Finals Fantasy - the 2006 World Cup blog

Finals Fantasy end of tournament round-up thing - part 4

2006-07-17T23:53:00.000+01:00

What did you make of it, then?

An odd tournament, that. The group stages went up like a house on fire, with games that if not exactly producing many classics at least keyed us up for what was to come, full of attacking play, intrigue, great goals, rank stupidity and edge of the seat stuff. Then the knockouts themselves were an odd mixture of games which contained no attacking impetus whatsoever - whatever England's varying crises, did Portugal make a single move of note in that game? - and a few barnstormers. It's also the most worldly World Cup I can remember, if you see what I mean, as through the expansion in our understanding of the international game's development we knew everything about everyone, which given even the likes of South Korea and Senegal were still larely unaccounted for four years ago is quite something.

Best defensive player

Sorry to be obvious, but Fabio Cannavaro was inspirational at the back, seemingly trying at times to do everyone's job and marshalling the back line with rare authority throughout. A word for Philipp Lahm, though, who nearly missed the tournament through injury but with a driving forward style might now be the world's best left-back.

Best attacking player

What does Miroslav Klose do for 47 months at a time? You never hear of anyone coming in for him or anything special he might do in club football, but he's now in the finals ten goal club. Not the greatest technician in the world, but he's everything you want in a target man and in a tournament where there was a dearth of genuine quality from the much hyped strikers he offered a way forward by looking back. Or something.

Biggest letdown

Ronaldinho. Yes, yes, it's all very well working back to support your team-mates, but that's not what either we wanted or you were best. Also the failure of any of 2002's success story sides to build on their promise and the lack of South American fans willing to go just that little bit too far.

Item you'd track down for the National Football Museum

The Iranian big framed square of carpet! That'd make an interesting conversation piece at dinner parties.

Best pundit

Martin O'Neill was only a late entrant to the BBC ranks, of course, and how we would have missed his flights of fancy that always turn round and eventually make sense (after a fashion) no matter how much waffling has got him back there. He's also dead on when he wants to be succinct. Not a pundit, I know, but how much more proof do we need of Adrian Chiles' offhand brilliance?

Best commentator

The criticism you occasionally hear of the BBC's roster below the Motson/Pearce front line is how nobody can apparently tell the difference between any of them. Well, make the effort, then. Steve Wilson has had his second great World Cup in a row, Simon Brotherton is equally capable if not so enthusiastic, and to prove Network Centre seems to have some sort of vortex around it Guy Mowbray has emerged from commercial telly hell to establish his voice.

Worst pundit

I know they're undergoing a cash crisis, but it's no wonder the BBC managed a record lead in the final head-to-head if ITV seriously believe we here in 2006 still want to hear David Pleat for a whole game. Tactically astute, I agree, but it's the bits around that that grate, although at least he was up on Gareth Southgate's ill-fated attempts at mateyness. Ruud Gullit seemed to be straining his brain trying to think of something of interest to add and often failing, while over in the Berlin studio Leonardo's command of syntax, and everything else, often seemed to desert him. Let's, however, go for Robbie Earle, now into his fifth glorious season of adding nothing to anything.

Worst commentator

It's been fascinating watching the press work themselves into a lather about how Everybody Hates Motson Now, not least that ludicrous statistic about the number of people using the interactive option and thus Turning Motson Off. Yeah, there's a couple of other options on there too, and they're available even when there aren't games on. You'll notice these are the same organisations that don't seem to query ITV's motives as much, even when they're still employing Peter Drury, who as ever was like Barry Davies without the ability to get out of florid mode and into plain commentary.

Main lesson learned about the game over the last month

That there's no such thing as a sure thing (cf Jose Pekerman), that every World Cup is doomed to the biggest international stars flopping drastically, and that actually writing up a load of notes into a coherent structure is difficult.

It's been fun, this, hasn't it?

When I wasn't giving myself eight games to concurrently type up over one of the hottest weekends of the year, yes, it's been fun watching the ideas flow and a group of contributors (who I thank wholeheartedly, and again apologise for keeping indoors during the great heatwave of 2006) come up with brilliant stuff. We didn't get any national press attention, but sod them. While I'm here I should mention my own football blog, which will be relaunched in August unless I can't be bothered.

So, consider this the shutters being brought down on Finals Fantasy, which, it's fair to say has been an experience. Join us, possibly, in 2010. Or 2008.

Credits
Contributors: Adam Keyte, Skif, Matt Sullivan, Simon Tyers, Ben Woolhead
Technical support: Blogger

FINALS FANTASY 2006 - where do they get their energy from?

Finals Fantasy end of tournament round-up thing - part 3

2006-07-13T11:22:00.000+01:00

What did you make of it, then?

Before the tournament, I was more keyed up than I’d been since 1990, when I was flush with the exuberance of youth. There were moments of genius, moments of tedium (which every competition needs for the contrast) and some genuinely bizarre diversions within the coverage. Found myself getting very tense within neutral games, which is always a good sign.

Not the best ever perhaps. but certainly an excellent competition that looked brilliant in terms of the organisation. When we stage it again, lets do it like the Germans. Big tellys in the river, all that.

Best defensive player

Take your pick from the Italians, able to nullify the threat of any irresistible force placed in their way.

Best attacking player

The temptation is to say Zidane, thanks to his inventive, “just mind my face” heart-stopping buller but, as has been noted elsewhere, a single performance already won him the writer’s best player gong above several more deserving Italian types.

Otherwise I liked Carlos Tevez for showing some incredibly neat touches whilst looking like a Sunday morning council-pitch dogger who’s recently suffered retribution for pushing crack on someone else’s patch.

Biggest letdown

Being an underdog kind of guy, would have been nice to see one or two unexpected names in the quarters but the good will out, I guess.

Sepp Blatter still being unable to offer no comment on anything he is ever asked about.

Item you'd track down for the National Football Museum

Dress up 3 mannequins in Otto Pfister’s pub crooner, salmon melt and yacht club touchline get ups.

Carlos Tevez’s head from the shoulders up. Possibly in a big jar.

The soggy digestive found whilst dismantling the BBC’s Berlin studio set. Inside several thickly paned cases, of course.

Best pundit

Yup, it’s got to be Martin O’Neill. Despite the fact he goes down as many blind alleys and explores as much cringeworthy territory as David Pleat with his only-child-that-collects-stamps-and-gets-picked-on-at-school banter, I can’t wait to hear what he’ll come up with next.

Best commentator

I’m in agreement in Ben, Simon Brotherton and Steve Wilson were excellent in the supporting roles. The game Brotherton did with Gavin Peacock early on in the tournament was easily the most impressive pairing in the box.

Worst pundit

Look, a barrel with loads of fish in it. For this and the next section, the ITV crew is far too easy a target, so I shall focus on the few times the Beeb let me down.

The unintentionally funniest, but also revealingly worst punditry moment, it has to be Alan Shearer’s “last 16, it doesn’t get any better than that.” I was just thinking how he was growing into the role when he fires off a reflex cliché without thinking it through.

Also Hansen saying the third place play-off first half was great then changing his mind once O’Neill had grumpily poo-poo’ed the entire affair. The leader has become a follower.

Got a bit bored with Marcel Desailly as the tournament went on too.

Worst commentator

Like I say, I can’t warm to any of the ITV team. On the BBC, Jonathan Pearce yowls out his pre-anthems crib sheet like a wounded seal. Aside from that, I've been fairly happy.

Main lesson learned over the last month

That Willkommen zum Fussball is such a complex German phrase it needs instant translation.

It's been fun, this, hasn't it?

Too right, thanks to my FF colleagues and especially to Simon for putting it together. Writing for this thing certainly allowed me to really delve into the action and, more specifically, the broadcasting of said action, which keeps you attentive as, to be fair, my attention span struggles with televised football. Nothing beats the real thing. Do I ever wish my application for tickets had been one of the lucky ones.

So, Austria-Switzerland 2008, what are we doing? No sleep ‘til the Wankdorf.

Finals Fantasy end of tournament round-up thing - part 2

2006-07-13T01:15:00.000+01:00

What did you make of it, then?

Pace. Power. Precision. Technique. Oh, sorry, just came over all Alan Hansen there...

Well, it was marvellous, wasn't it? In fact, so marvellous that every use of the past tense is making me wince - the World Cup wallchart is staying Blutaked to the fridge for a while yet, at least until I can accept the fact that it really is over.

The consensus amongst pundits and journalists seems to be that (to adapt the tired old cliche) it was a tournament of two halves: the group stages were thrilling, but after that it became as dull as a Southgate co-commentary. There's some truth in that, but knockout games like Argentina v Mexico, Portugal v Holland and the Germany v Italy semi-final were among the very best, while England and France's first two group games were absolutely dire.

Best defensive player

It was a cakewalk for Fabio Cannavaro to claim that title. The Italian skipper was magnificent from first whistle to last, and no-one more deserved to lift the trophy than him. If he does end up following his former manager at Juve Fabio Cappello to the Bernabeu, as is rumoured, then Real Madrid might once again be a force to be reckoned with.

Mention should also be made of Cannavaro's team-mate Gianluca Zambrotta, as adventurous and influential going forwards as he was solid at the back, but the side whose defence collectively most impressed me was Mexico. Matt singled out their captain Rafael Marquez, and certainly his ability to drift effortlessly into midfield and drive his team forward was impressive - but he was only able to do so because Ricardo Osorio is such an accomplished sweeper. He was superb, never flustered or hurried and even himself able to play as a right winger towards the frantic conclusion of the match against Argentina.

Best attacking player

The pundit's / journalist's consensus is right on this one: there were very few attacking players who grasped the opportunity and really shone.

The hyperbole about Zidane before his sending-off in the final was as ludicrous as the debate about whether young Master Rooney deliberately set out to squash Ricardo Carvalho's tomatoes - he might have taken Brazil apart almost single-handedly in the quarter-final, but he was ineffective if not plain rubbish in the first two group games and was suspended for the third. People have short memories. There's no way he should have been named the tournament's best player above Cannavaro, and indeed there were many others more deserving.

So, at the risk of offending Sun readers everywhere, I'll say Cristiano Ronaldo. He might be a whining, preening, diving little winker, but he was by far the most dangerous player on the pitch in the games against England and France.

Biggest letdown

What, other than England's inevitable quarter-final exit on penalties?

It would have to be Argentina. How on earth, with that squad and after that exquisite demolition of Serbia & Montenegro, they didn't walk it is beyond me.

Item you'd track down for the National Football Museum

The collection of splinters gathered from benches in Frankfurt, Nuremberg, Cologne, Stuttgart and Gelsenkirchen by Theo Walcott’s bottom. Or the pause between a Garth Crooks statement-of-supposed-fact and a supposedly-hard-hitting-question. Rather more difficult to lay your hands on, I imagine, would be Frank Lampard's ability to hit a cow's arse with a banjo.

Best pundit

Oh the agony of choice...

Martin O'Neill, hands down. Possibly my favourite moment of the whole tournament was when, after footage of Leonardo showing off his ball skills, Ray Stubbs asked O'Neill if he wanted to join the "Leo love-in". The Irishman responded with a long tongue-in-cheek whinge about him being a very talented and good-looking chap and being "a bit sick of it all", before adding: "He's not the sort of boy you'd want to go to a disco with".

Best commentator

Slim pickings again.

The BBC's lesser lights probably have it - Simon Brotherton and Steve Wilson. Mainly for being informative without being annoyingly obtrusive or grasping with a spectacular lack of dignity for the "clever thing to say".

Worst pundit

Where to start?

Well, the BBC very definitely won this one. Even Ian Wright - a children's TV presenter in another life - failed to grate anywhere near as much as I'd imagined he would, and, having written Leonardo off in the first week, I have to concede he was half-decent. (That said, Mark Lawrenson's off-mic guffaws were increasingly irritating.)

ITV, on the other hand, seemed to have picked wrong 'un after wrong 'un. Jay-Jay Okocha was pretty much comatose, Ally McCoist insisted on prefacing everything he said with "What I like about him is..." and Gareth Southgate could have bored the trousers off Eugene from last year's 'Big Brother' (Don't remember him? It doesn't matter).

David Pleat was obviously in a league of his own when it came to pronunciation and the profligate use of adjectives.

But the award has to go to Sir Terence of Venables, shortly to be on the England staff once again (if rumours are to be believed) in a bid to relive the glory days of ~~1966~~ 1996. His ability to talk nonsense, even when accompanied by demonstrative hand gestures, was impressive. He seemed to have been taking his cue from the one and only Sir Bobby Robson, managing to lose track of what he was saying not only within a sentence but within a clause.

Worst commentator

Jon Champion proved himself the master of overstatement (and thereby fully justified Des Lynam's criticism of him), while Jonathan Pearce disappointed by repeatedly grasping for the crutch of endless statistics and even Motty appeared to have lost the plot, continually getting players' names wrong and, in the France v Portugal semi-final, covering up comments about Ronaldo's diving and Carvalho's being "involved in the Rooney incident" (yes, as the bloke who got his stotts stood on) with a pathetically apologetic "if you think this is just sour grapes from an Englishman...".

Clive Tyldesley did well to be the worst of the lot, then, didn't he? A round of (sarcastic) applause.

Main lesson learned about the game over the last month

Steven Gerrard, Francesco Totti and Roberto Carlos advertising Pringles? Pele advertising Puma? Michael Owen advertising Asda and Dominos Pizza? That everyone can be bought, everyone's for sale (to bastardise the Manic Street Preachers' lyrics).

Or, to be less cynical, that a watertight defence is what every great team is founded upon. Take note Glenn Roeder.

And that football can be predictable at times ie that, after thrashing S&M 6-0 and beating Ivory Coast 2-1 in a brilliant game, Argentina and Holland respectively would serve up a dull game while the last ten minutes of Tunisia v Saudi Arabia would be among the most thrilling of the entire tournament.

It's been fun, this, hasn't it?

Indeed it has (apart from the Pleat matches I had to report on). I'd do it again in an instant. It's going to be painful going back to the relative mundanity of Black & White & Read All Over and the meagre fare of Newcastle's Intertoto campaign, which kicks off on Saturday. Thanks to Simon for setting up the blog and subsequently organising things, and to my fellow contributors for their always enjoyable reports.

I guess if I was going to really go out in style I ought to headbutt you in the chest, but you'd have to call my mother a terrorist whore first.

France v Italy, BBC1

2006-07-12T19:47:00.000+01:00

Inevitably, Gary starts outside, promising "the last chapter of a tale that began a month ago" by a statue of a pile of books to the usual dramatic choral music. "They came from all over the world to take part and we've ended with two nations who popped in from next door" is how he sums up the finale, even if you can then guess where his big "they said they were over the hill..." spiel is going - Shearer, Hansen and O'Neill. The focus of the build-up is whether "ageing legs" can get through at least ninety minutes, as if they're all going to collapse at about the 55 mark if they're lucky. Gary senses "pangs of history" in the venue alone, which is an interesting choice of words given what it was built for, as the other mainspring of the hour's build-up, Zidane, comes into play, Hansen reckoning "if he doesn't play that well tonight he'll be remembered for sentimental reasons". As opposed to? The more pragmatic O'Neill reveals "Gattuso - he's become my hero".

Damien Johnson is fronting our first report on a bridge a long way away from the camera in a Hanover castle where France have been based, having "been like aristocrats" just to fit the mood. Why do BBC Sport voiceover translators always sound so weedy? Seemingly jolted into action unexpectedly Gary assures us "the French team is, er, largely as expected." Garth gets Italy and wastes it by asking Lippi about Manchester Utd, getting the expected response from someone who'd be more at home talking up the possibilities of what Gary refers to as "their firth...fourth win". Ray's on gantry duty today with a shouting Desailly wearing his actual signed final shirt over his actual shirt. He hopes France have "much more sprint, much more all the final wins", as he is wont to do. He also reveals Aime Jacquet didn't go in for team talks, which Gary picks up on: "The key to great management - say nothing!" After Leonardo has met Gianluca Vialli with little consequence it's, hurrah, the moments of the tournament! Hansen, Strachan and McCarthy are agreed on Argentina's multi-pass eventual Goal Of The Tournament, Shearer and Crooks plump for Joe Cole, Hansen, Strachan and McCarthy Arg 2nd v S&M; Shearer, Crooks J Cole; Dixon, Bhasin and Peacock for Maxi Rodriguez, Mowbray and Wright go for Graham Poll - literally - Chiles talks about Brazil-Croatia ("I just had goose flesh all over me"), Celina Hinchcliffe promotes that nebulous concept, 'atmosphere', Desailly and Pearce go for Germany v Costa Rica, Dowie mentions Fernando Torres, Leonardo salutes Ronaldo's record, Brotherton nominates Totti's penalty, only Mark Bright names Italy v Germany, Johnson, Stubbs and O'Neill salute Zidane again and Motson, often first to the oddest selection, mentions the "emotional" Zidane and Figo swapping shirts. We also get reminded by Iain Dowie of his own phone faux pas and Lawrenson reminds us of the pundits around a pub table during Mexico v Iran. No Wilson, oddly. Gary then reminds us anyway of "the quality of the punditry" just so they can laugh at Hansen. "Get your money on France quick!" seems to be the punchline.

After a chat between Chiles and Noel Gallagher that's very nice for both but goes nowhere Ray returns with Leonardo explaining why he wants Italy to win. We're not entire sure what he was getting at. Then you start to really wonder whether maybe this started a little early as a profile of the actual stadium involves Adrian having to read a poem from its perspective and have the good grace not to sound too embarrassed. "The Brummie bard at his brilliant best" Gary covers. Oh look, another Zidane tribute, and this one in slo-mo. Everyone hopes he'll come good but as O'Neill, who seems to have a theme building, pricks our collective conscious "Gattuso doesn't do sentiment, does he?" Shearer tries manfully to talk clips of Henry up, "Wiltord should break his neck to get there" a particular highlight. He's predicting penalties while Martin wonders about the keepers, "one brilliant, one bold". Gary sends us off with some stats that bode both ways and hands to Motson, who decides to read off the clubs of the whole French starting eleven and seems disappointed that there will be players from the tournament not in the final. That's how the cookie crumbles, John.

First half:
- "This match needs to kick off at 8pm local time exactly. Mark Lawrenson, can you fill thirty seconds for me?"
- "Well, perhaps there is drama in the first minute" as Henry goes down briefly. Lawrenson helpfully adds "there's always that element of doubt, you're really waiting for the player to tell you".
- Motson on yellows: "If they get a second card...well, if you get two tonight it's different..."
- "This is Malouda - oh, Malouda goes down! Penalty!" Both seem non-commital about the call, but not about "a war of nerves between one of the world's great players and one of the world's best goalkeepers" "Oh, it's hit the underside of the bar and is it over the line? Goal has been given! Goal has been given!" Mark: "I'm not quite sure whether the penalty was cool enough, were you?"
- "From a neutral perspective, is that not the best thing that can happen?"
- "Musn't overwhelm you with these things..." Motson admits after reeling off a load of stats
- The Lawrenson thesaurus is back out - "he doesn't know whether to stick or twist, does he, Barthez?"
- "Marcello Lippi - biting his lip, and not surprisingly".
- "Referee's had to sort out a bit of nonsense there. Materazzi climbing - and it's the equaliser!" All happening, all told. "Would you believe that?" Lawrenson declares of the towering header that "he was head and shoulders above everybody".
- Lawro sets Motson a question about defenders scoring "it's so rhetorical I don't expect you to answer it. Actually, I probably do."
- Motson on Makelele: "it's like ironing a shirt, isn't he? He irons out all the wrinkles for France." Lawro: "yeah, he's never pressed, is he?" Then Mark refers to "Rivery".
- Ashton-under-Lyme gets its obligatory mention 32 minutes in, Motson reeling off his family history before admitting "that's absolutely all I know about him!"
- "Materazzi is there yet again - and yet again!"
- "It's still sweltering here in the commentary box...oh, that's a better picture, isn't it?" as a woman comes into view. Yeah, cheers.

