likely to miss the officials deprive former Barcelona, Spurs and Football Manager 2009 legend, Giovanni Dos Santos scoring two legitimate goals in the first half. But irony and justice were in tandem as Dos Santos broke through for a third time, this time onside, only to see his effort saved by Charles Itandje of Cameroon, before Oribe Peralta scored the rebound with the blessings of the Goal Line Technology™, despite making the net bulge like Marcelo's own-goal, before he. Although goals were at the minimum for a non 'bore draw,' controversy and drama were at a high, making this a perfect warm up for the night's main event, a replay of the 2010 World Cup Final; Netherlands vs Spain, including both Nigel de Jong and Xabi Alonso, stars of the infamous De Jong Kung-Fu kick. 

If Tiki-taka died when Real Madrid counter-attacked themselves to a borderline rout against Bayern Munich earlier this year, then Netherlands last night arrived at it's funeral and danced joyfully on it's grave, after only initially being invited to 'say a few words.' When Alonso Alonso'd home a penalty to put Spain, winner of the last three major international tournaments, one-nil to the good, the odds on the Dutch to come back and win so emphatically would've sent Ray Whinstone into a fit of insanity, before bellowing; "Have a bang on that."

But come-back-and-win-so-emphatically, they did. Shades of 'Total Football' crept into the stadium in Salvador as first, Robin van Persie soared through the air for what looked like about 3 minutes, whilst looping a header over Iker Casillas to score possibly the most aesthically pleasing goal of the tournament thus far, tainted only by the high-five on the touchline with manager, Louis van Gaal as the pair (probably) screamed; "Yaaaaay! Manchester United!" and hence making me cringe until all I could see was the top of my cheeks and the bottom of my eyebrows.

But what developed was far from cringeworthy, Robben, De Vrij, Van Persie again and Robben again, in that order, completed a score line which reminded me of England's 5-1 victory over Germany back in 2001, (which I'm sure is still available on DVD to this very day), except without John Motson or Emile Heskey. It could've been more than five on this occasion though, Van Persie sent the crossbar into rattle-mode with a ridiculous right foot volley, and Robben connected so sweet with a left footed volley later on in the game that it must've left sugar or some kind of sherbet on Casillas' over-worked goalie gloves. 5-1 did do Netherlands enough justice however, playing quick, exciting, direct yet skilful football, everything which International football apparently isn't.

Entertainment between the 8 o'clock and 11 o'clock fixture was provided by previews of England vs Italy, and best of all, footage of Roy Hodgson walking around Manaus in a pair of Air Max. You didn't notice? Twitter did. 

To conclude such a pleasing day of Workd Cup antics was a Tim Cahill's forehead inspired, Australia, who took on the official Football Hipster's Dark Horse Choice of the 2014 FIFA World Cup, Chile. The team of young Socceroos, or Joeys if you prefer, were torn apart early on with Alexis Sanchez forcing one over the line aided by yet more confirmation with the Goal Line Technology, before he slid an assist in the direction of Valdivia. But Cahill, who I feel should wear his captains armband around his head, predictably, headered Australia back into the match to set up a fairly even contest. Cahill went close to equalising later on, again deeming his feet surplus to requirements and heading an effort close. Technology on the Goal Line again tried to steal the show, an excellent goal line clearance by Wilkinson went through thorough checking, before it was confirmed that it was in fact a goal line clearance, and not an attempt in vain to prevent Vargas from increasing Chile's lead. 

But succeeding in trying to get the ball over the line in the Australian goal eventually occurred once more, as Jean Beausejour drilled a left footed strike into the bottom corner from the vicinity of the box. The Wigan player's goal couldn't detract attention from Alexis Sanchez however, who was enthralling on the ball and covered as much ground as the lightning emoji on Twitter, last night. 

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

Day 1; Oscar Playing in the Shadows

The waiting and waiting and waiting and various 'I can't wait for the Wolrd Cup' conversations are over. A victory and brace from the ultimate and literal 'poster boy' of this 20th World Cup finals, was a fairly perfect start for the hosts, and one almost capable of making us forget the horrors of the opening ceremony, where Pitbull, the man who smears his lack of talent on 99% of pop music and adds a 'feat. Pitbull' to it's title, was undoubtedly outshone by people dressed as shrubbery. 

But the dancing trees weren't the only things casting a shadow for others to perform in, Neymar, metaphorically photosynthesising in the rays of the so called lime light, casted the perfect shadow for Oscar to perform in. Chiles said before the show, 'he doesn't even look old enough to have his own paper round,' and the Chelsea playmaker's performance was equally unfunny. It was serious, hardworking and at times, majestic. 

