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

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.