At half time Gary compares it to the 1974 final, more in hope than anything, admitting "tactically it's fascinating". A double edged verbal sword if ever there was one. We get shots of Rome and Milan, Shearer commenting "great scenes" for both. Apparently "we've had emails" about whether the corner for Italy's goal went out of play, everyone judging on the slo-mo that it probably didn't quite. Ray has the two foreign pundits with him and they're as comfortable with the surroundings and language as ever, Leonardo referring to "a big demonstration of how they are inside the match" while Marcel starts with a camp "ooooh!". Ray manages to silence both by suggesting they might be required should it go much longer. The thought of attacking options is all the filip they need in the studio, Alan filling brief dead air by wondering "how good would it be to lift that trophy?" Gary brings him back down with a "It's not gonna happen for us!"

Second half:
- "Mark Lawrenson?" "France have only got ten players out...oh, Zidane." Motson actually timed the length of the break.
- Motson works in "indefatigable" re Grosso. That takes some doing.
- Our director somehow manages to play live coverage and a replay on screen simultaneously.
- "Since he had the knock on the head he's become a different player" is Lawrenson's charitable view as Malouda heads down the wing and nearly crosses onto Ribery's head.
- Vieira goes off to much confusion, especially as neither can understand Perrotta moving right.
- "What's going to happen down there, Mark?" He doesn't quite know but sees De Rossi and Iaquinta. "Be interesting to see if Totti stays on" he ponders, and indeed up his number goes. "Don't think he wants to know, he's walking away with his back - oh, he's seen it now."
- Out of nothing, "Toni closes in!" "Offside, John!" "There was a flag! There was a flag!" "It's a correct decision by the official on the far side, I think." Minutes later, "we've not had a replay of the disallowed goal, have we?" Well, what did you just get a second comment on from then, John? "Having just seen it the once, it might have just been offside against Toni" he eventually concedes.
- "He's just checking to see...oh, Zidane's off!" He's struggling with his shoulder, and as Lawro says "if that's dislocated it's the most painful experience ever". A couple of minutes' worry later, "In fact, he's coming back on!"
- "A lot of promise but not a lot of fulfilment" is how Motson describes it at the end of 90 minutes, the pundits trying not to sound too down. Lawrenson points out of the French team "they got themselves in a circle and did their own team talk - Domenech was two or three yards away from the incident".

Extra time:
- "He's through the legs of Cannavaro!" Really?
- "It's almost walking football, isn't it?" Well, it's you who's been talking about what they've got in their legs all evening. Motson has a plan: "So few goals get scored after extra time I'm wondering if they should start to take penalties after 90 minutes."
- "Ribery....Ribery...Ribery! He should have scored!" "He's gone to pass it..." Lawro says, followed by an indecipherable noise that may well have disguised swearing. Ribery immediately gets subbed.
- "Treze...er, Zambrotta with the throw" Er... Lawrenson's not helping much, analysing "they've sat deeper and deeper and deeper like they're looking for penalties". Motson somewhat disturbingly reckons "he (Barthez) might be the centre of attraction and attention", before remarking "pity, I thought the golden goal was a great idea but FIFA didn't".
- Motson and Lawrenson respectively: "This is interesting, this is Trezeguet, is it?" "Trezeguet, with Materazzi?" "I think it's Zidane, Mark, I think a head may have gone in there" "If the referee has seen that..." "He's off" "The Italians must be saying to the referee that you and your assistants have missed that" "You cannot give something on someone's say-so..." "Lippi has come down the line and been restrained by the fourth official...and the assistant referee has said something, and he's reaching for his card, and he's off!" "As long as they have seen it you can't argue with that." "Zidane's career ends in disgrace" "You can't boo the referee!" "The man who dismissed Rooney for the stamp dismisses Zidane for the head" Motson flourishes.
- It's difficult to tell who's keeping the tighter grip on their emotions, Zinedine or John. "It's chaos here now!" the latter declares before adding "bedlam in Berlin!" It might have seen worse times, John. He's getting frustrated with the lack of attacking, at one point scowling "Toni and Iaquinta would have appreciated a pass there".
- "There's bad blood in the air" John remarks, predicting trouble on the final whistle. There isn't any, and so to penalties, and a noticeable cut back to the box sound

"We've seen it all now" is Alan's curt remark as Gary wonderws before forgetting whether video evidence was covertly used. Everyone agrees that's pretty much all worthy of comment in extra time, so back we go...

Penalties:
- "They're tossing up, clearly". Yeah, alright.
- "Is this the way to World Cup glory?" as the tannoy apparently plays Amarillo. Oh, don't you start, rest of Europe.
- "Materazzi's done just about everything else in this game"
- "Juventus against Juventus - what does Buffon know? He's hit the bar!" "Trezeguet's looking at the referee...", but the grand return of the in-goal camera reveals it didn't cross the line.
- "The next kick can win the World Cup" "Luca Toni?" "Grosso!"
- "He's done it! Italy win the World Cup for the fourth time!"

As Motson overtly declares of Italy "overall you could say they lifted the straightjacket of negativity and donned the cloak of adventure..." we head back to the studio where much is made of Italy coming from a very low place, Alan declaring "any other nation in the world would have struggled with those problems". Much more, obviously, is made of Zidane now they've got time, Leonardo back on the gantry calling him "a symbol of the last generation" while O'Neill ends the speculation on whether Materazzi said anything with "that only happens every 15 seconds in a game". Back to the commentators for the trophy presentation, where they're busy debating the fourth official's role before Lawrenson finds time to spare a thought for Saha, which is more than anyone watching would surely do, and curiously sums up the impending Italian domestic disharmony with "these players are saying get thee behind me, Satan!" The players are behaving very strangely ("never seen headgear like that in a ceremony" "it's some mother's headscarf!"; "Don't break it before you've got it!") with one seemingly missing for the moment - "it'd be nice if we could spot Cannavaro, wouldn't it?" Motson wonders as Materazzi puts a hat on the trophy. "It'd be best to leave that for a few minutes, wouldn't it?" John sagely counsels. Finally, "not so much Cannavaro as can you believe it? On the evening he wins his hundredth cap Italy are four time world champions...That's what they've played for all their life". Leonardo comes back just to clarify that he's only criticising Zidane for that action alone, remembering his own World Cup suspension, while Desailly still as florid around the language as usual before being cut off. Everyone agrees it's been a lovely atmosphere the teams couldn't match, Gary summing it up as "a night of drama and madness in Berlin" before the Goethe poetry over mightily dramatic Bach ends the whole shebang.

Four year's time, then?

Finals Fantasy end of tournament round-up thing - part 1

2006-07-11T21:20:00.000+01:00

We're still here. Well, I'm still here; I'm guessing that those of Finals Fantasy who didn't decide that moving house on the weekend of the World Cup final was a good idea are beavering away on their reports as we speak. Meanwhile, this is the first of several/some/possibly just this one, then (delete as eventually applicable) post-tournament round-up bits which may be appearing as the week progresses. Sorry, everyone.)

What did you make of it, then?

It was great. Of course all World Cups are great, and anyone who claims to like football but says otherwise should be regarded with suspicion, but I've found this World Cup hugely enjoyable, with more interesting games and less complete clunkers than any of the 20 years worth of World Cups that I recall. The pre-season friendlies, which would usually have me all of a quiver at this time of year, look rather limp and uninteresting by comparison.

Best defensive player

Rafael Marquez invariably seemed to be not just playing in at least three positions at any one time but playing brilliantly in all of them. All right, so Cannavaro was robbed for player of the tournament, but there was something ever so slightly swashbuckling about Marquez, which is always quite impressive for a central defender.

Best attacking player

Daniele De Rossi, for by far the best headbutt of the tournament. None of this headlong charging into someone's chest because he was rude about your mum nonsense for Daniele, dear me no, just an entirely motiveless attack accompanied by a shrug of inncoence and a smirk as he wandered off the pitch. Marvelous. Or possibly Asamoah Gyan for confusingly wearing squad number 3 while playing up front, even if his shooting left something to be desired. The forwards were a bit of a let down, all told.

Biggest letdown

Well, the forwards, for a start. The lack of a multiball feature for anyone hitting the screen over the centre of the pitch in Frankfurt. That would have been excellent. The England midfield were rubbish as well, but goodness knows everyone has read about that enough elsewhere.

Item you'd track down for the National Football Museum

Graham Poll's yellow card.

Best pundit

Hansen's explanation of how to defend corners after the England-Sweden highlights was a splendid example of how punditry should work - taking something that seems relatively straightforward and explaining its complexities in a way that didn't assume everybody watching was a total fatheaded idiot. However, as he didn't embark on a lengthy, not really worth the effort expanded upon it description of 70s cinema and William Goldman's Adventures In The Screen Trade at the end of the 3rd place play-off and as Martin O'Neil did, the best pundit is Martin O'Neil. Go on Martin, don't go back into management, just sit on the opposite sofa from Adrian Chiles once a week and talk about whatever you like.

Best commentator

Steve Wilson, for managing to sound wide-eyedly enthusiastic about whichever game he might be about to cover, highlights of Iran v Angola included, and even though he did come over slightly like that bloke commentating on the Hindenberg exploding during the Germany-Argentina fisticuffs (following Mick McCarthy's superb "he's nailed him! He's karate-kicked the 17 in the groin!" with a plaintive "this is awful! this is awful!" but fortunately stopping short of "oh the humanity!" and then throwing up. Unless they cut that bit out).

Worst pundit

Where to start? None of the new additions for either channel were much use, although at least ITV sent most of theirs home by the end of the group stages, and I rather enjoyed Marcel Desailly's bouts of grumpiness when things weren't going France/Ghana/whoever he was supporting's way. Ian Wright's man-in-the-street-England-fan routine is really beginning to grate now. I suspect that not even Andy Townsend understands why Andy Townsend is employed to comment knowledgably about football. In the end, for sheer persistence and the amount of faith placed in him for no earthly reason, and despite O'Neil's best efforts to get some sort of double act going, it has to be the man who can say nothing of interest in five different languages, Leonardo.

Worst commentator

I've long suspected that if you strip away the need to bang on relentlessly about England or Manchester United or to try to reduce everything to some aspect of domestic football that only an idiot would be interested in, deep down, underneath it all, Clive Tyldesley is actually quite a good commentator. This was the tournament that finally convinced me that I was wrong. Clive annoyed me even more than Jonathan Pearce's over-exagerated attempts at pronunciation which, particularly when it came to Italy and France, sounded less like an authentic accent and more like 'Allo 'Allo. And I don't really want to be reminded of 'Allo 'Allo at any stage, thanks.

Main lesson learned about the game over the last month

Trying to write a report on an England penalty defeat while slightly drunk and rather fed up isn't the ideal way to spend a Saturday night. Not strictly relevant to football as a whole, perhaps, but I offer it up as a friendly warning.

It's been fun, this, hasn't it?

I'll never think of Iain Dowie, Mark Lawrenson, Radovan Karadic, Kasey Keller, Fabian Barthez, van insurance or onanism in quite the same way again, that's for certain.

Anyone who saw 8 Out Of 10 Cats last night...

2006-07-08T15:52:00.000+01:00

...might have been wondering about this.

Adwatch

2006-07-07T16:42:00.000+01:00

Samsung LCD HDTV

Oh yes. I couldn't possibly let the Adwatch series end without mentioning this gem.

I've still not quite managed to transcribe it all, but (paraphrased slightly perhaps) it begins: "Imagine you've scored tickets to the world football finals. Your friends wonder who you'll take. Even your boss is looking for an invite. But then you see his Samsung LCD HDTV. It's stunning. The design is brilliant...".

Of course, the upshot of it all is that "you" give away your tickets and instead invest in one of the aforementioned TVs on which "you" and "your friends" can watch the "world football finals". For this, "you" are hailed as a "genius".

There are so many things wrong with this advert, not least the fact that were you or I to do this we wouldn't be hailed as a "genius" so much as beaten to death with our own shoes. The use of the word "genius" and the unique selling points of the TV - "It's stunning. The design is brilliant" - make the script read as though it's dripping with sarcasm. But, somewhat incredibly, it's not.

So, how's about I out the dynamic creative geniuses behind the advert? Take a bow Leo Burnett, one of the largest worldwide agencies, who proudly proclaim themselves to be "ideas-centric". (Incidentally, they're also responsible for / guilty of the "I'm lovin' it" ads for McDonalds.) I'm guessing the office in the Samsung ad is based on their own - populated by impossibly young, savvy, dashing and expensively dressed "creatives" with a money-to-sense ratio of 50:1 who've never been to a football game in their lives and if they did would complain about the quality of the prawn sandwiches. Funny how Samsung sponsor Chelsea, isn't it?

Quote of the day

2006-07-07T16:37:00.000+01:00

"I fucked you! I fucked you!"

What French coach Raymond Domenech - he of the "impressive earhole plumage" - apparently jigged about shouting following his side's victory over Portugal on Wednesday night. As a result, he's been reported to FIFA. What's the world coming to? After the Portuguese antics in that game, and the sour taste Ronaldo's behaviour left in English mouths following the quarter-final, the man should be knighted.

France v Portugal, TalkSport

2006-07-07T00:36:00.000+01:00

“Coming up next, Portugal v France on your official World Cup station.” Ah, commercial radio and your never-ending quest for officialdom, how I’ve missed you. My dad’s always been a bit surprised that I don’t listen to TalkSport (or talkSPORT, as the scrolling message thing on the DAB tells me, or Talksport, as we’re going to refer to it for the rest of the report, cheers), but I’ve always been rather suspicious of it. I think it’s wariness brought on by listening to other people’s idiot wrong opinions on 6-0-6 in any of its post-Baker eras that put me off the notion of sport-related radio for life. (The Talksport schedule currently features former BBC London right reactionary old scumbag Jon Gaunt; I dread to think what his opinions on sport might be, and I have no desire to find out.)

Our commentary team are Jim Proudfoot and Alvin Martin. Jim does a decent enough job, a spell watching the match while listening to his commentary suggesting that he keeps up with play pretty well, and doesn’t overburden the listener with his opinions (unlike, say, Green) or a lot of useless drivel delivered at high speed making the game impossible to follow (a fear that anyone who ever heard Jonathan Pearce in his Capital Gold days will carry with them forever). He’s not so good when it comes to sketching in local colour, though, and when he does it leaves something to be desired – I’m somewhat coloublind, and even I can spot that while Ricardo’s shirt is similar in design to that of Wycombe Wanderers, it’s far too turquoise-y for anyone to mistake the two. Alvin, meanwhile, starts the game by getting very excited about Portugal’s defensive record, as you might expect.

Truth be told there’s not an awful lot to report in the early stages of the match, or at least not until a certain winger gets the ball. "The boos will tell you who's on the ball, the French have been watching our game" says Jim, not really thinking it through. Later, after proving that it's not just ITV commentators who marvel at English flags at non-England games, Jim devises a different theory: "I wonder if it's the French or it's Englishmen who are catcalling Ronaldo?" Who indeed.

Ten minutes in, and the reason why the oft-mentioned uninterrupted commentary is available becomes apparent. “You’re listening to the World Cup on Talksport, in association with Budget Van Insurance”, announces Jim, before telling us at some length about the great deals we can get at Budget Van Insurance, and even finding time for the phone number. This is the first of several sponsor messages to pop up during the match, but for incongruity the only one to come close is for Sure, “sports protection which lets you go wild at make or break decisions”. Is going wild at make or break decisions really that advisable? And will Sure be on hand to pick up the pieces if it all ends in tears?

With the game failing to compel our commentators an alternative theme for the evening soon unravels itself, albeit in a manner that Jim hadn’t quite expected, as Ribery takes a tumble: "it's not nice to report the first piece of gamesmanship, but it's come from France rather than Portugal". Yes, because no other team in the history of football has ever attempted to cheat in any way, that's it. Fortunately, Portugal soon revert to type and Jim can start getting really upset. “It’s the most lamentable part of our game” he complains as Carvalho waves an imaginary card. (To be fair, Jim probably won’t have seen the ITV break bumpers so it’s understandable that he might make this error.) When the penalty is awarded Alvin suggests that Henry has made the most of Carvalho’s challenge, but “if you live by the sword you die by the sword”. This doesn’t make an awful lot of sense, but then “if you get booted in the testicles and then foul someone in the penalty area in the next match, you give away a penalty”, while accurate, isn’t nearly so catchy. Alvin claims that you can hear the sound of Ricardo getting his hand to the resulting penalty from the commentary box, which seems somehow unlikely.

Half time: Rodney Marsh is on hand to let us know that he “thought an Italy-France final was destiny, but you don’t play football with a ouija board”. There are a million jokes about Glenn Hoddle to be made at this point, but try as I might I can’t think of any of them.

Adverts: “Hi, I’m Tony Cottee”. Tony’s here to tell us how to watch those all-important knock-out stages without missing work. “Access your PC from anywhere” says Tony. Of all the West Ham team of the late 80s, Tony really isn’t the one you would have expected to turn to a career in IT.

Back to Jim and Alvin for the second half. Jim asks Alvin to compare France’s performance to England’s a few days previously. “Not much in it” suggests Alvin. I’ve only seen a few minutes of the match, but from Jim’s astute commentary alone I can tell that this is horseshit. The absence of any football-related excitement means that Jim can really hit his chosen theme for the evening hard; “increasingly one-way traffic in the gamesmanship and cheating in this game” he says in the sort of tone more commonly reserved for announcing the death of the Pope. Alvin is convinced that there’s going to be a twist in the game at any moment, even after Scolari repeats his excellently ineffective Simao-for-Pauleta substitution from Saturday: “it’s a big decision, but he usually gets them right”. Yeah, that holding on for a draw against a poor team with 10 men was inspiring stuff.

Then - finally! at last! - excitement, as Barthez makes a fluff and Figo heads narrowly over with the goal gaping. Alvin describes this as “one of the worst displays of goalkeeping I’ve ever seen in my life”, and he played in front of Alan McKnight and therefore knows about that sort of thing. Jim refers to Barthez as “the balding 36 year old”. Balding? Jim gets to raise his voice again as Ricardo charges forward for a corner, but nothing much results and the highlight of the closing stages is Alvin chuckling at Figo apparently nearly losing his shorts. Perhaps fortunately, the circumstances are never expanded upon.

Jim greets the final whistle with a jolly “Vive la France!” Rodney’s on hand to dish out the Carlsberg man of the match award to Thuram, and the Budget Van Insurance save of the match to Ricardo; it’s not made clear what benefits this bestows on the players in question, although it would be nice to think that the next time Ricardo needs a van that he’ll be able to get it insured at a decent rate. Does Rodney think the final will be a classic? “Yes, I do.” Phew, that was close.

What we’ve learned: Portugal - they bad men; if you’re likely to find yourself in a make or break situation, probably best to not base any decision you might make on your deodorant; Rodney Marsh’s instincts are much better than Ian Wright’s.