Occupying a role behind the front three of Brazil and ahead of Paulinho and Luis Gustavo who guarded the defence, Oscar served as the main outlet for his team in the transition from defence to attack. 

This meant he saw a large helping of the ball, often in wide areas depending on the whereabouts of the 6 foot by 7 foot frame that is Hulk. From these wide areas, his delivery was excellent, cross after cross as he tried to put things on a plate for the fittingly podgy-shaped-Fred to gobble up, and if it wasn't for David Luiz intercepting his Neymar bound cross in the second half, the number 10 would've almost certainly completed a historic hat-trick, and via the spotlight created an even more prominent shadow for Oscar to perform in as the tournament progresses.

The youngster also displayed superb dribbling, something we're often told is a dying art in the game, yet seems to be planning a Come Back Tour 2k14, with Sterling, Barkley, Lallana etc being the up and coming English acts to emerge. Through skill and speed he repeatedly skipped past flat-footed yet tough Croat defenders, but it was a sense of determination and resilency that seemed to give him an extra yard, sometimes two. On more than one occasion he seemed to have been dispossessed, and the attack thus broken down, but before home fans could return their Brazillian buttocks to their newly refurbished seats, he'd regained possession and not only revived the attack, but given it an new lease of life. His goal capped off his evening exquisitely, first he displayed this resiliency in chasing down defenders who did make a Feijoada (Brazillian black beans with smoked meats) out of the clearance, but he then had the skill to gracefully poke the ball past Pletikosa (who I'm pretty sure used to warm a bench at White Hart Lane?) before the oncoming defenders had a chance to curve his enthusiasm with a body check or professional foul. 3-1. Genius. Here we bladdy go World Cup 2014...

                  (Feijoada)

Premier League Month by Month Season Review: August

I'm hoping these posts will be as easily consumable, entertaining and of the same standard of 'Season Summary-ness' as an episode of Premier League Years, except with less nostalgia and Georgie Thompson voice overs. Pundits, newspapers and most predominantly adverts for various Sky Sports Super Sundays told us over and over again that this has been the most exciting season in years, with a mixture of unpredictable games, a relegation battle which felt as if it included every team outside the top four, and a title race which whoever's 'hands it was in', seemed to be never ending.

Tiki-taka is dead.

Real Madrid dancing on Tiki-taka's grave - Allianz Area, 29th April 2014

We were told it's the most beautiful way to play, adored by pundits and fans the world over, as it appeared to be the flick-of-a-wand that magicked Spain's fairy tale happy endings at three international tournaments in a row, as well as supplying Barcelona's domination of La Liga, the Champions League, and of course most importantly, possession.

And we all believed it, at least for a little while. I for one found my self applauding the amount of passes the likes of Busquets were completing, according to Sky Sports' graphics with a little 'courtesy of OptaStats' in the corner. But why? What's so 'beautiful' about various dark haired Spaniards rolling a ball sideways and backwards to each other around two thirds of a football pitch? Was Tiki-taka ever really the breathtaking phenom that drooling pundits such as Redknapp, Neville and random BBC World Cup guests Adebayor and Seedorf made it out to be? I'm starting to think it was just a fancy name for 'pass and move.'

World Cup Song Blueprint

Unless John Barnes gets back in the booth, it really will be another four years of hurt.

Fours years of waiting and excruciatingly boring qualifying and tedious 'battle for plane seats to Brazil friendly matches' are almost over, the World Cup, "The Greatest Show on Earth", is set to return. And if you don't agree that it is in fact, the most brilliant sporting exhibition carried out on our planet, you're probably dangerously insane and think the Super Bowl deserves such a title, or if not even the Super Bowl you must be literally completely-bonkers-pissing-in-yours-socks-and-throwing-them-at-traffic-on-your-way-to-Tesco-to-yell-profanities-at-the-cabbages-mental, and would argue that 'Wrestlemania' deserves such a title.

The overwhelming excitement and even optimism of those sane ones among us, is every time, attempted to be captured by the music industry, and regurgitated into a pop song, more frequently known as 'The World Cup Song' or even a 'Euro's Song' depending on which tournament England are preparing not to be embarrassed whilst taking part in. Barring a rare few (see below), these 2-3 minute-long abundances of noise are usually the demented brain child of people more concerned about making money and selling awful music than England having success at a major tournament, and the result is often a revoltingly cheesy, barely even catchy, Euro-Pop disaster with the odd crowd noise or referee whistle. So, enjoy the rare few which don't abide to this description, before I disgrace some of the worst England World Cup (or Euro's) Songs ever to leave a studio, which should've consulted the "Successful Football Song Blueprint."