What we’re still unsure of: Is it cheap insurance for vans, or insurance for budget vans only?

France v Portugal, BBC1

2006-07-06T12:46:00.000+01:00

I once almost got my head kicked in for wanting France to win a game. Well, actually I once almost got my head kicked in for saying I didn’t mind who won in a game involving France. My fault really for deciding to watch the ’98 semi-final in one of Leigh Park’s less salubrious drinking houses. Leigh Park, for those of you not in the know, is Havant’s Beeston, its Huyton, its Moss Side. Being the South Coast, we have the country of France a little bit closer than most and, ergo, the casual dislike we Brits are supposed to have is magnified more than a little. You know the types, “Them French. Not comin’ over ‘ere, not stealin’ ‘ar wimmin, but they’re, err, nearby. Those c****.”

Overhearing me suggesting that I didn’t really mind who won their game with Croatia, one chap took issue with the notion that I was 50% receptive to a French victory. “But you’re English, you’ve got to hate the French” and a long discussion ensued where filled with the bravado that only a couple of Kronenberg’s can bring, I took issue with his hypothesis, and suggested that I was just eager to see a good game. It descended, during which time I was accused of “not knowing anything about football.” I naturally responded that his argument had nothing to do with knowing about football and was merely xenophobic. Sadly, this was a word with which he wasn’t familiar, which did nothing to assuage his rising ire and therefore my associates decided we had best leave, fearing that I might be exiting soon via the window anyhow.

In the run up to this game, I thought about my eight-years estranged friend from The Curlew. Today must be a real problem for him. He can’t support France, as we’ve discovered, but the only alternative is to root for Portugal, the team of that nasty Christiano Ronaldo. Boooo, and so on. Y’know, it really puts football in perspective at times like this, knowing that there is a young man on the South Coast whose head has not long burst. With that in mind, I’ll come out and say it. I’d like France to win this game. Not for vengeance reasons, merely because they looked so good against Brazil. If you want, we can do this outside…

It looks like I’ll have a few others on my side though as the BBC runs its flag up the French mast within seconds. “Who will join Italy in the final, those loveable Portuguese or a born again France” says Gary, not long after hammering home his allegiance once more, “as always on the BBC we’re completely impartial, so ‘allez les Blues’” he crows, the temporary Tricolor tattoo on his nape just out of shot. “Bono, sorry, Alan” is Gary’s expected, but happily brief reference to Shearer’s appearances across the web today, courtesy of his daughter’s ‘Sing-Along-A-U2’ documentary short, before the two Al’s dissect the two teams on show today. When asked to contribute, Martin O’Neill appears to sweat, saying “Well you’ve covered just about everything. Portugal. France. Is anyone else playing?” like the two kids who’ve copied his homework have been cute enough to put their hands up first.

In the stadium, Adrian Chiles is with Marcel Desailly and Leonardo. It is a ramshackle gathering that, on the three occasions we join them, never looks quite prepared for it, wandering about like they’re trying to assemble themselves into the correct queue at a foreign bus station. Adrian is there holding his ear-piece like he’s just been entertaining his colleagues with his impersonation of David Coleman’s Spitting Image puppet. Leonardo meanwhile appears to be lost in the music being pumped out by the stadium PA. Celina Hinchcliffe’s report on Portugal airs Ronaldo’s defence as well as Ricardo talking about his penalty saves with about as much false modesty as Simon Jordan on catching his reflection in a wing-mirror. Back in the studio the talk is of Deco, Martin appearing to break into a Noel Fielding stand-up deviation, suggesting that “I’m not sure he gets up quick enough after being hit by an invisible spider.” Imagine that.

We hear from the French press conference, Raymond Domenech sporting some impressive earhole plumage. After this Alan Hansen then picks up Terry Venables baton from the quarterfinal in waxing dribbly about Zinedine Zidane, while Shearer rubs his hands when asked if France will win. “I hope they do” he smiles likes he’s peering down a camera phone. Into the stadium and Motty is keen to talk about the Portuguese discipline, “and not just cos of the England game” he protests like a child with an aniseed ball melting in his fib-sweat drenched palm, on interrogation by an angry newsagent. As we move along the teams during the anthems, Zidane’s eyes flick like he can’t precisely remember if he locked his front door or not, while Motty notes the squad players who’ve not yet had their chance, like Pascal Chimbonda of Wigan. “He’ll be able to swap notes with Theo Walcott” is Lawro’s warm-up gag.

Each time Christiano Ronaldo gets the ball, boos ring out “that’s not just England supporters by the way” says Motty keen to stress the pantomime villain role Ronaldo will be playing, as a “’Rrrraaaaay” guffaws out as the ball is snatched away from him. “That’s something he’s rightly going to have to live with” says Lawro, closet vigilante. Ronaldo however seems to be gaining strength from the barracking, laying a cheeky backheel for Maniche to send a first team shot a mere foot over the bar.

It is clear that Portugal are keen to work the officials once again, going down with the fluidity and regularity of lubed-up Gentoo penguins. They show Domenech on the side-line suggesting a Ronaldo dive in possibly the most mincing gesture of this or any World Cup. In the 32nd minute, Henry follows the oppositions lead by making his drop look stylish, the difference being that Thierry actually appears to have been fouled. Zidane kick swerves into the side of the net just away from Ricardo’s reach.

“Abel Xavier lookalike there” says Motty as the camera spots, err, Abel Xavier in the crowd. Lawro quickly corrects him, “still looks like King Neptune doesn’t he” he says, keen to show off his love of Gods and folklore. Indeed, not long after he suggests “it’s like the boy who cried wolf” when Ronaldo is denied a penalty. The Portuguese bench goes mad, but replays show that the nation’s favourite appears to be trying to get the attention of WWE executives with a top-rope moonsault.

At half time the pundits are moody, suggesting the group stages were better than the knockouts have been, seeming to ignore last night’s semi-final which, in fairness, was a lot better than this. Discussing Ronaldo’s penalty appeal, Alan Shearer suggests that as part of his dive there was “even a little bit of head action” which I really hope was a sly reference to this currently popular item.

Moving on Gary suggests, bearing his teeth a little, “England are out of the World Cup. Not perhaps because of two lads from Portugal and Liverpool, but perhaps because of a middle-aged man from Sweden. 5 years he had” which leads into a savage package that sticks the boot into Sven the only way the BBC know how, via the medium of musical montage. Broadcast’s ‘Come On, Lets Go’ plays over shots, good and bad, from games, as well as film of Faria, Ulrika, the fake Sheikh and such. “What’s the point in wasting time on people that you’ll never know” is the lyric as they whip through shots of James Beattie, Michael Ricketts and the myriad forgotten men. Bitter stuff but Martin’s able to lighten the tension, “Ian Wright must have been in the editing room for the last 3 weeks” he says before attempting a fair appraisal of Sven’s achievements and his relationship with the media. Gary’s having none of it though “do you think people care about that, or do people care about performances” etc etc, leaping off the fence and showing a darkness that has me questioning my whole belief system, I can tell you. Remember Superman III? The real Gary, one assumes, is currently trying to avoid being turned into a cube by a Berlin car crusher. Hopefully he’ll regain his nice-guy strength, break out and deal with this shadowy imposter before the end of the show.

Back with the boys inside the stadium, Leonardo is adjusting his trousers, possibly in the hope of more dancing later. “So, well, no-one got anything else to say” says Evil Gary testily, as he struggles to fill the last few seconds before we go back to the commentary box. “There’s a chap just stood up in front of me, I’m about to have a row with him” says Mark, deciding against further grumpy revelations such as the poor quality of his half-time scotch-egg and how the seats in Japan were much more comfy.

After another easy Portuguese fall, we see Domenech now playing charades on the touchline. Then we see him trying to attract attention, sticking two pointed fingers in each side of the mouth to whistle like a sexually frustrated site labourer. Over the way, Scolari is seen urging his players up the field, motioning in the fashion of a meths-addled tramp offering unsolicited advice to a reversing bus-driver. The match continues in fairly uninspiring fashion until the 77th minute, when that man Ronaldo fires a free-kick from 30 yards over the wall. Barthez deals with it in his usual way, like he’s an eager but nervous trainee vet, the ball being a well-organised chicken trying to take advantage of the newbie’s first visit to escape the coop. To his and France’s relief, the follow-up header drops onto the roof of the net.

When Ricardo Carvalho gets a yellow card, meaning he would miss the final if they got there, John says “don’t wish to be spiteful, but he was the player involved in the Wayne Rooney incident,” struggling to contain the glee of retribution. He’s right though, it was harsh of Carvalho to thrust his cock and balls violently into Wayne’s studs like that. In extra time Ricardo joins the attack, and despite an over-head hooked pass which wins a corner it isn’t enough, Barthez doing his wobbly unicycle effort with aplomb. “Let me repeat” says John, suppressing a big laugh, “Ronaldo and Portugal will not be in the final”, the German director obliging the English viewing public by showing Christiano on the verge of tears

“Big Phil is in a big strop” says Gary as we see the Felipe stomping all over the pitch and haranguing the referee. “A good team, a decent team” adds Alan Shearer, pointedly, about France. Once again, the boys in the stadium are unprepared as Marcel appears to pass a watch to a flustered Adrian Chiles, suggesting either his close-up magic prowess is coming on leaps and bounds, or the BBC betting circle has gotten out of hand and left him a little light. He seems happy though, “now for sure they will win it” he beams, preparing to hand back Leonardo’s wallet.

Referee (Jorge Lariondda, Uruguay): Possibly the first referee this tournament to be criticised for not booking enough players. Alan Shearer suggests a red card for one of the Portuguese divers would “soon put a stop to it.” His case for tarring, feathering and the arming of 5th officials with snipers will be provided to FIFA in a dossier after the tournament.

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: gamesmanship, or possibly “BOOOOOOOOOO”

These things I believe: I’d like to think the owner of the Scottish Saltire that was on display in the ground, stood up amongst the England fans and applauded every time Ronaldo got the ball. -- Scolari appears to have Tom Selleck amongst his backroom staff -- Is Scolari’s polo getting washed at the wrong temperature before each game or is it just that the external and internal heat is making him expand during them. -- Remember when Sven was England manager?

Germany v Italy, ITV1

2006-07-06T00:02:00.000+01:00

This would have been up much earlier but for the electricity having almost literally having just come back on having gone off early this morning around here. The bullet point version of the report seemed to work last time, so:

- "Destination Dortmund!" They haven't cut into the opening titles before with a Champions League-style build-up insert, have they? Steve Rider's obsession, if we can label it as such, is how the Germans somehow deserve this - "they've got the organisation right, they've got the atmosphere, and now for these fans the ultimate dream - can they get the football right?" At this "stronghold" Steve Rider sounds like he's in a small reflective box as he talks up the new favourite catch-all, "atmosphere". "This is serious home advantage" Steve puts it to Terry Venables, who gives the assertion that this is where they should be playing the game before a "major, monster final". Andy Townsend restricts himself to likening the stadium to Anfield.

- Ned reports on Jurgen, speaking to start as if in a museum. Tel reckons "he looks like he should still be playing".

- "German football describes this stadium as the living room, it's so comfortable." What? Gabriel sonorously tells of Italian connections to 1982, mostly just as a way to run through the current scandals together.

- "Anyone who scores early is going to have a huge boost" Venables states, ominously. Rider's still going on about the closeness of the stadium "Everyone for Germany?" Steve checks, as he appears to be rousing the German team for them. He then suggests we "enjoy it with David Pleat and Clive Tyldesley". That'll require some work on our part.

- Apparently everyone's singing "fussball's coming home" as "German soil (is) shaking with anticipation". What does all this mean? And while we're about it, has every part started with a reference to being in Dortmund? Are we meant to be impressed by this alone?

- Clive only thinks to put personal Germany/Italy animosities into it as the game starts, while Pleat calls Jurgen "a bright man, a lovely, easy man" who "made the ground rules early and stuck to his guns". Yes.

- Oddly, Clive chooses to publicly doubt Cannavaro's stated height. It's lively stuff, Pleat seeing it as a "lovely ebb and flow". They're particularly pleased by Lukas Podolski, Clive marvelling "it's almost as if he's been given a script of the match", whatever that means. David points out he's recovered well having been "booed off a little bit" in an earlier game. How could he tell it had only been a little booing? "There weren't too many flags being flown from German white vans when we arrived" Clive puts it.

- "Some whistles here, not sure if the Germans should have given that back" Good you're on top of things, Clive. Germany are posing most of the threat, Schneider missing the best chance despite Pleat wondering, curiously, "is he really sure he could have hit that rigging?" "They manage well enough from the penalty spot, though" Clive facetiously responds. Then David really lands himself in it, declaring of Germany's strikeforce "nice to see two strikers playing with each other" before praising "improvisation" to win crucial free kicks. No, not in that sense.

- Inevitably, Clive is determined to put Ashton under Lyme's Simone Perotta into context, ending up remarking "Geoff Hurst is from there as well, you know?" and naming his former school. Something odd seems to have come over the pair of them, in fact, as when Michael Ballack goes down easily he chances "he'll have to get that out of his system - they don't dive at Chelsea, do they?"

- "Nothing to choose between two teams who have gone for it from the outset" is Tyldesley's first half verdict. Steve, the network man, follows a trailer for some boxing by declaring "this would be even on most judges' cards" as Andy references "playing with each other" and worryingly adds "once you put Totti in there..." We get some shots of the famous fan parks, Steve calling them "a night at the movies, but who will be happiest when the credits roll?" Er...

- Clive's off again on the old favourite, speculating "It's a wonder Germany don't play all of their games here in Dortmund". There's a distinct quietness to how he starts this half, especially when he gets to loose speculation about Buffon possibly going to Arsenal, summed up as "mind games". Pleat is meanwhile praising Camaronesi and how "whenever a ball is played to this willing runner he applauds it". Er, yes.

- Grosso goes down after heftily catching himself on Klose's knee and is shown waggling his head about in pain. Clive reacts with a "my brain hurts" in a dumb voice. We never want to hear that again.

- "Perhaps the referee should stop the game for a minute and allow them a drinks break, they deserve it" is Pleat's charitable view, while Clive refers to "our blinkered views of other nations" in praising the Mexican ref.

- "They've crept a yard forward, the Germans complai..." "BALLACK!" It went over.

- Lehmann accidentally flatters Perrotta, and Clive notes with restrained glee that "they thought Lehmann was going to do a Schumacher".

- "One for the purists - one to keep and savour" Pleat reckons, while Clive responds to a touchline tussle for the ball "used to play a game like that at school, called it crab football. I was pretty good at it."

- The studio team get less than thirty seconds, although Terry does just about get to point out "Ballack coming deeper and deeper and deeper".

- Gilardino "hit the post!", as declared by Clive at top volume. He "couldn't provide that cute finish", apparently. Then Zambrotta hits bar, Tyldesley bemoaning that "the only luck they've had has been bad luck", using historical context just in case we're not convinced.

- "He'll have to get used to that, Ballack. Wait until he meets Robbie Savage."

- "Great reaction from Andy and Terry" Steve pointlessly tells us off camera as everyone swaps ends, Clive adding "there is a hero and there is a villain out there, we just don't know who they are."

- "Alessandro del Piero, there's no flag, Alessandro del Piero, saved by Lehmann!" Clive seems to say this in a very odd manner, as if struggling to keep up. Which is fair enough, as there's "almost two games going on here, one at one end of the field, another at the other."

- "Trying to dance his way into some space... IT'S IN! It's Grosso! It's Italy! The most wonderful football match has got the most wonderful finale - a goal from a full-back, that tells you everything!" No it doesn't, but there's more to come yet. "He's played in del Piero...fantastic! And whatever happens in the World Cup final, we will be talking about this game for years." The director cuts straight away to a German fan with head in hands.

- "The final whistle has gone, would you believe...this is where the German dream ends, it might well be the start for Italy. Magnifico!" Tel and Andy are in similar raptures amid best game so far hallelujahs. "We were all talking about it, we thought it'd be a long night" Andy accurately surmises, up to a point.

"A disappointing dribble"

2006-07-05T13:35:00.000+01:00

Turns out it wasn't just bona fide Englishmen who were dismayed by the nation's dismal World Cup exit. Here's the reaction of my Scottish mate Graham:

"I've now sampled the life of being an England fan for the past three weeks and I can safely say I won't be doing that again. I liken the whole World Cup experience to not having a wank for about two weeks, expecting something spectacular and only ending up with a disappointing dribble and a strange feeling of emptiness as you reach for the Kleenex".

Well, quite.

England - the fans give their verdict

2006-07-04T22:16:00.000+01:00

Adam did this screenshot, for the record

Adwatch

2006-07-04T14:35:00.000+01:00

Dominos

More specifically, the one advertising Dominos' Football Fanatic pizza. Available for a limited edition, which quite marvellously coincides with the World Cup.

Following the "logic" (such as it is) of the ad, you can prove yourself to be a football fanatic by buying and consuming a Football Fanatic pizza.

Two questions:

1. Given that the Football Fanatic pizza is topped with meatballs, sausage and pepperoni, does this mean that only carnivores can be genuine football fanatics? Seems a little unfair.

2. What if you fancy a pizza topped with meatballs, sausage and pepperoni, but actually despise football? Do they perform rigorous security checks to ensure that Football Fanatic pizzas don't fall into the wrong hands?

Of course, the only remotely interesting bit of the advert is the fact that the non-Football-Fanatic-pizza-eating bloke proves he's even more of a football fanatic than the Football-Fanatic-pizza-eating bloke by having Michael Owen shut up in a cupboard. Proves he's a kidnapping psychopath, more like.

Actually, come to think of it, I bet Glenn Roeder and Freddie Shepherd wish they'd had Owen locked in a cupboard for the duration of the World Cup. Me too.

We're famous!

2006-07-03T16:00:00.000+01:00

It's buggered up the referrer stats, mind.

Brazil v France, ITV1

2006-07-02T14:01:00.000+01:00

When I drew this game, I was quite pleased to get the last quarter final, for time management reasons. However sitting down to appraise this game a mere 45 minutes after Christiano Ronaldo’s kick from the penalty mark seems like a pretty steep hill to climb. English sport has taken quite a battering today. For those of us that follow the summer game as well, the cricket team’s humiliation in the final game of a 5-0 one-day series whitewash is equally as troubling as yet another shoot-out failure.

ITV does not appear the place to escape the gloom, “The hurt goes on” being Steve Rider’s first words swiftly followed by “they just weren’t good enough”. Perhaps it would have been better for me to hide in a cupboard until kick off. “It was agony in Gelsenkirchen, but what will it be for France and Brazil” says Steve, demonstrating admirable newsreader training in dead-celebrity-to-intrepid-kitten style segue. Points for effort to the man, doing his best to console the audience and yet convince them another football match is the best way to hair-of-the-dog their way to a relatively decent evening. We go to a break, allowing us a little cry, which is kind of them.

“England are out of the World Cup” Steve reminds the goldfish in the audience as we return, while Terry is continuing to perfect his slightly-trousered pensioner routine, getting a little lost trying to decide which team it was this afternoon that went down to ten men. Mind you I think I may be going off a little myself as during Ruud’s appraisal, it sounds as though he refers to England as ‘we’. Probably just my hearing. Steve asks Terry about the rumours that he will join McLaren’s England set up which gives Ruud the chance to sweep Terry’s chimney. He asks, grandly, to be heard, then proceeds to gush about what El Tel could bring to the role, like a man who has spent the afternoon apologising profusely for criticising a colleague’s singing voice.

As we return from this, I dunno, 15th? is it?, break of the broadcast, we are met with a shot of a dramatically moustachioed Brazilian in the crowd massaging a market stall replica of the Cup, a disturbingly leery grin peeking from beneath his draft-excluding bristles. “They feel they own it, lets hope they haven’t pinched it” says Steve. Good a point as any to move onto talk of the prior performances of tonights sides. “When Zidane had to do it, he did it” says Ruud, Terry suggesting “He got an alarm call didn’t he” before suggesting what that might have sounded like, “wake up, wake up, wake up” he squawks like a toddler wishing to report local tooth-fairy activity at 5am on a Sunday morning.

The teams begin to enter the stadium and Clive Tyldsley can’t enthuse enough about the star players in either side and the fact we have the last two world champions on show, “Most of these players are part of the furniture of the penthouse suite of modern football” he says, with a puffed chest. In the 5th minute, Juan tries to back-heel the ball in when it’s three feet off the ground, although he is ruled offside. Attacking intent, but the early showboating suggests they are none to worried about the opposition.

The first quarter hour is pretty open and flowing with Brazil causing the most scares but the tempo soon decreases, the game bottling itself into midfield, where France, particularly Zidane, decide to put on a show of their own. “France are playing like Brazil” suggests Pleat. After Ronaldo blocks the ball with his hand while part of a defensive wall and protests to the referee about the ensuing yellow card, Clive attempts to lip-read. “‘I’m protecting my beautiful looks’, he’s saying” is his catty guess.

“Zidane is just a delight tonight” says Terry at half-time like he’s fallen in love for the first time, which also appears to be Ruud’s motivation for, once again, canvassing for Terry’s return to the England set up. “Thank you boys, thank you Steve” says Clive, keen to make the distinction as he receives the baton at the start of the second half, a mere forty seconds into which France squander a great chance. Zidane floats in a ball form the right and William Gallas heads just wide. The only comments Brazil are getting at this stage appear to be concerning attire, “he’s taken his headband off” says Pleat of Ronaldinho. It is a sartorial decision worthy of comment though, as the Brazilian bottle-opener’s greasy appearance in the first half will surely have ensured said garments clog up the queue-adjacent bargain bins of JJB outlet stores everywhere for some time to come. Steve Foster! Eric Young! Sales of your associated headgear have taken one hell of beating.

As France maintain their dominance, Clive decides he’ll try out some new inflections. “Shall we go for a run boys” he says with a high degree of mince as Henry scampers past two defenders on the left flank while later, as Roberto Carlos writhes around clencing a rear cheek, he pronounces “but-tock” like a Chinaman with a spastic diaphragm, for reasons best known to his doctor.

In the 56th minute, Zidane swings a free-kick in from the left missing everyone save for Henry who swoops in on an air-pocket at the backpost to direct the ball home with a slanted cushion sidefoot. Goals rarely come much more graceful. Five minutes later, Ribery gets to the by-line and slides a ball across, Juan’s attempted clearance slipping across the goal and just past the post. Brazil up their effort, bringing on Adriano and going all out for the equaliser. “Brazil have started to play…it’s a little late” says Pleat. France then hit on the break, a timed ball from Henry leaving Ribery free with Dida, but the keeper comes out sharply and Ribery’s necessarily first time shot thuds into his stomach. With their confidence back up, France take to stroking it around like they wish to better Argentina’s softly-softly goal against Serbia and Montenegro. “Please don’t give up the game, please please don’t stop yet” beseeches a forlorn Clive to the resurgent Zidane, “Terry Venables called him the magician and he’s been that…its behind his back; its up his sleeve” he adds as, at a Magic Circle AGM somewhere, a black ball is tossed into a ceremonial hat.

Two minutes from time, and Ronaldinho is in last chance saloon as he takes a free-kick on the edge of the box, but he sends it flying over the bar. “It’s been the old master’s night, not the young pretender” says David Pleat formulating ideas for a West End musical. As the game enters injury time, Ronaldo tests the flapping Barthez, while Cicinho sends a cross buzzing into the area which Ze Roberto can’t direct sufficiently. Attempting to get his team to keep their heads, Domenech gives it his best Corporal Jones on the touchline. They hold on, sending Brazil out and guaranteeing a European winner.

“This will have restored people’ faith in the beautiful game” says a surprisingly lyrical Pleat, and he’s got a point. After all my talk of not thinking I’d cope well with this after this afternoon, it was a pretty reasonable tonic. Terry Venables is still in awe of Zidane, “Every time he gets it you want to play music” he coos, “and when he gives it away, turn the music off again.”

Zidane has a great opportunity to win the World Cup again in the coming week, but what is now clear, is that his chances in the pass-the-parcel have never been lower.

Referee (Luis Medina Cantalejo, Spain): Signalling betrays an apparent fondness for buckling swash on the am-dram stage. Rather than running about endlessly when the play is stuck in one area of the field, he often appears to stop, arch slightly forward and peer intently like he is, at once, a swimming pool attendant, a Wimbledon line judge and a sumo. Anders ‘hair by Maurice’ Frisk was, arguably, the cult ref of Euro 2004. For 2006 though, I put forward Cantalejo as the new cult European ref of choice.

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: Oh oh oh, it’s ‘magic’

These things I believe: Ronaldinho has clearly been taking hair arrangement tips from Harry ‘Peachfuzz’ Kewell. The blind leading the perfectly-sighted-but-apparently-unwilling-to-shower -- Zinedine Zidane is taking requests and will be here all week (or so he would hope) -- It is good to know that even after all these years Fabien Barthez still keeps goal like he’s repeatedly falling over a patio chair -- Where have this France team been hiding? –- All that said, I reckon the winner will come from the ‘other’ semi-final.

Product of a union between Leonard Cohen and the lining of John Motson’s sheepy: Raymond Domenech.

Back handed compliment of the day: “HE looks stiff and cumbersome…but he’s fantastic”, from the mouth of Pleat

England v Portugal, BBC1

2006-07-02T00:38:00.000+01:00

So, where to start?

All right, let's skip to the end: could someone explain why it's always described as "the lottery of penalties"? A lottery, according to my handy dictionary, is "something where the outcome is governed by luck". And yet when certain nations are involved - Holland, Italy, England - this alleged lottery ends up resembling a game of three card Monte run by a man who wears an eyepatch and has several teeth missing, which the victims inexplicably bound towards convinced that sooner or later they're going to pick the right card. It's clearly not a lottery, so please desist from saying it, will you? And how can people who spot themselves on the video screen during the penalty shoot-out cheerily wave and smile? Penalty shoot-outs are torture by any other name; how can they jig about in such an apparently carefree way? (Although, in this instance, most of them were Portuguese and presumably quite serene about what was about to happen.)

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go back to the beginning, where Gary's on hand to provide us with lots of items to boost our confidence, except, er, the first one includes clips of the losses in 2002 and 2004 and all those games which England have been terrible in so far. Cheers, then. "The nation expects" proclaims Gary, tempting a punch, and he introduces the regular England match punditry line up. "They've got the players, they've got the support" suggests Hansen, scar oddly more prominent than usual; Shearer enthuses about England's "massive names" (you can insert your own Venegoor of Hesselink joke here, if you like); Wright is convinced that they've got "a lot more to offer than Portugal".

Yeah, I know. The problem with writing this up now is that everything is laced with deliciously bitter irony, not least Shearer's suggestion, backed up by Motson and Lawrenson, that Lampard "has to score eventually". Not that this is confined to the England analysis, with the inevitable discussion of Scolari's genius when it comes to substitutions being horribly undermined by him later bringing on Viana and Postiga, apparently on the basis that introducing players who were absolutely awful when they played in the Premier League worked the last time. Fortunately, for me anyway, nobody's developed a fatal strain of irony, as otherwise Shearer's assertion that English players would never try to get opponents sent off in the way Ronaldo did would have resulted in a dreadfully messy overdose. But we're getting ahead of ourselves again.

The hour of pre-match build up proves conclusively that nobody in their right mind needs an hour of pre-match build up. Ray Stubbs gets to interview Franz Beckenbauer, and manages to get through it without mentioning overworked helicopters. Then, oh Christ, it's Ricky Gervais, doing a hilarious skit about Peter Crouch or something. (If the price we have to pay for England going out is that we don't get to see Ricky Gervais' face for the rest of the tournament, then that's a price I'm almost willing to pay.) This is followed by what appears to be a feature on metatarsals and, just when it looks safe to turn the sound up again, another good omen from Gary. A clip from 1966. Oh good. Might forget what 1966 looks like if we're not careful. "The Portugese have captured the British public" announces David Coleman; I thought that was North Korea? How many teams captured the British public in 1966, exactly? And why have I never seen Gordon Banks' horrible, illusion-shattering flap for Portugal's consolation before? (Probably because I missed the relevant part of ITV's 1966 series, I suppose.) Ray interviews Alan Ball, who suggests that this is going to be "the biggest scrap of their lives", presumably having enjoyed Germany and Argentina's as much as the rest of us. Ian Wright suggests that Ball should take the half-time team talk, proof that he's not a fan of Manchester City/Portsmouth/insert your favourite Ball managerial disaster here.

In the tunnel we get to see the England team apparently being checked for jewellry by the fourth (or possibly fifth) official, before Beckham warmly greets Figo and, uh oh, Rooney and Ronaldo share a joke. Yeah, I know, irony-o-meter off the scale, not my fault, honest.

England start promisingly, a free kick in what Motson deems "Beckham territory", ie anywhere inside the opposition half, causing a brief moment of excitement, but then the game settles down into a terrifyingly dull pattern, Portugal passing the ball amongst themselves but not really looking as if they know how to get around the England defence, England unable to string more than three passes together. It takes six minutes for the first mention of the temperature (hot, you'll be surprised to learn): "I don't want to bore everyone about this" says Lawrenson, about 48 matches too late. "All a bit nervy" suggests Motson, before deciding to chide the referee for being "very pernickity on England tackles" over a replay of Owen Hargreaves kicking someone. "That's my word" adds Lawrenson, clearly unaware that all words belong to Susie Dent off of Countdown. Switzerland-Ukraine is slowly but surely put into a whole new light; this game must be at least as bad as that one, if not worse, and yet this one is horribly compelling. Maybe if you were Swiss or Ukrainian that game was actually the most enthralling two hours of the tournament and it was terribly unfair for anyone to suggest otherwise?

Half time. Hansen lays into the system, Shearer complains about lack of spark. Given goodness knows how many misplaced passes to choose from, the team naturally focus upon those of Owen Hargreaves. Alan Ball is called upon for his half time team talk; this seems to focus on the need for Gary Neville to shout at people. "They're there for the taking" says Ball, without suggesting how that might happen.

For seventeen minutes the only thing the second half has to recommend it over the first is that at least this one features Beckham blubbing away on the sideline and the occasional close-up of Aaron Lennon, allowing us to marvel at his bushy eyebrows, before... "look at Rooney battling for the ball... now, that's right under the nose of the referee, and there's a bit of angst here... the referee's gone to his pocket IT'S RED HE'S SENT ROONEY OFF". Lawro calls it as being for the stamp before we see the replay; "left foot between the legs" suggests Motson over the sort of shot that usually has commentators chuckling about the victim checking that everything's still there. "It's difficult to sum up the last few minutes. It's all gone horribly wrong on the surface" says Motson, as if to suggest that in fact the bit where the player who's scored or set up half the goals was injured and the one striker was sent off may be part of a deep-seated tactical masterplan that will become apparent at any minute.

And maybe it is, because even though the game returns to something closely resembling its previous turgid state, only with Portugal having more of the ball but still not looking dangerous, England actually look quite decent in patches, Crouch proving better at holding the ball than Rooney and Lennon being able to skip past defenders apparently at will. Motty tries to liven things up by tempting fate. "I don't want to send out bad signals" he says as Postiga replaces Figo as per 2004; surely it's a bit late for that at this stage?

Full time. Suddenly everyone is full of praise for Owen Hargreaves and his amazing engine. All of the talk seems to be of holding on for penalties, as if somehow the minor problem of England being absolutely useless at them has passed everyone by. The game restarts but things continue much as before. Postiga's goal is ruled out for offside: "Can you imagine the whole of Britain?" says Lawro, as if in private conversation (and forgetting the likely reaction in at least three countries). A brief moment of panic ensues when Robinson appears to flap at the ball; as he points out on the replay that actually it was quite well left, Motson suddenly sounds terribly tired. Jamie Carragher comes on to take a penalty. Jamie Carragher?

Ian Wright inexplicably suggests that "I think our time's come", which doesn't seem to be based on anything other than England having played quite well since the sending off. I can't actually read my notes on the penalties, and there's no way I'm watching the things again, but memory suggests that Lampard's miss was inevitable; Hargreaves just about disproved Hansen's theory, as related by Adrian Chiles the previous evening after Ayala's miss, that the best player never scores in the shoot-out; Gerrard looked as if he was about to burst into tears as he approached the ball, let alone afterwards, and with that any momentum from Viana and Petit's misses was lost; and after his curious taking of one while everyone was looking the other way, Carragher's miss seemed as likely as Lampard's. England lose on penalties; Ian Wright, among absolutely nobody else whatsoever, is surprised.

Once the bemoaning of penalties and nasty cheating foreigners getting players sent off, we'd never do that, oh no, is done with there's much wailing and gnashing of teeth about another England failure. Hansen tells us about all the great players the manager had at his disposal, and how he's at a loss to explain why they've performed so poorly. He bangs on and on about it all being down to the system, but in which way did the system stop all of these apparently great players managing simple passes to each other in the first 62 minutes of the game? Wouldn't really great players have adapted to the system, or shaped the system to suit their own games, or taken the initiative to change the system? Is there perhaps a more obvious answer lurking under our noses that nobody seems willing to acknowledge, that the reason these great players have been so relentlessly average is that actually they aren't nearly as great as they've been made out to be? Oh, so they all look good in the Premiership, but could it be that in the Premiership their non-English teammates are vastly better than the players that they play with for England and without them they're really rather ordinary? Just a theory.

Plusses. Aaron Lennon looks a terrific player. Only a fool would question why Owen Hargreaves should be in the squad. The rest of the tournament should be pleasingly free of angst, and you won't have to listen to the half-baked opinions of a lot of idiots once Monday morning is out of the way. And the next time England play, they'll be under the excitingly brand new, nothing like the old, regime of managerial bright young thing Steve McLa... oh, shit.

What we've learned: What, apart from not to trust Ian Wright's instincts? Well, probably best to come back and ask in two or four years' time, but my money's on "nothing much, to be honest".

Italy v Ukraine, BBC1

2006-07-01T19:04:00.000+01:00

"The World Cup first timers against the country that's been there, seen it, done it, bought the referee. Allegedly." Ooh, he's off already, is Gary, even if you could argue it's not exactly the most tasteful statement after Pessotto's fall. The opening montage riffs on 'Italy has...' and 'Ukraine has...' in terms of history and achievement, so understandably it's more solid on the former. The highlights from earlier are, obviously, most worthwhile when we get to the ruckus, especially Mick McCarthy's almost gleeful "the big defender, 17, has had a big altercation...he's kicked him right in the groin!" While Alan ruefully recalls how he thought he could at last write off the Germans Leonardo attributes it to "a big mistake of the coach". Interestingly Hansen isn't keen on the potential of Italy-Germany, leaving Gary to pick up the pieces as best he dare with "don't completely write it off, just before the World Cup (in a friendly) it was....0-0". Martin's hoping Ukraine can come good on the night as last time "they bored the pants off everybody", imagining the coach cajoling "for heaven's sake, let's give it a go".

"You may see some empty seats" admits Pearce, all but blaming people staying in the fan parks. Well, you would at those prices. Oddly Mark Bright reckons the earlier result was "the biggest upset" of the competition, not stating whether this could threaten it. After six minutes, that looks very unlikely. "Zambrotta...ah. It's in!" Pearce is seemingly genuinely surprised to see it hit the net, while Bright's only thought is "I'm not sure the positioning was right here", adding on the replay "for me he should have been pushing that round the post". Mark still sees Ukraine as having possibilities here, suggesting "they need to draw Italy out, play some balls to feet", but nobody there looks even remotely like doing so. Pearce takes the time to pass on crucial information - "a John Terry fan, is Rusol" - and wonder if "they'll talk for years and years" about the penalty against Australia. They're barely talking about it now, Jonathan. He then finds a new bugbear as Totti goes down "crumpled at the feet of Rusol - I wonder if the new pitch was to blame there." It's not something he ever seems to return to, largely because the game is as stagnant as you'd expect Italy against Ukraine would be when the former have gone one up very early. "They've got no idea how to break Italy down whatsoever" surmises Bright, who goes on to find amusement in painkilling spray, remarking "what's that? Looks like dry ice!" "Italy have not looked in any danger" is how Pearce sums up the first 45 minutes.

"Don't you just love it when the Italians take an early lead?" Gary wryly leads before pointing out what we can see behind him: "it's not very good, but what a beautiful sunset behind us!" "That's the highlight, that sunset" Alan agrees as everyone ascertains that it could have been better, let's say. Leonardo at least points out the extra space the Italian midfield are being given, but O'Neill's off on one, countering "you can do what you want when you play against the Ukrainians", describing their performance as so listless "their plane must be parked up on the tarmac outside the ground". He then really loses it trying to mark out the great Italian cliche, telling all "in another life I wish I'd been born in Rome or Naples...Pompey thought 'hey, we'll invent the offside here'", disappearing on his own tangents and ending with "what are we on about?" as Leonardo valiantly tries to pick him up on his defensiveness suggestions while Alan seemingly wonders where he is. "I hate to drag you away from this game..." Gary reassures us before the long plugged on the BBC website blog England/Germany take on the Renault Clio ad starring Adrian Chiles and some woman. News then comes through of Jose Pekerman's resignation, enabling Gary to use a line he must have been dying to get in since the tournament started: "the former taxi driver earned a reported £100,000 a year but could have earned double that if he'd been prepared to go south of the river". No reaction in the studio, obviously. We then get shots from Kiev city centre, Gary interpreting some flares as "seems like someone might have started a fire there" and predicting, oddly, "Ukraine is about to get its first open top bus ride". "I'd just like to see Buffon make one save" is Alan's hope for the second half.

At least Jonathan and Mark get early entertainment as Cannavaro kicked down - "Hit him in the face?" "Not quite!" "Hoo hoo hoo!" "That'll be a couple of minutes" Bright perhaps too accurately guesses. Indeed, they even get a Ukrainian attack soon enough, Pearce exclaiming "Buffon *has* had to make a save, and he's hurt himself in doing so". It's not good enough to stop his reminding us of Shevchenko's pre-tournament odds for the Golden Boot, summarising "I think that's Freddie Shevchenko who plays for Truro". Soon Ukraine nearly make him think again, Pearce having to admit "Italy living dangerously!" after a double save, but within a couple of minutes "far post, it was in there...and Luca Toni! Gets his goal!" It's commemorated by Pearce almost as well as an England goal, Bright instead cautioning "you should never be that side as a defender". "How close is he behind Klose now, for top scorer? Too far" is Pearce's still waspish thought, Bright still cautious that "at 1-0 you're never out of it", but soon enough it's 3-0, "a cruise into the semi-finals" according to Bright. "There was really only one team in this" is how Pearce finishes off.

Even Alan is relatively interested when we go back to the studio, Martin providing a handy summary that "it's not the best Italy team in a World Cup but it doesn't matter, they're doing well enough". Leonardo is quietly impressed, even remarking "it's Italian style - I like that" over footage of Totti throwing a water bottle at his colleague. You'd think he played there or something. "You have to fancy the Germans - they're on a roll" is what Hansen still reckons before we finish on England and an odd lengthy slo-mo England closing montage which uses Rufus Wainwright's version of Hallelujah and Joy Division's Atmosphere. Cheery, then.

Germany v Argentina, ITV1

2006-06-30T23:38:00.000+01:00

Goal of the match: Germany's equaliser was the pick of the pair. Michael Ballack swung the ball in from the left and substitute Tim Borowski cleverly flicked on for Miroslav Klose to apply the finish with his head. Despite not having a sniff otherwise, Klose and his predatory instincts weren't to be denied, as he increased his tally for the tournament to five.

Shot of the match: Disappointingly few decent shots in a game of disappointingly few goal attempts, but Fabricio Coloccini's lofted effort (which might well have been a mishit cross) momentarily troubled Jens Lehmann, bouncing off the top of his crossbar.

Pass of the match: Juan Roman Riquelme's precision corner for Roberto Ayala's headed goal. Riquelme may have looked off the pace, but Jose Pekerman paid dearly for his decision to withdraw his string-puller midway through the second period, and Hernan Crespo with fifteen minutes of normal time left.

Miss of the match: Ballack, who planted a header wide from Bernd Schneider's chipped cross in what was far and away the best bit of play of a turgid first period.

Man of the match: No one outstanding player, but for Germany Torsten Frings was excellent, while substitutes Borowski and especially marauding winger David Odonkor were key in picking up the pace of the game and swinging things the hosts' way. For Argentina, Ayala kept Klose very quiet as well as scoring (though he was also one of two players to miss in the shoot-out), and Carlos Tevez worked extremely hard up front without any reward. He looks and plays like a pitbull, and that scar on his neck suggests his involvement in illicit dog-fighting in the back rooms of Buenos Aires pubs.

He was playing?!: Klose did very little other than score, and Luis Gonzales offered few clues as to why he was selected ahead of Esteban Cambiasso in the Argentinian starting line-up.

The Arjen Robben Award For Shameless Diving: Plenty of candidates. Arne Friedrich was perhaps most worthy, getting Juan Pablo Sorin the booking that would have ruled him out of the semi-final. But Ballack went down clutching his face theatrically, and even Maxi Rodriguez, arguably Argentina's best performer throughout the tournament, stooped to that level, picking up a yellow card for a contact-free tumble in the box.

The Nobel Peace Prize: Oliver Kahn was captured on camera offering rival Jens Lehmann words of encouragement prior to the shoot-out, and the pair embraced at the conclusion. Come on now - it was much more entertaining when you were at each other's throats. Speaking of which...

The Alex Ferguson / Jose Mourinho Award For Being Sore And Utterly Graceless Losers: Argentina. No need for the stupid bout of fisticuffs that tarnished their considerable contribution to this year's tournament, whatever Oliver Bierhoff may or may not have said. Rodriguez and Gabriel Heinze were particularly at fault in the extraordinary melee.

Separated at birth: Is it just me, or does Jurgen Klinsmann's right hand man Joachim Low look like Kyle MacLachlan?

Player who most resembles a boxer punched who's been punched in both eyes: Philipp Lahm.

The Three Musketeers: Frings, Sorin and Crespo should give up this football malarkey and join forces. They certainly look the part.

Face in the crowd: Lots of face-painted Germans and a few Argentinian beauties who would have had Lineker, Shearer, Leonardo etc breathing deeply. Surprisingly, no shots of Maradona, the man Steve Rider labels "a sort of one man Argentinian Barmy Army".

Stat attack: The seven World Cup Finals goals scored against Argentina prior to Rafael Marquez's shot for Mexico in the second round were scored by players who either at the time, before or since played for Premiership sides: Alan Shearer, Michael Owen, Patrick Kluivert, Dennis Bergkamp, David Beckham, Anders Svensson and Didier Drogba.

The kiss of death: Rider's opening gambit turned out to be wide of the mark: "Congratulations - you've survived two days without World Cup football. Here's your reward". Even more likely to ensure the mouthwatering tie was a damp squib was the montage which promised a feast of goals - and spectacular ones at that.

The words I dreaded to hear: "So, David Pleat..." "Afternoon everybody" followed soon afterwards.

The David Pleat Adjective Generator: Tevez - "squat"; Javier Mascherano - "vigorous, quick"; Borowski - "elegant, long-striding"; Odonkor - "forceful, progressive"; Riquelme - "smooth". Pleat also memorably described gangly Bambi-legged German centre-back Per Mertesacker as sometimes looking "like an uncoordinated spider".

The David Pleat Award For Idiosyncratic Pronunciation: Credit to the man himself for finding at least three different ways to say Heinze's name.

What's in a name?: Ally McCoist referred to "Thomas Ballack" before hastily adding "or Michael Ballack if you want". Yes, we DO want, Ally - you haven't earned the right to call players what you want.

Learning the lingo: Pleat spent some time explaining the concept of a "round-the-corner ball" (I'm still pretty much none the wiser) and Peter Drury invented the word "unknockdownable" to describe Tevez (perhaps you could also say he's got "bouncebackability", eh?). Best of all, though, was Pleat's comment in response to the revelation that Argentina were enjoying significantly superior possession: "But it's in much-ado-about-nothing land".

Graphically illustrated: Hurrah! At last one of ITV's arrow graphics proved useful. At the break McCoist and Andy Townsend claimed that both Riquelme and Ballack had been disappointing in the success rate of their passing in forward areas, and lo and behold the graphic actually proved the point rather well. A first time for everything etc etc.

A blast from the past: Drury compared Klinsmann's bounding celebration of his side's equaliser to "the Luton Town manager at Maine Road a few years ago - chap named Pleat". Klinsmann didn't skip onto the pitch like a frolicking and gambolling lamb though.

Boultingwatch: No more interviews with clueless American servicemen and drunken Aussies in fan parks for our Ned, it seems. Instead he was entrusted with pre-match reports on Ballack and Argentina, as well as delivering a live history lesson on the Olympiastadion.

If I had a pound...: ... for every time McCoist began a sentence "The thing I like about him / them is...", every time the word "efficiency" cropped up in connection with the Germans, and every time young Master Rooney used the words "you know" and "erm" in his interview, I'd be a very rich man.

You what?!: Discussing Tevez's "unknockdownability", Pleat claimed he's "like a little metronome". Hmm, you really don't have a clue what a metronome is, do you David? Meanwhile, commenting on the Argentinian teamsheet prior to kick-off, McCoist said "I would have maybe liked chocolate sauce on it" before offering an explanation of sorts: "I'd have liked to have seen Messi in".

Level of interest shown in match at hand: A superb game in prospect, and yet within seven minutes of the coverage starting we were whisked off to a Matt Smith interview with Michael Owen. And then a Gabriel Clarke feature including Ray Winstone: Motivational Speaker and that Rooney interview. At least Rider appreciated the tangent - "Let's not forget that that game's tomorrow. There's a big game today" - and the focus from then on was on Germany and Argentina.

Most bizarre moment of coverage: The footage of the Argentinian squad singing and bouncing around on their coach, held up before the game as an example of the team spirit in the camp. Sam Allardyce was interested to know what the song was, presumably so he can blast it out in the Bolton dressing room next season. 'Let's Get Ready To Rumble' by PJ & Duncan, Sam - magic.

What we learned: Like your average child actor Argentina had incredible potential and promise but squandered it in spectacular fashion (buggering up my predictions in the process); Jose Pekerman can go back to driving taxis with a fund of tales of woe with which to regale his punters; Germany march on like an efficient winning machine as though their name may be written on the trophy after all.

Spain v France, ITV1

2006-06-30T04:51:00.000+01:00

Steve Rider promises us "some of the most glittering talent in the game on show tonight, including Terry Venables and Ruud Gullit ready to enjoy the feast that lies ahead." Yes, whatever. A tribute to Zinedine Zidane to start with, ITV clearly backing Spain for the win tonight. "Hannover stages a European summit," suggests tonight's commentator Clive Tyldesley. "Is it too early for Spain, or too late for France?" Today's inevitable weather check suggests it's a cooler evening than of late, but Tyldesley surprisingly has little to say before kick off. "So many household names...even in British households. Our children are almost as familiar with Zidane and Raul as they are with Rooney and Beckham..." The Spanish fans are caught out by a peculiar remix of their national anthem, which takes some doing seeing as it's instrumental. Franz Beckenbauer's first appearance at the stadium is during the French anthem, which
must frustrate Tyldesley as he has to be quiet and thus can't make some comic reference to worn-out helicopters or Air Miles.

Tyldesley suggests to David Pleat as we kick-off that whoever wins tonight will be a match for Brazil. Pleat agrees, audibly stumbling as he tries and fails to slip in a sly "evening everybody", and is torn between the two sides. "My head says Spain, my heart says France - and I'm going with my heart tonight, Clive." Pleat doesn't want to see a mismatch tonight, specifically hoping for no early baths.
"Everything points to a move to England," notes Clive as we get our first sight of Fernando Torres on the ball. "Manchester United reputedly at the front of the queue if they can find the £20 million plus that it will need to prise him away." Subtle hint to Sir Alex, maybe?
A moment of confusion after 5 minutes. The referee originally gives a corner after pressure from Thierry Henry forces Sergio Ramos to boot the ball out. We see a replay of Henry applauding the long goal kick from Barthez which gave him his chance, then Zidane preparing to take the corner. Now the referee begins whistling like mad, causing Zidane to look confused and point to himself whilst the referee runs up to Henry and shakes him by the hand. He then gestures for Zidane to give him the ball, then applauds as Zidane runs up to him in bemusement, leaving the ball on the corner spot. "Well, the decision's been reversed - it's not a corner, and he's
given handball against Henry on his assistant's say so. I don't know who was closer!" A very bizarre turn of events, with a sadly lackadaisical commentary. Still, it's worth a mention.
Tyldesley informs us that Spain have never beaten France in a competitive international, although their record is 11-10 in all competitions. "If you're a student of the game, you'll know that Luis Aragones is the coach of Spain," he explains, carefully avoiding any reference to the Spanish coach's infamous "black shit" comment aimed at Thierry Henry. "24 matches in charge of his country - no defeats..."
Henry suddenly breaks down the right wing and pulls a low cross back: "Ribery's there, and Vieira's there - and neither can get a decisive touch! There was a chance for each of them, it was a devil of a ball across the face of goal by Thierry Henry..."

"Ooh, he's given it!" Clive is caught by surprise as the referee awards Spain a penalty after Thuram barges into the back of Pablo, clipping his heel in the process. See if you can spot the point at which the replay forces Tyldesley to subtly change his opinion in mid-flow: "Seemed to go down in stages to me! Right on the edge of the penalty area, running away from goal, going nowhere...Thuram caught his standing foot, no doubt about it. Good decision!"
David Villa puts the penalty right in the left corner out of Barthez's reach, "and from a pretty soft penalty award, jubilation for Spain! They break the deadlock!" We see a babe in arms in the Spanish crowd being kissed by its mother. "Ah, bless," coos Clive.
Willy Sagnol charges forward with the ball, only to be tackled by Xavi when he takes one touch too many instead of passing to various teammates in better positions. Pleat suggests that that Sagnol was waiting for Henry to make a move, but Henry "made that expression we have seen before from him which suggests 'No I wanted that pass earlier!'" What expression is that, then?
Clive plugs ITV's two quarter-finals, instructing us to "take the next two days off".
As France are caught offside for the 5th time in the half, David thinks France are playing the ball forwards too quickly. Spotters badge for Pleat, I'd say. He goes on to suggest they need someone to "thread a ball through, slide a ball through..." Clive points out that "they do have the best slider and threader the world has seen in the last 10 years or so wearing their captain's armband tonight." In fact, it turns out to be Vieira who slides and/or threads the decisive ball through as Ribery beats the offside trap and Casillas, "and France are on terms! This team of veteran World Cup winners have one bright young spark in their ranks and he has equalised!" "He went round the goalkeeper like an experienced old head!" agrees Pleat.
"Oh, you don't want the half time whistle to come now! The game's been really sparked!" is Clive's oblique reference as the last few minutes of the half are action-packed. "Vieira - there's one for March, mate! Crashes into Cesc Fabregas!"

"He plays with the ball, Zidane - it's a toy to him!" purrs Clive as the second half begins. "I think Zidane's as gifted a footballer as I've witnessed in the time I've been watching the game. He'll be missed, a precious talent."
Clive declares that the half time whistle was a "nuisance" as the game was bubbling along in the final 5 minutes of the half, and that the opening 5 of the second half are just as cautious as the opening minutes of the match.
"No love lost perhaps between the Arsenal and the Barca man," understates Pleat as Henry clatters into Puyol. "'Remember me, Paris?'" smiles Clive.
Raul is substituted (cue the director showing Puyol helping Casillas put on the captain's armband, in the hope that it will be as widely replayed as the similar incident during the Iran-Angola match), and Clive relays the anecdote that this is the first time the Spanish captain has played an international match on his birthday - "because we're usually out by now!"
Clive's got a story: "Florent Malouda missed the opening game because of what was described by the French officials as a 'mystery injury problem', and when he was quizzed about it on his return for the second game, he said 'I've had an operation for haemorrhoids'. Just came straight out with it - where's the embarrassment? 'We've been trying to keep it quiet for you!' 'Nah, it's no problem!'"

"We've not had a yellow card yet! Isn't this great?" observes Clive, midway through the second half. "I think he's got a blunt pencil which is wonderful really after what we've seen recently," agrees David. Precisely 22 seconds later, Vieira goes in too strongly on Fabregas (who else?), and the commentator's curse has struck yet again, this time causing Clive to make promises he can't keep. "Sorry! Tell you what, I'll say nothing else all night, that's it! Turn the sound down! Sorry Patrick, my fault!" Clive suspects you couldn't get a bet tonight on Vieira receiving a caution for a foul on his Highbury successor.
Aragones is shown screaming on the sidelines after Vieira caught Torres in the face whilst trying to hold him off. Vieira is shown holding his finger to his lips, presumably in the direction of the Spanish bench. "I think the conversation is between Vieira and Aragones - I wouldn't want to come between those two!" chuckles Clive, as the referee tells the coach to sit down. "He's allowed to stand there, he's in his technical area!" protests Tyldesley, before suggesting Aragones looks like "an old fight trainer, a corner man!"
Fabien Barthez punches the ball clear ("in his own inimitable fashion") from a Spanish corner. "He looks about 5 feet 5 sometimes, Barthez, with the big men of both teams gathered around him." opines Tyldesley, "he comes out almost like an enthusiastic child and punches clear!" "I think he watched Bruce Grobbelaar when he was young!" suggests Pleat.
"It's not a head injury!" observes Clive as we see a replay of Gallas blocking a shot from Senna via his genitalia. A female medic attempts to strap the stricken Gallas onto the stretcher a little too close to the affected region for comfort. "They always laugh, don't they? Apart from the guy who's actually hurt. Even the physio just had a little smile there at the linesman - 'he got one there in the...you know. He's all right...' It's no joke for Gallas, I can tell you!" With both this tirade and a similar one when Dwight Yorke took one in the breadbasket during England-Trinidad, it would appear that Clive's auditioning for a testicular awareness gig, or something. A lesser man than me might suggest he's renowned for talking bollocks...
Speaking of which, here's classic Tyldesley: "Ten more minutes - tense more minutes!" Puyol blocks Henry off and is booked, although the replay doesn't do Thierry many favours. "Why has Henry held his face? He's been elbowed in the chest, it's a foul, he's got a free kick, and he is trying to con the referee to get a man sent off. It's got to stop!" "It's the rules of the modern game Clive, we saw it the other evening where a game was traumatically spoiled..." "Thierry Henry is a great player, that was not a great moment of his career..."
Zidane takes the resulting free kick, which Xabi Alonso can only partially get his head to. The ball loops up into the area, and "it's been forced in! It's Patrick Vieira! Scored on his birthday in the last game, he will celebrate that one even more if it turns out to be the difference! Maybe the last laugh on Cesc Fabregas for Patrick Vieira!"
Spain throw the kitchen sink at France in the closing minutes looking for an equaliser, but are inevitably caught on the break. "And Zinedine Zidane is onside, with a chance to put it away here for France. It's Zidane.........yes! The great man has put the seal on it, his career will go on, and he will face Brazil - yes Brazil - the team he scored twice against in the World Cup final in Paris on Saturday night, and it doesn't get much better than that, even in the career of Zinedine Zidane!" Pleat is happy that his prediction at kick-off has been accurate: "sometimes your heart does rule your head!" "France go into the quarter-finals! They tried to bury them last week but they've rolled away the stone and the champions of 1998 will go on to try to win the World Cup again!"

Ruud is disgusted with Henry's reaction that won the free kick, seemingly ignoring that Puyol's elbow was definitely worthy of conceding a foul regardless. Venables suggests Henry will suffer himself tonight, which seems ominous. Steve suggests that Brazil v France will be all the better now both sides are beginning to improve. Terry would just like to say (tenuously) that if France can improve after a poor start, then perhaps England can do the same. Steve closes as he began: "The World Cup remains a cruel competition for Spain, but France go on, and that means Zidane goes on as well, and that's no bad thing."

What we've learned: Rumours of Zidane's demise are very much exaggerated, although Spain didn't exactly mark him tightly; Henry's copybook has been blotted after the most high-profile playacting since Rivaldo in the last World Cup; and I'm off to Germany in 30 minutes time. See you next week, folks...

A loose end

2006-06-28T13:54:00.000+01:00

For the first time since 9th June, a day without any World Cup football whatsoever. And doesn't it feel strange? What are we going to do with ourselves?

Come back Switzerland v Ukraine, all is forgiven!

Roll on Friday...

Brazil v Ghana, ITV1

2006-06-28T10:09:00.000+01:00

Goal of the match: It has to be Ronaldo's record-breaking 15th goal in World Cup Finals. Barely five minutes had elapsed when, with the Ghanaian back four high up the pitch totally out of sync with each other, Kaka slipped the ball easily through to the big-boned frontman, who went past 'keeper Richard Kingson with some neat footwork and rolled the ball into the empty net to edge ahead of Gerd Muller's tally of 14.

Shot of the match: Haminu Draman's shooting was generally rash and wasteful, in keeping with that of his team-mates, but he did force Dida to tip over one ferocious shot in the first half.

Miss of the match: Ghana squandered countless opportunities, but the most culpable was probably centre-back John Mensah, who should have scored with a header from point-blank range when left unmarked from a corner. Credit though to Dida, who instinctively flung out a leg to deflect the ball away.

Save of the match: After Asamoah Gyan's second yellow card, the Black Stars ran out of steam, and it was only Kingson who kept the score down, pulling off excellent stops from Ronaldo, Cafu, Juan and even his own team-mate John Paintsil, whose misdirected header nearly crept over the line.

Man of the match: It pains me to agree with Robbie Earle, but Ze Roberto was excellent and thoroughly deserved his goal. In the first period, though, Ghana's Sulley Muntari was superb, a real torment to the Brazilians, and captain Stephen Appiah was energetic and inspirational throughout.

He was playing?!!: Emerson. Well off the pace even before picking up his injury and being replaced, he was instrumental in allowing Ghana to seize the first half initiative.

Manager most likely to be mistaken for George W Bush: Carlos Alberto Parreira.

The Robert De Niro "You Talkin' To Me?" Award For Tough Talking: Radomir Dujkovic in his pre-match press conference: "They [Ghana] are not afraid of nobody".

Blast from the past: Former Leeds striker Tony Yeboah, interviewed before the match, was the Ghanaian team's "Mr Motivator". Visions of him in lycra and pop socks getting Appiah and co to do star jumps came to mind.

Face in the crowd: It's a shame we're not going to get to see the Ghana fan who carries a massive pot on his head anymore.

Most bizarre moment of the match: Gyan's head-first tumble onto the six yard line in the first period left him with white face paint on one side only.

Stat attack: Plenty to dwell on. Before the game, Ghana had had more counter-attacks than any other side in the tournament (27) - but this begs the question of how exactly you determine what constitutes a counter-attack? More concrete was the fact that Ghana used a grand total of five coaches and 80 players in reaching the Finals, and that the match marked Brazilian captain Cafu's 19th World Cup appearance, a new national record.

Minutes elapsed before mention was made of Ronaldinho playing "with a smile on his face": 38 minutes into the coverage (Ally McCoist). During the commentary it was Cafu who Peter Drury singled out for smiling, while Ronaldinho by contrast was very definitely not smiling when his captain opted not to pass to him late on in the game.

Minutes elapsed before Drury suggested it was a David v Goliath encounter: Less than three ("It is the mightiest and the humblest").

Patronised to within an inch of their plucky little lives: The last of the African teams left in the competition? Go to work, men! Most glaring was Jim Beglin's "Well done Ghana. This is a good little response now". By the 44th minute he'd had to concede that Ghana were the better team. Meanwhile, following his David-and-Goliathisms, Drury was forced to admit with evident surprise: "They are turning this into a proper match".

Guess who?: I turned on fifteen minutes into the coverage to hear the pundits discussing someone who has thus far looked unfit, overweight, lethargic and disspirited. Hmm.

It's just like watching Brazil: Drury: "It rather sums up Brazil that the man offside was their centre-half". Said centre-half Juan later put in a brief shift on the left wing...

The Jon Champion Award For Overstatement: Drury claimed that "the word itself [Brazil] is everything you desire in a football match". Beglin later balanced it out by pondering aloud: "I'm just thinking that maybe we expect too much of them".

A pat on the back: Beglin was quick to point out that the Ghanaians were defending dangerously high up the pitch, and took every goal as the opportunity to pat himself on the back: "The way they're set up defensively doesn't make sense - that's what's undone them".

Fight! Fight! Fight!: It all got a bit heated at the break, with Andy Townsend seemingly ready to take on a tag team of Earle and McCoist in the car park over who was at fault for Brazil's opening goal. A far cry from the laddish bonhomie of the BBC studio.

Most bizarre moment of the coverage: The footage of Appiah greeting the Brazilian players in the tunnel prior to warming up - for some reason, Adriano responded with a firm squeeze of the Ghanaian skipper's left arsecheek. After his comments the previous evening, it would have been interesting to know what Shearer made of it - and Clive "Men Holding Hands Disturbs Me" Tyldesley too...

Level of interest shown in game at hand: High, by ITV's usual standards. But then it was Brazil. Even then, there was a lengthy portion of the pre-match hour given over to England, with a Joe Cole interview and (mercifully) the last in their series about 1966, culminating in footage from the final worth seeing again primarily for Bobby Charlton's spectacular comb-over. Gabby also tried a Lineker-esque comedy line in response to Townsend: "You say the players may be bothered about missing their families. All they have to do is open the red tops...".

What we learned: Brazil are probably more clinical and ruthless than they are pretty to watch, and they'll be tough to beat; mobile or not, Porky Ronaldo is a threat; with better finishing, more luck, eleven men on the pitch and Michael Essien in the side, Ghana could quite easily have won, despite all their defensive shortcomings; England's third goal against West Germany in the 1966 World Cup Final was a bit controversial.

Portugal v Holland, ITV

2006-06-27T22:37:00.000+01:00

Don't know if it's showing or not, but circumstances mean I'm running behind on these. Well, it's not as if it's my own blog or anything. So, let's cut corners and do this remarkable game in unsatisfactory bullet point form:

- England to begin with, obviously. Owen Hargreaves interviewed next to the press room window. Gabby promises "a little bit more on England later, but England are through", and indeed straight after a short package of "two of Europe's most beautiful teams" we do more on England, namely a close-up - close-up! With warning, but still - of Beckham vomiting, then a question to Terry on how England should play in the quarter finals.

- "It wouldn't be the same if the Dutch didn't have problems!" laughs Ruud. 1994, anyone? He's just given enough time to say he thinks it'll be a win for "Holland, but it's going to be a tight gam..." before being cut off mid-flow by Gabby so she can hand to Clive and David.

- "Who is going to spend the next six nights losing sleep about England? No, I know. Who's going to spend the next six days worrying about England, then." David is so surprised by the question "who would you prefer to play?" - essentially "who's the worst team in this game?" - that he forgets to greet the viewers. "I don't honestly think it matters a great deal" Clive sportingly sums up.

- 4-3-3 has apparently been "written in Dutch stone for years".

- "The referee is being a bit card happy for me in these early stages" David presciently claims.

- "Who's he trying to kid?...and there's a yellow card being shown, I think, to Maniche!" Yes, Clive, it's in a great big closeup.

- "Pauleta, trying to set up Maniiiiiche...yes!" "Hopefully it's got the makings of a classic now" he sums up.

- Clive's brought his notes with him, and "I've got a lot of guff here that I won't bore you with" on the new ball. His main concern is Ronaldo's injury, concernedly remarking "I don't remember seeing that strapping going on" as he goes down again and asking "how quickly will that heal?"

- "He's the poor man's Makelele. I mean no disrespect for that, Makelele was magnificent." Was?

- Tyldesley finishes the first half wondering about sin bins, while Gabby sums up the culture of both sides as "two sets of fans who know about partying".

- Terry reckons the first Costinha booking is "like coming out of Swan Lake or something here". Gabby's amended her line of questioning now: "Which of those teams could England beat more easily?"

- "11 against 10 is rarely a spectacle"? It's nearly not that at all - "ooh, Luis Figo has thrown his head there at Mark Van Bommel" Clive states "I would be very surprised to see Luis Figo" in the next game if there is one, as it's "not in itself a hugely damaging action but not an action we want to see on the field" But... "It's a yellow card for Figo and if the referee's seen it..." even though the footage just shown disproves that.

- "Oh, wait a minute..." and ten against ten as we cut to lots of holding on the touchline, Pleat inevitably seeing "the ugly side of the beautiful game".

- "It's not Craig Bellamy's brother, it's Johnny Heitinga".

- "Usually a bit noisier and more optimistic than that, the Dutch fans" - how can you gauge optimism from sound?

- Carvalho "has loose moments in him", apparently, and there's a very loose one now as he's grounded. "It wasn't a head injury, by the looks of it. No, it definitely wasn't a head injury. He'll live."

- "I'm not one to see players sent off unnecessarily..." "It's not Sneijer, is it? Is it?" "Hope you're keeping score here" David hopes. I'm sure Pleat refers to the ref's position as 'invidious' at this stage, but he's certainly "made a rod for his own back".

- "It's so vital now that Portugal keep calm" Clive hopes, seconds before Ricardo is booked and less than a minute before Nuno Valente goes likewise.

- "Cocu has now thrown Deco to the ground, and Cocu will be red carded... it's Deco!" Clive's entered a new phase of astonishment now, especially as Cocu was clearly not in shot. "It's my job to inform you, and I'm making more questions...I'm not sure what is occurring here". Pleat dubs it "outrageous" after Tyldesley has identified the second yellow as being for timewasting.

- Pleat audibly giggles while claiming of Kuyt "thing was, it was a terrible miss".

- Another Clive obsession, and a telling one - "a huge snub for Van Nistelrooy, as Holland are going to bring on a centre forward who's not him." Meanwhile Tiago's substitution is annulled, at which everyone seems to lose grip while Pleat elects to tell us where the fifth official is from. Said centre forward is the dream comedy name of the tournament, as Pleat spots: "Hope Vennegoor of Hesselink doesn't get booked, that's take a couple of minutes out of the game."

- "Van Bronckhorst is off! It's going to be a fourth dismissal!", relayed by Clive as if he's been personally let down. He goes on to listlessly list the records now broken before resignedly stating "who cares? it's been ridiculous". A superb cutaway has him almost in awe: "look at that! The two Barcelona team-mates, both sent off, both blaming the referee." How does he know? He does know "the game's been allowed to get out of hand". David reckons of the ref "I think he wants this over now" as Clive reports on a keeper push that we never see.

- 1-0 is the final score, and "it's Phil Scolari again!" This appears to have already been elected the main selling point of Saturday's game.

- "Drama like I don't think any of us have ever seen" is Gabby's verdict. Tel is more circumspect, labelling it "a catastrophe". You can tell Ruud is trying to be reasonable but failing, resorting to pausing the discussion for "but...but...who's having the laugh here?" before putting his head next to that of the actually laughing Tel.

- I've never seen Gabby like this before. She's actually raging about the Figo headbutt, the yellow card award meaning "for England it's bad". Ruud interjects "so you want Figo off, Deco off..." Compassionate him then goes on to piss himself at Ronaldo crying.

- "Beware, Big Phil, hell hath no fury like a country scorned" is the illogical sign off before a montage to, obviously, Loco In Acapulco.

Argentina v Mexico, BBC1

2006-06-27T22:36:00.000+01:00

For reasons not immediately apparent, the opening montage is about Maradona. Like Thatcher, it seems his very presence dwarfs those younger and more relevant even this far along the line. Less eventually evident is why it's cut to Barry Manilow's Could It Be Magic, as summarily noted by Gary. Alongside comparative "clodhopping Celts" O'Neill and Hansen is Leonardo, Gary seemingly believing "it's always dangerous talking to Brazilians" about Argentina, so he goes straight in at the deep end and asks about Maradona, who Leonardo adjudges "sometimes a child, but always a genius". Gary's looking forward to the night's action as "after Germany, you can expect something very, very important" - at least it sounds like 'important', even if it doesn't make sense. Everyone expects Argentina to prevail, although O'Neill strikes a less positive note, suggesting "I'm not so sure they're as strong as everyone thinks". Asked to explain his view, he admits "I thought I'd be the second person asked, I thought I'd get away with it, and now I've got to qualify it" before suggesting they might not all be clicking simutaneously and/or fully fit. I'm not entirely sure he was entirely sure, especially as the best epithet anyone can subsequently come up for for Mexico is "organised".

"The last game in this city will decide who gets to play Germany" Steve Wilson notes, as well as that "the next match here will be in the German fourth division", as "Leipzig goes Latin". He promises "90 special minutes and hopefully more to come", suggesting he's hoping for personal overtime. The anthems find Juan Pablo Sorin exhibiting his "barrel chest, chin pointing up" while a camera finds our old friend La Volpe still down the tunnel, Wilson explaining that he's Argentinian. Didn't stop Sven. Wilson seems shocked the referee speaks Spanish and tries to catch individual words with, shall we suggest, limited success. Before we really know where we are Mexico have flown out of the blocks, and at a free kick floated into the box "the flick-on's an excellent one, and it's in the back of the net!", greeted at a level similar to that if Togo had just scored against Brazil. "Just when you think you know what's going to happen in this World Cup..." Wilson almost wistfully states, and with "Mexico going right for the jugular here" we could be on for something big. Argentina always pose a threat, though, Wilson noting as a free kick in the channel is lined up that "this might be about Riquelme versus Oswaldo Sanchez". Well, what else would a set-piece into the box be other than striker against defender? Indeed, not long afterwards that same defence seems to have a serious problem: "it's a good corner, it might be an own goal! It might be an own goal by Borghetti who was marking Crespo", as indeed the replay proves, although not conclusively enough for anyone in charge of these things. "They must have been worried about those first seven or eight minutes" Wilson summarises, not unreasonably given they went behind during that period, but for the Argentinian goal he continues to chide Borghetti, claiming "he knows what he did" and for the celebrating Crespo "try as he might, he's not going to get his name on that". Oh yeah? Lawrenson's co-commentating tonight, perceiving Mexico's key as "outnumbering" Argentina in the middle of midfield.

"A foul throw - you don't see them too often at any level, let alone a World Cup". Hang on, Steve, what about England-Paraguay, which at points seemed entirely to be made up of foul throw awards? Mark is still transfixed by La Volpe, at one point managing the meaningless phrase "when he leaves you out of the team you don't really argue with him, do you?" Our resident cynicism does tend to believe at times that the most aesthetically pleasing result for the broadcasters would be Argentina being all imperious again, Wilson decrying every Crespo attempt. Respite comes when Saviola goes down and Lawrenson reckons "he's not been able to sort of retract his knee... he's hurt his rump as well". Yeah, thanks. If anything's keeping the Mexicans afloat it's their massive and noisy following almost as much as their dogged determination, Wilson making sure both are given full recognition as much as how "the level of technical ability and technical nous is very, very high from both sides", which is a big concept to casually drop into the middle of a commentary. Wilson then goes off on one about how "I think FIFA rankings are a complete waste of time", yet still uses Mexico's fourth place ranking as all but proof "they're a very good side". I, erm, forgot to note who got yellow carded for an exaggerated fall, but Lawrenson's response to it was priceless: "Was it a foul? Naah! Behave yourself!", Steve adding "Absolutely not. Absolutely not. But it was, cos he gave it". Mark's impressed by the way "Borghetti's won nearly every ball in the air that's been played up to him", which surely is a basic skill of how he plays. It's not until 43 minutes that we get the Maradona cutaway, sitting very awkwardly in a position that leads Lawrenson to wonder "has he got a small chair there or something? Looks like one of those kiddies' stools." Wilson, remembering his corporation man status, likens him instead to "the Dennis Waterman character out of Little Britain". He's more impressed by Argentina's play, remarking that "like any good team, they've not been playing well but they've got themselves back on level terms". They pick their moment to really not play well. "Ooh, mistake!" Fonseca bursts through, Heinze fouls him - "it's a basic mistake" - but the referee adjudges Roberto Ayala as covering, no matter how much Lawrenson reckons "Ayala was not getting that, no chance. He is one lucky boy". "Might have been three yellows, that one" he unnecessarily adds. Wilson reckons "Ayala's not going to make up fifteen yards over the course of another fifteen yards", which almost makes sense.

"The script was written, it's just someone forgot to tell the Mexicans about it" is how O'Neill judges the half before completely failing to pronounce La Volpe. The commentators namecheck him enough, surely. "The only negative thing I could find before this game about Argentina was Sorin's hair" is Gary's Garyesque spin, while Alan mentions Oliver Kahn for some reason. There's much debate about who is trying to influence the referee's decisions, O'Neill claiming "I don't mind the manager pointing out the little yellow cards or red cards" in a manner which suggests he hasn't really thought that one through either. "It's made a Brazilian smile!" is Gary's inevitable homely judgement. Meanwhile, Garth is in a Porsche.

"Can't see this as being anything other than very, very tight all the way to the end" is how Lawrenson sees the second half developing, so obviously Saviola nearly scores within seconds. Actually it is pretty tight, nowithstanding the mild panic when the referee seems to book the wrong man - "it could get very confusing if he gets another" - Wilson helpfully adds - and the Mexican section going completely mad every time there even looks like a chance looming. Wilson seems desperate for a goal, giving a big build-up to a Mexico free kick 35 yards out that hits the two man wall. "Heart in mouth time for Mexico" comes as Argentina keep pressing, until 92 minutes in "...and Aimar, and Messi, and the flag's up, it's not going to count." Lawrenson complains "the flag was up very, very quickly, but he was onside", really stressing that last word. "On big decisions can World Cup destinies be changed" Wilson wrings out of it. "It is the first time we will have extra time" Wilson declares, there being "thirty more (minutes) to enjoy - I'm delighted". Lawrenson forsees "more attacking players for both teams", which seems an interesting interpretation of traditional extra time tactics.

"There are good games, and there are great games" adjudicates Hansen, calling the failure to send off Heinze "unfortunate" but "they even themselves up" with the disallowed goal. We're sure that's exactly how they'll see it too. Leonardo's not that confident of a similar extra half hour as "they need gas", which raises the odd studio knowing chuckle. It's left to O'Neill to put into words what many might be thinking, "I hope it doesn't go to penalties", Gary attempting levity by reminding us all "it'll be a taste of what's to come". So we're off for the tournament's first set of "tired legs, shrivelled nerves, it's all or nothing, tension, tension, tension" as Wilson puts it on being handed back to. It's his own nerves we're having to watch out for, as Messi goes through and Wilson suddenly notices, with no little excitement, "there was a leg stuck out there! Messi to his credit stayed on his feet...", with a little sadness in his voice at this point. We don't get to see this again, perhaps wisely, leading Mark to wonder "has the man who puts the replays in gone home?" Even when Wilson goes quiet for a few moments nobody out there is letting up, as... "That's a great goal! That's a fantastic goal! What a hit! What a hit! We've seen some great goals, and that is one of them!" Er, yes. The effect of his excitement is all the more heightened as despite the ball being played up to the edge of the box Wilson seemingly didn't see any movement worth immediately commenting on until the ball had met the net for what he calls "a goal fit for a king". That's knocked the wind out of Mexico, especially the player down with "cramp in his gastro" at half time, and not even La Volpe can do much, as Wilson laments - "all he can do is stand at the side of the technical area and shout - he might as well be whistling into the wind". Argentina know they're on top and are "starting to knock it about with a bit of a swagger now". When Wilson notices "three balls on the pitch at the moment" Mark almost sees it as tactical: "yeah, that's what Argentina want". He sees something more in them as they wrap up the 2-1, commenting "Argentina, like matadors, they'll show them it, take it away". A quick Google reveals bullfighting is illegal in Argentina.

Sorry about this one, which I thought I'd posted two nights ago but didn't come up, and then found I'd lost most of my notes for the last twenty minutes, so what caused Leonardo to say afterwards "the left foot goes...phh!" will have to remain a mystery.

Switzerland v Ukraine, BBC1

2006-06-27T09:35:00.000+01:00

From the outset, it is clear that the BBC producers and pundits have as little interest in this game as their public. As Gary Lineker puts it, “The two least fancied teams in this round, compete to be the least fancied teams in the quarter-final.” There’s some Roger Federer stuff and some shots of Schevchenko (natch) while Lawro (given a night off from laughing off-mic in the stadiums), Leonardo (strapped to his seat in front of a telly showing a game with no South American involvement) and Alan Shearer try to find things to talk about. Gary tries a few early gags “Perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised that Switzerland won the group that contained France. The average age of their side is just under 23, the average age of the French? About 56.” Lawro laughs off camera. You can take the man from the commentary box…

Lineker, buoyed by his pinch-hitting laugh-a-minute performance for the Germany game is on a roll. “Bit strange Senderos has been sent home for a dislocated shoulder,” he says to Alan. “In our day we’d have popped it back in and got on with it. Well you would.” To cover their lack of options, the Italy v Australia highlights are fairly extensive.

Soon they are relieved, and we enter the ground, where we see Swiss fans pogo-ing together like they’re amassed for the Strokes at a festival. During the anthems, they show a close up of two Swiss players holding hands. Good job we’re not on ITV, Tyldsley would have been in full “eh, eh, backs against the wall, lads” mode. Especially when he realised they were all doing it. That reaction may not be an exclusive ITV trait though, as you’ll discover later.

Eventually we hear from Mick McCarthy who sounds as though he’s trying to mask his voice through a hankie. Guy uses the lack of much happening to fit in a sly plug for the Autumn, “Shevchenko…who’ll you see a lot of on your Match of the Day screens next season”.

A few things occur in the first half. Raphel Wicky has a decent run and long range shot bringing a save from Olexandr Shovkovsky. Mick McCarthy makes sure to reiterate his point from a previous broadcast that Koebi Kuhn is “a lovely guy”,although I’m sure Mick would say that about anybody, once he’d checked that they weren’t Roy Keane. A Mexican wave starts after 20 minutes, “bit worrying” says a now mopey Mick. Then we have a burst of activity. Shevchenko gets his head down amongst Johan Djourou’s boots to nod into the ground, the ball dollying up up on the crossbar and away. Two minutes later Switzerland gets amongst the woodwork crashing action, Alexander Frei bending a free-kick against the outside of the upright. “Both sides have hit the woodwork,” says Guy. “One all” says Mick, demonstrating how that might be represented in numerical form. That’s pretty much yer first period.

“No wonder Hansen’s gone home for 2 days” says Shearer, revealing the secrets of the rota. “You have to think we’re going to get a better second half…as one of these teams is going to have to win it” Lawro reveals. “We’ve been hunting for a few other chances [to show you], we think we’ve found three,” says Gary, tempted to jump up and ask “anyone fancy a pint.”

To keep themselves entertained, they get a little cheeky. “After last nights bad tempered affair, they’re trying a little tenderness” he says as they show the captains share a cheek–kiss before kick-off, as well as a couple in the crowd getting down to some serious tonsil action. “Lets hope his wife’s not watching,” sniggers Gary. With more time to fill, they shoe-horn in a romantically soundtracked VT showing the Portuguese defender and keeper bundling on the line during their game in Mexico, finishing with a hug and a kiss to the forehead for the prostrate gloveman. “I retired at the right time” says Shearer, nose deep in a copy of Nuts.

To even up on the homoerotica, they show two yellow and blue bikini-topped ladies going in for a lip-lock. “I believe they’re Swedish” dribbles Lineker, rubbing the thighs of his trouser legs so aggressively he catches fire. “Better pairing than Larsson and Ibrahimovic” is Shearer’s pitch. “Good pair up front” continues host Letch Luthor, the Brandenburg gate behind him in immediate danger of being lost behind sweaty condensation. However a by now rather excited Leonardo trumps them all with “All they need now is a Brazilian.” Scarcely able to believe they’ve allowed this locker-room hidden camera footage make the air, they link us back to the stadium, probably to allow them to quickly nip back to the hotel for a circle jerk, as much as anything else.

The second half goes on and on and on much like the first with the occasional flash. In the 67th minute, Shevchenko suddenly rips one just wide in the blink of an eye, and 8 minutes later, Andriy Gusin’s header, from a delicious, penetrating corner, flies as close to the post as is possible without hitting it. “Oooh” is the intake from the crowd as they are shown the replay, keen to give the pretence they are enjoying themselves.

As they wind down to end of normal time, Guy advertises the extra half hour’s football, “Its at this point we usually say strap yourself in, but today its more about stopping yourself from getting up.” The heavy eyelids are also present in a studio now conspicuously free of biscuits. “There’s been some great games at this World Cup, and this is not one of them…it’s been like watching creosote dry” says Gary Lineker, sounding like his Great Aunt’s just pulled out her 8th slide carousel documenting her trip to Chipping Campden. “Been no offsides in 90 minutes, which tells its own story” adds flag enthusiast Shearer. Gary points out that Guy Mowbray has commentated on four of the five nil-nils, which comes fairly close to tipping our commentator over that teary edge.

Usually I type notes and put them together after the game. Extra time allows me to get ahead of myself, you’re missing nothing in my highlighting two quotes from Mick McCarthy from near the end of each half. After the first 15, he says “I’ve gone numb” with a genuine fright in his voice that suggests a sudden awareness of his aging. A further quarter hour later, he says “I hope no one scores now, no-one deserves to win” adding “we’ll need a stiff drink after this.” In the studio, Alan Shearer is getting grizzly “Thank god it’s finished, I feel like I’ve aged ten years.” “For a game played in Cologne, it stunk” says Lawro, throwing in a Swiss neutrality comment for good measure.

So, some excitement of sorts, although Shearer suggests these two teams may not even be able to conjour any thrills from the traditionally stimulating penalty shoot-out. Here is said shoot out in quotes, from Guy Mowbray unless stated.

PENALTY 1
U: Andriy Shevchenko. 0-0. “Still Zuberbuhler will not let one in”
S: Marco Streller. 0-0. “A poor penalty, is anyone going to score in Cologne?” (GM) “We’ll have to toss a coin for this match” (McCarthy)

PENALTY 2
U: Artem Milevskiy loops one softly in over committed keeper. 1-0. “how cool is that.”
S: Tranquillo Barnetta. 1-0. “And Barnetta hits the bar”.

PENALTY 3
U: Sergei Rebrov. 2-0. “Where’s your money Spurs and West Hams fans...Rebrov...scores...well struck.”
S: Ricardo Cabanas. 2-0. “Switzerland surely have to score at some point...Cabanas to get Switzerland back in the game...he hasn’t”

PENALTY 4
U: Oleg Gusev: 3-0. “Gusev deservedly scores...it is the men from Eastern Europe who go to the last 8”.

“I thought it was going to be nil-nil” on penalties sighs Mick, no doubt jumping out of seat merely to stretch his legs. “Switzerland go out of the competition without conceding a goal” is the comment back in the studio, “Not surprised when they put 11 behind the ball” says Alan ‘Total Football’ Shearer. Signing quickly off so the News can finally get going, Lineker looks genuinely pissed off that (a) he’s had to sit through it and; (b) that he hasn’t had much time to drum up a closing pun. “For the Ukraine there’s another game, for Switzerland there’s...the plane” he says with stumbling, weary embarrassment.

Referee (Benito Archundia, Mexico): Dunno, the fixed cheshire cat grin of the 4th official (Jerome Damon, South Africa) as they were stood in the tunnel, when they were walking out, while they were respecting the anthems and during the coin-toss pretty much dazzled me for the rest of the game, with regards the officials.

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: zzzzzzzzzzzz

These things I believe: 7 clean sheets out of 8 before this for Ukraine, and not a single goal conceded by Switzerland in the tournament prior to, if ever a game lived up to its billing -- The BBC team clearly need Craig Charles’ driver to sort them out from at the nearest petrol station’s top shelf -- 58 minutes before a yellow card? Mr Archundia has clearly missed a meeting. -- This match would have synched up perfectly with loop playings of Leon Redbone’s music for the 1980’s ‘Relax’ Inter City ad.

Graham Poll joke d’jour: “I never could count. I believe there’s somebody else like that at this World Cup” – Guy Mowbray.

Revealing stat of the day: 125 minutes (approx.) of football: 1 offside given.

What a difference a day makes: Portugal v Holland: 25 fouls, 16 yellows, 4 red. Ukraine v Switzerland: 44 fouls, 1 yellow, 0 red.

England v Ecuador, BBC1

2006-06-27T04:36:00.000+01:00

How long has Wayne Rooney been in the BBC's opening credits sequence instead of Steven Gerrard, then? "It's a strange old business, following England at World Cups - you look forward to the games for ages, and when they finally come around, you dread them!" is Gary's introduction, heading straight into a montage of the high and lowlights of England's tournament so far. Noting that - unlike Sven - the BBC have kept their "usual formation" of Hansen, Shearer and Wright (behind whom a red scarf is occasionally thrown up into the air). Having smirked at Owen Hargreaves being switched to right-back after a decent performance in defensive midfield against Sweden, Gary makes his first funny by pointing out that England are down to 3 attacking options: "the tall striker, the not-fully-fit striker and the baby striker", causing an extremely forced laugh from Ian.
Lineker's not the only comedy act though, as we review footage of Rooney's reaction to being substituted last week. "Keep your eye on Gary Neville here..." advises Wor Alan, before putting words in Neville's mouth (with hilarious consequences). "'Shall I speak to him?'...'Yes I will'....'Might just have another word with him'.....'Will I?'....'Yep'..." If that wasn't enough, Shearer switches seamlessly into sharp observational humour, as we continue to see the Rooney & Neville show. "Watch Gary Neville smile here - he has a laugh at him....boots come off.... ["he's gonna smile" interjects Wrighty] Gary Neville turns away..." "He gives up in the end!" cuts in Lineker, about 20 seconds after Alan should have given up. "That is so funny!" lies Hansen, adroitly. Where do they get their energy from? Oh hang on, that's on the other side, isn't it?

"Shall we have a sweepstake about when he switches to 4-4-2?" proposes Lineker at the end of discussions of formations and tactics, before linking to Garth Crooks' big interview with the in-form Joe Cole (who Hansen proposes for Man of the Tournament). Next it's Adrian Chiles' five fascinating facts about Ecuador ("number 4: Quito is 9300 feet, or 1439 Peter Crouches above sea level") culminating with the apparently ominous sign that they beat Britain in the Davis Cup six years ago. "But this is football, not tennis," explains Lineker helpfully for the benefit of any late arrivals. Ecuador's coach is quoted as saying his team are here to win, not to take photos - "two pieces of bad news for Beckham I suppose!" Hansen identifies Ulises de la Cruz as the weak link, and Gary informs us that Aston Villa fans prefer to call him "Use-less", which once again has the three stooges chuckling away. It really must be the heat affecting them out there.

Speaking of being affected by the elements, Ray Stubbs is outside with a wilting Alan Ball who recalls the heat and disappointment of Mexico 1970 and all but pleads to camera that the players mustn't let the nation down. Lineker suggests Ball should be doing the team talk in the dressing room with such stirring platitudes. Hansen goes a step further and suggests he should be in the team! From the former right-winger to the current incumbent, Hansen goes on to analyse David Beckham's weakness at defending the near post during opposition corners, which is all very interesting but doesn't offer much of a hilarious report, so let's fast forward to the final words from our pundits. Lineker reminds everyone how bullish people were about England's chances prior to the Paraguay game. Hansen believes "it wouldn't be half as much fun if it was plain sailing", and all agree England need a performance, "and of course a win".

Over to "a man who's been here so many times before, John Motson." "Well, not in heat like this Gary, I haven't! I don't know what it's like in the studio - 36 degrees in the commentary box here today! It's hotter today than it ever was in Japan 4 years ago, would you believe it?" John tries to accentuate the positive by pointing out that 2 of England's biggest ever victories in World Cup Finals have been in the first knockout game, before reminding us that England's last match in Stuttgart was the defeat to Ireland in the 1988 European Championships. Somebody makes the mistake of turning up the microphone in the tunnel as we see the players preparing to enter the pitch, just as John Terry gees up the team by screaming "Come on boys, it's all about fucking that..." Sadly, we hurriedly cut away before we can see the mascots' reactions - and even more sadly, we don't cut away in time to prevent yet another annoying child jumping up in front of the camera as it pans along the Ecuador team during their anthem. Speaking of which, it is amusing to see the cameraman put a bit of pace on panning along as he suddenly thinks the anthem is drawing to a close, only to realise in fact that was the elongated intro. "I've got the badge, by the way - I saw Delgado play for Southampton!" announces Motty as we see the Ecuador squad in their pre-match huddle. "You were one of three people, apparently!" replies Mark. Motson reminds us of an occasion where Delgado scored the winner against an Arsenal side containing Ashley Cole and Sol Campbell, apropos of very little. We see the two coaches just before kick-off, Eriksson clapping outstretched palms, Luis Suarez moving one fist on top of the other in a 'one potato, two potato' style. Outstretched palm beats closed fist in Paper, Scissors, Stone so advantage England there.

"Call me old fashioned, but I prefer them in the white shirts," declares John as the game gets underway. "I don't know if this is an omen John, but the sun's just gone in as we kicked off!" observes Lawrenson. "Well, it's a blessing for everybody!" states a sweltering Motson. Motson reminds us of Beckham's potential for being the first England goalscorer in three World Cups, before having to issue an apology for the earlier indiscretions of John Terry and the sound mixer: "I gather there was some fairly strong language in the tunnel, the England players obviously well wound up!" That's not a traditional BBC apology! I shall write to Points Of View immediately!
"Incidentally, I'm sure you probably know that yellow cards carried over have either been wiped out, or...players starting with a clean sheet as far as England are concerned in this knockout stage." Either/ors tend to feature two separate points John, not the same point twice. The ball is lumped up to Carlos Tenorio, who is still slowly walking back towards the last defender and is offside in whatever definition of the rules you want to mention as he suddenly perks up and tries to trap it. Motson clearly isn't able to grasp this though, claiming he was flagged "as he came back", whatever difference that makes. "Does that mean he's offside twice?" asks Mark, trying to cover. "Well, I dunno - that's the ambiguity of the law, isn't it?" repeats a determined-to-bumble Motty.
John reminds us that we're in the knockout stages, and therefore could be subject to extra time and even penalties. He then notes that several of the Ecuador squad have arrived at the World Cup in the midst of a domestic season and in fact halfway through a Copa Libertadores tie, the second leg of which will be played one week after the World Cup final. "Let's hope they've got a few weeks to prepare for it then!" quips Mark.
A poor attempt at a headed clearance from John Terry allows Carlos Tenorio a strike on goal. Luckily for him, Ashley Cole sprints like a madman to get back and just get the slightest deflection to divert Tenorio's goalbound shot onto the crossbar with Robinson stranded. Motson doesn't concede that Cole definitely got a touch until the third replay, as per the norm. A minute later and Ecuador get a free kick which goes past all the England defence and skips into Robinson's grasp with Tenorio breathing down his neck. "Phew! You were saying?" asks Mark. "I was really!" explains Motson. "We start - England start great and six minutes later we're hanging on! Typical, innit?" "It's England, it's called a rollercoaster!"
A lingering close-up of a standing Steve McLaren and a seated Eriksson. "You do sometimes wonder what they're thinking down there, don't you?" ponders Motty. Rooney tumbles to the floor in the area, but no penalty claim is asked nor offered. You wonder whether a foreign player might have been accused of diving. Meanwhile, Owen Hargreaves is a "better player than many people give him credit for" in Motson's eye, and Lawrenson offers the backhanded compliment that "you do always get an honest performance and he has pace".John Terry is booked for fouling Tenorio, who wanders off the pitch for treatment with an ice pack on his shoulder. The free kick that follows is deflected behind by Rio Ferdinand, only to be declared a goal kick by the official - "well done ref!" states a grateful Lawrenson.
"Yellow boots, yellow card - Valencia." If only it were 'Yellencia', eh John?
Lawrenson is encouraged by England's performance as the game reaches the 30th minute. The barely discernible tones of Alan Green in the other room seem to paint a different picture, but that's not important right now as we get another look at the Ecuador coach looking despairingly at the sky following one of their earlier opportunities. Motson's suggestion that he's more expressive than the England coach brings out Lawrenson's best Eriksson impression, as he says "well..." in a Swedish Chef accent.Beckham lines up a free kick as the referee forces the Ecuador wall back the required distance, and perhaps even further: "Tell you what, this is 10 yards plus VAT!" assesses Lawrenson. The England fans are in full voice, with the witty ditty of "5-1, even Heskey scored." Well, at least it's stopped them mentioning the war for a bit. Rooney attempts to thread a pass through to Gerrard only for Espinoza to slide in, miss the player and ball with his leg but collect the ball with his trailing hand. Referee says no, Motson only spots the handball at the third attempt. Owen Hargreaves sticks his knee in front of the ball just as Delgado goes to shoot and receives treatment right next to the corner flag, which doesn't amuse Mendez, who attempts to take a corner. "Referee won't be happy with this," observes Motson. "No, he'll make him move!" agrees Mark.

"It's a lot easier when you play, isn't it?" asks Lineker to Shearer as we return to the decidedly less cheerful studio team. Wright lays blame at Beckham's poor crossing, Shearer disagrees with Lawrenson blaming Robinson for the Ecuador chance that hit the bar, whilst Hansen is unimpressed with John Terry's initial header. Ian asks in vain for the "other angle" of the handball claim after only watching it from the inconclusive wide shot - "we'll take your word for it!" assures Gary.
Lineker points out that Wright's pre-match pick Joe Cole has had a disappointing half, trying to be too elaborate. Wright recommends he keep it simple, although admitting he could never do so himself when having a bad game. "You do surprise me!" remarks Gary. After a quick plug for Sport Relief, Lineker reminds latecomers of the score - well, nearly: "Here in Stuttgart, it's England 1, Ec...I wish it was England 1!" Hansen offers assistance by suggesting Lineker may have had a premonition of the final score.
"Sven's taken his jacket off!" notes Lineker as the teams begin to re-emerge. "The passion of the man(!)" remarks a clearly awestruck Wright, "Looks like he's told them off!" "He's given them that hard Swedish stare!" declares Lineker before handing us back to the commentary team.

Having started the first half by recalling England's best 2nd round victories, Motson begins this half in slightly less upbeat mood as he reminds us of 2nd round matches that have gone all the distance (or thereabouts) - Belgium in 1990 and Argentina in 98. Gerrard is brought down just outside the penalty area almost immediately but no foul is given. "It's a foul by Reasco, there's no question!" declares Motson (only after a replay, mind). "No wonder Gerrard looks askance!"
Lawrenson wistfully mourns the loss of the shoulder charge from the modern game as Rooney concedes a foul for just that, and stares menacingly at the nearby linesman as he realises the decision.
With Peter Crouch and Wayne Bridge getting ready to come on, David Beckham lines up his umpteenth free kick of the afternoon. "And Beckham...it's gone in! It's gone in! England are in front! Relief! David Beckham! England take the lead in the knockout stage of the World Cup!" We're still seeing replays of the goal (or more precisely the celebrations - even a slow-motion replay of Victoria) as Motson is watching Rooney chase the ball into the box, only for the keeper to claim the ball. Motson questions the goalkeeper, but Lawrenson's happy to give all the credit to Beckham's ingenuity. Guess Aaron Lennon won't be claiming that starting position any time soon then?
"Well, a Beckham bender has put England on the straight and narrow here, Mark," suggests Motty after a couple of minutes' thinking time. "Yep, came at just the right time," agrees a straight-faced Mark. Beckham is hunched over and seems to be coughing his guts up for a moment, although this passes without comment for now.
Rooney leaves Hurtado for dead out on the left wing, and pulls the ball back to an oncoming teammate: "And following up there...[ball sails over the bar, camera switches to close up of Steven Gerrard even though he never touched it]...Frank Lampard!" A slight case of mistaken identity there from the director, I'm sure causing Gerrard's name to be cursed momentarily across the land for skying a shot from inside the area. Super Miss, Super Frank. We love it.
"I understand that rather like Zinedine Zidane, when he took a penalty in the match against England in Portugal, David Beckham was physically sick shortly after scoring the goal but was still determined to carry on. Mind you, on a day like this..." "Glad you brought that one up!" spews Mark. Rooney slides in vain trying to keep the ball in play - "ah, fuck off!" is clearly audible thanks once again to the overenthusiastic sound mixer.
Sure enough, a few minutes later we get to see Beckham's sudden stomach evacuation again. "David Beckham was ill," is Motson's rather uncertain commentary of a thankfully brief replay. "That was an edited version, I think!" Lawrenson roars with laughter off-mic. Mark suggests bringing Lennon on to replace the suffering captain, and at the same moment Motson points out that Lennon is being told to go and warm up. "I didn't see him, honestly," protests Mystic Mark. "No, I know," confirms Motson.
Paul Robinson is down for a couple of minutes in the last 5 minutes, which Mark suggests is a clever time-wasting ploy. Motson points out the delay has given all the players chance to take a drink, although "never mind them, we want water!" "Need more than water, watching England..." suggests Lawro.
The final whistle blows, and Motson sums up by pointing out that England have been "patchy against Paraguay, tentative against Trinidad, subdued in the end by Sweden, but they were energetic and effective today against Ecuador!"

Another close-up of Posh and unidentified young boy as Lineker takes over: "A hug for Brooklyn...if that's the right child!" Ashley Cole, having been on fine form during the match is tripped by a camera cable as he salutes the fans afterwards. "You have to give the manager credit, Ian?" asks Gary. Ian initially feigns not to hear before quite specifically stating "I know you do, *you* should give him credit. I give credit to the lads, to Beckham and that - I ain't giving it to him!"
Garth Crooks interviews Beckham, who reveals that "Wazzer said before the game, 'you've been terrible in training the last two days so you'll score one tonight!'" and that Roberto Carlos sent a text requesting Beckham score him a free kick. Last word with Lineker: "England are through to the quarter-finals of the World Cup thanks to a Beckham special. You never doubted him, did you?"

What we've learned: An England team playing 4-5-1 and featuring Hargreaves and Carrick isn't the death knell everyone was predicting; Frank Lampard's shooting prowess this tournament will provide a plethora of photos for Spot The Ball competitions in years to come; and your correspondent's late report filing (booking a flight to Gelsenkirchen this time) has probably left him with about as much chance of being picked for the final as Graham Poll...

Italy v Australia, ITV1

2006-06-26T19:51:00.000+01:00

Goal of the match: Not a great deal of choice, really. The decision to award Italy a penalty in the 94th minute may have been dubious, Fabio Grosso falling very deliberately over the prostrate body of Lucas Neill, but substitute Francesco Totti's spot-kick was firm, perfectly placed and pretty much unstoppable. Just the impact the man "pilloried from one end of Italy to the other" will have wanted to have, having been omitted from the starting line-up.

Shot of the match: Marco Bresciano's fearsome shot, on one of the very rare occasions when an Australian was allowed too much space by the Italian defence.

Miss of the match: Luca Toni missed two presentable headed chances in the first half, but fellow striker Vincenzo Iaquinta was more culpable, hitting a second half shot straight at Mark Schwarzer from close range with the Aussie back line in total disarray.

Save of the match: Schwarzer, already diving to his right, did well to deflect a Toni shot away with his legs.

Man of the match: It would have been Neill but for his injury time rush of blood to the head (even though Grosso went looking for the penalty, Neill was at fault for committing himself far too easily and unnecessarily). At the other end, Italian skipper Fabio Cannavaro was his usual imperious self, outshining his team-mates in a game in which defences dominated (though perhaps not quite to the same snoozesome extent as they did in the later Switzerland v Ukraine match...).

He was playing?!: Very few of the midfielders on display did themselves any justice. Was Vincent Grella quietly effective or just quiet? Luke Wilkshire showed why he lines up for Bristol City, but, to be fair, his much more feted opponent Andrea Pirlo didn't really do anything of distinction either.

Gesture of the match: Tim Cahill's "diddums" wobbling of his lower lip with forefinger in the direction of Marco Materazzi shortly before the Italian defender's dismissal.

The Biggest Boned Player Award: Need you ask?

Player looking most likely to have just got off a submarine: Italian midfield ankle-biter Gennaro Gattuso.

The Sir Bobby Robson Award For The Manager Most Resembling A Lost And Confused Pensioner: Marcello Lippi stood open-mouthed following Materazzi's sending-off, as though trying to work out what day it was.

The Rage Against The Machine Fuck You I Won't Do What You Tell Me Award: Italy. According to Jon Champion, they were ordered by FIFA to wear white shirts and blue shorts, and warmed up in that kit - but for the match itself they switched to the more familiar blue shirts and white shorts. Symptomatic of a healthy disregard for the champagne-and-caviar quaffers who pass for authority, or of an unpleasant arrogance?

Face in the crowd: For the Aussies, a fat dreadlocked man in a yellow wifebeater vest bouncing up and down manically. For the Italians, a man with a large foam hand in the colours of the Italian flag. And there I was thinking only Boro fans and 'Gladiators' audiences thought foam hands were a good thing.

Stat attack: Italy are now unbeaten in 22 games, their best sequence since 1939. The Aussies, meanwhile, exited in the knockout stages having been ahead for precisely three minutes during their four matches.

The England Award For Arrogance And Overblown Self-Confidence: Italy. Apparently today's edition of the Republica newspaper claimed the idea that they could be beaten by Australia was a "joke". What a shame the Azzuri didn't end up with egg all over their faces.

Stereotypes Corner: Barely a couple of minutes after taking over from Jim Rosenthal, Champion referred to the "tinny-fuelled rendition" of the Australian national anthem.

Patronised to within an inch of their plucky little lives: Australia, of course. Plenty of references to their spirit and determination (Rosenthal, for instance, said at the break "The Aussies are hanging on and they will play right to the end - don't worry about that" as if we thought they'd bow meekly before their more established opponents), and there was the inevitable Champion nod to their "wonderful adventure" towards the end.

Minutes elapsed before Champion mentioned that Scott Chipperfield was working as a bus driver when he won the first of his fifty Australian caps: 30.

Sticking the boot in: "Not even a wayward English referee has been able to stop [Australia]". No sympathy for Poll, then, Jon? He also noted (with marvellous redundancy of expression) that "'cavalier' in relation to Italian football is a relative term". Rosenthal's best shot was say "The Australians will try to get in the Italians' faces", and then turn to Sam Allardyce with the words: "You know all about sending teams out to do that"...

Fish out of water: Ned Boulting, for once (thankfully) not interviewing drunken idiots in a fan park, tried and failed to extract much of interest from an Italian sports journalist on the subject of the country's match-fixing scandal.

The Jon Champion Award For Overstatement (sponsored by Des Lynam): Surprisingly, it would have to be awarded not to the man himself but jointly to Allardyce and Ally McCoist. The former claimed Italy were "excellent" (not quite sure about that, Sam...), while McCoist's buzzword was "sensational", an adjective he applied at the break both to Materazzi's distribution from the back (illustrated with one of those pointless graphics) and to Toni and Alberto Gilardino's movement (the latter, incidentally, was replaced at half-time).

The Yeah But No But Award For Self-Contradiction: Another joint award, this time to McCoist and Andy Townsend. Before the game, and again at half-time, Hiddink was hailed as one of most tactically astute coaches in the world. At full-time he was savaged for not changing things round and having a real go at ten man Italy.

Learning the lingo: "We thought we were in for overtime", chuckled Rosenthal after the full-time whistle. You've been watching too many of those Budweiser trails, haven't you Jim?

You what?!!: According to Champion, "Guus Hiddink specialises in that ever-so-slightly crumpled look".

Most bizarre moment of coverage: Either right at the start, when a problem with the feed meant our initial view was from a camera high above and behind the Italian goal, or the moment before the game when Rosenthal leaned over to Allardyce and patted the Bolton manager's stomach with the words "none of that", claiming that's what Hiddink did and said to Mark Viduka when he took charge. The prospect of being fondled by Jim Rosenthal on live TV is too awful to contemplate.

What we learned: This was the first proper look I've had at Italy, and as expected they're defensively superb but not particularly exciting going forwards; three more dodgy late penalty winners and Lippi will have to fulful his promise to shave his head; the Aussies' apparently superhuman fitness levels didn't help them overcome ten men in the end; I'm seriously doubting whether I can handle another ITV game.

Your Brazilian name

2006-06-26T11:54:00.000+01:00

You may well have come across this before, but hey ho...

If you played for Brazil, what would your name be?

I'm Skiffleiro. Or a less exciting Dava, based on my given name.

"Afternoon everybody"

2006-06-25T14:25:00.000+01:00

Germany v Sweden, BBC1

2006-06-25T14:22:00.000+01:00

Here we are at the knockouts then; the death or glory, and we open proceedings with the tournament hosts, who are just getting into their stride. “I never thought I’d say this, but the tournament has been better for it” suggests casual xenophobe Gary Lineker. “As long as they don’t win it, that would be taking it too far” he adds, probably making a mental note to finally get round to ordering that Stan Boardman single off Amazon.

Wishing to fit in with the English abroad, Hansen gets into stereotypes. “Efficiency and work-rate they’re noted for, but not ambience and charisma, but we’ve had loads,” as the panel go on to praise all things German both in terms of support and on-field displays. Although Gary won’t let this pro-Deutsch waxing go on too long, “we’ve not seen them play any one strong”. “Correct! Correct! At last you say something relevant” says Hansen, the disciplinarian housemaster of the BBC team.

Going onto the Swedes, we learn Lars Lagerback has been praised by the Swedish media for his moderation in playing down his teams chances. “Sven must really miss Sweden sometimes” quips Gary, who doesn’t miss a trick in giving the FIFA rankings a further satirical beating. “Sweden are actually ranked higher than Germany in the rankings, but then Czech Republic and the USA are 2 and 5 and I think Leicester are 7th, so we shouldn’t read too much into that.” The boy Lineker's on fire today, it seems.

Martin O’Neill’s time at Celtic with Swedish hero Henrik Larsson is naturally discussed, and the Ulsterman tries a little tenderness. “I could nearly say I’m madly in love with him...he’s unlike the mythical Samson, when he shed his dreadlocks he became better” he says lyrically. “How would he have done in the Premiership” asks Alan Shearer with a record-holders strut. O’Neill is quick to cut him down to size; “Hah, he’d have walked it, he’d have scored as many as you, Shearer.” Already showing he’s in mischievous mode, Gary presses the right O’Neill buttons, asking him for his opinions on Zlatan Ibrahimovic. O’Neill spins violently out of the winding up, “that’s why [Larsson’s] retiring, he’s been doing Ibrahimovic’s work for the last 4 years” he says, reiterating his notion that he is “the most over-rated player on the planet”.

For the second time today they go for another emo slo-mo VT package, but Gary is being particularly on the ball with it, “another gratuitous musical montage, you can’t beat them” he lies, as they move on to England stuff. Today Garth is yapping at Owen Hargreaves who comes across very well; relaxed, articulate, intelligent, hopefully he’ll continue to win people over. Discussing the right-back issue, Martin O’Neill nostalgically quotes from the book of Clough.

Back to today, and we move to Ray Stubbs who is inside the Allianz Arena with Boris Becker. Clearly they are trying to compete with ITV’s Shane Warne ‘coup’. Thankfully they only entrust Boris, dressed rigidly like an 80’s Wall-Street-adjacent tailor’s mannequin, in discussing matters such as the weather. However despite getting Ray his Access All Areas pass and a celebrity Teuton, it is the last we see of our Wirralian hero all day. Back in with the pundits and the elongated build-up has clearly caused a cameraman to nod off, the shot sliding towards Alan Shearer before jerking back to the still chuntering O’Neill. “We’re hoping for 5-5 with penalty kicks” is Hansen’s schoolboyish ideal, before we discover the apex of Shearer’s ambition. “The last 16, it doesn’t get any better than this,” he says, the rapier host quickly getting in the line I would almost certainly have otherwise written, “well apart from the quarters, the semi’s, the final…” As the four fall about, we move to the stadium.

After ‘Das Lied der Deutschen’ is belted out, Jonathan Pearce notes “that version [was] a lot louder and prouder than 2 weeks ago” “That was down to the corporates” says peoples champion Mark ‘No Logo’ Bright. The noise is understandable, the German nation has gradually got hooked into the tournament and there are only 4,000 Swedes in a red-hot sold-out 66,000 seat Arena today. Earlier in the afternoon, on ‘..Focus’, Lee Dixon had claimed that this support was worth “half a goal to them.” Not entirely sure how they’d cash in them tokens, myself.

Happilly for them, they get a real goal after only four minutes, Lukas Podolski nods down to Michael Ballack, who threads a short pass to Miroslav Klose. Klose’s progression is blocked by the diving Andreas Isaksson, but the ball spills out to Podolski who belts it in off the top of Teddy Lucic’s desperate, diving bonce. On the bench, Klinsmann bounces like a trampolining 8 year old before bundling into the circle pit that has formed in the dug out. Not long after, Henrik Larsson turns his man in the box but the angle is too acute for him to beat Lehmann. They show Oliver Kahn studying the efforts of his keeping colleague/rival intently. “I don’t think they share Christmas cards” sighs Jonathon Pearce with a ‘I don’t know, those boys’ shake of the head. Sat on the bench, and calmed down, Klinsmann applauds a German move like it’s the opening bars of a Neil Diamond encore.

In the 12th minute, Bastian Schweinsteiger passes to Klose who draws the defenders before reversing the pass to Podolski who doesn’t muck about in striking a second beyond Isaksson. “Disastrous start for Sweden. Only 8 teams have done that, come from a two goal deficit, in the World Cup” says Bright, flicking through his Schotts Miscellany. “The name you can hear being sung is that of Jurgen Klinsmann, that simply would not have happened last season” adds Pearce. Not long after he gets all excited when the ball ripples the net having been tipped round behind it. “It’s a goal, it’s in the back of the net...the wrong side” he says, in a not altogether seamless cover-up.

Sweden’s tasks becomes nigh on impossible in the 35th minute, as Teddy Lucic gets a second yellow. Pearce spots his chance, “how many has the referee counted today, he knows that two make a red.” Poll ain’t living that down anytime soon. It’s not a great call though as our ref seems to merely be following a request from two or three German players that he show a card for the most innocuous of challenges. A replay is then shown of the referee showing the red card in slo-mo. “Yes. Yes.” he nods with the kind of grin that usually accompanies plans for world domination being set in motion.

Although the game is in Germany’s pocket, Sweden occasionally cause problems, Ibrahimovic swivelling on 6 yard box and sending a shot which Lehmann blocks, before agitatedly swatting it behind as though it’s a perm-seeking crane-fly. It’s been quite a half, Sweden’s defence have been haphazard, their midfield conspicuous in their absences. It appears to be a cake-walk for Germany, particularly as they will play the entire second half with a man advantage, not to mention that extra half goal cushion.

“What is it about the Germans, even when they were supposed to be rubbish, they’re exceptional” says Gary at the break. “It’s the Swedes who are rubbish” snaps Hansen, while Shearer adds “chances galore” like he’s advertising a village fete. After discussing the half, Gary responds to emails about the setting of their studio so he delivers a live historical voice-over of a panorama of the Brandenburg Gate and the surrounding points of interest. Put down the tired Sven interview where he answers all the same old questions, and so something less boring instead. At the end Gary seems embarrassed, like he’s just said “mind if I read you some of this novella I’ve written” to his building site workmates in the pub. “I’ve got a job on an open-top bus tomorrow” he segues, ears reddening, suggesting “lets get back to football” as Hansen checks his initial praise to get back to his snidey banter shtick.

Before we head back, O’Neill continues his seemingly personal vendetta with Ibrahimovic, laying into him like he’s a nuisance neighbour. “He was once arrested for impersonating a policeman, maybe he’ll be arrested today for impersonating a footballer” quips Gary as we return to the box, where Pearce and Bright are giggling and threatening to send that line to the Swedish dressing room. Despite seemingly endless waves of German pressure, it is Sweden who have the first opportunity in the second half when they win a penalty, Larsson having been charged in the back by Christoph Metzelder. He has to wait for his own bench to make a substitution before he can take the kick, and this seems to throw him as he sends it high over the bar, Lehmann barely moving from his spot on the line.

For the remainder of the game it becomes once again, a shooting gallery and the impressive Isaksson makes save after diving save. Brilliant, really. Just prior to his substitution, the directors shows slo-mo of Ibrahimovic raising his shirt to reveal a tattoo on the side of his stomach that reads “Judge Me”. “Martin O’Neill already has” says Bright. Jonathon Pearce notices a stray boot on the pitch, Metzelder playing with one foot covered only by sock. “Ian Wright would have picked it up and thrown it in the crowd” says Bright before they show a replay of Larsson kicking it out of its owners immediate reach. Pearce also begins to lick his lips in the intense heat, “plenty of fluid being taken in, in a city where 110 million gallons of beer are brewed every year.” “One’s got your name on it” says Bright like a 1930’s Broadway impresario. “One?” whispers stein-jockey Pearce. That’s the end of it though, Germany 2.5 Sweden 0.

With plenty of time left at the end of the broadcast, in case of extras, we have time for more filler material, Adrian Chiles searching around Berlin for signs of German humour, visiting a comedy club and learning a filthy, unbroadcastable joke from one lady. At the end, we see him being covered in scarves and jester hats by some German lads. “The old Brummie jester” says our host. Well actually he says “gesture”, but it does appear he is beginning to lose it, as moments before he seems to forget the name of the colleague they are crossing to for the Jens Lehmann interview.

I can understand it though, it has been a long old week.

Referee (Carlos Eugenio Simon, Brazil): service with a smile

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: untaxing

These things I believe: Going on his celebration for the second goal, Klinsmann has clearly sought the counsel of David Pleat on dealing with touchline excitement –- Notice the Germans were happy to showboat, in front of their support. Could it be there undoing later on, rather than their inspiration? -- Lets hope Lars Lagerback will no doubt take some comfort from the fact that “the last 16. It doesn’t get any better than this.” – Whenever Teddy Lucic forgets to prepare for a fancy dress party, he just turns up and tells them he’s come as The Thing from the Fantastic Four.

Czech Republic v Italy, BBC1

2006-06-24T18:41:00.000+01:00

Ray Stubbs introduces what the BBC website has just revealed will be the first of 11 consecutive live games on the BBC. Aah, blessed relief from Budweiser and EDF Energy until Sunday night. We're assured than Messrs Shearer, Desailly and O'Neill are "right up to speed on all the different qualification permutations this afternoon". Martin points out to Marcel in that slow, deliberate way he always employs when talking to non-British pundits that the Ghanaian coach has kept Samuel Kuffour out of the starting line-up, going against Desailly's previously stated wish to see Kuffour returned to the team after his mistake against Italy. "Martin, Marcel phoned him up and sorted it out!" is Ray's rather weak segue into the split, as BBCi viewers disappear off to watch the Ghana-USA game and the rest of us are left in the hands of Mark Bright and John Motson.

Motson welcomes us by explaining that an announcement is forthcoming back in Italy about the corruption scandal currently rocking Serie A, and explains that this could lead to four clubs being relegated (he doesn't actually mention Juventus, Milan, Fiorentina and Lazio by name, but this is the new and non-technical BBC, after all). In true understating Motson fashion, he states non-categorically that "I don't recall a World Cup match starting in that kind of atmosphere before!" Motson recalls attending the Italy v Czechoslovakia game at Italy 1990 where both teams made it through the group, and wonders if that's to be an omen for today. Mark Bright has always liked it when the last group game can lead to "somebody falling out..." (the image of Pavel Nedved and his Juventus teammates in the Italian team having a childish squabble and refusing to talk to each other springs to mind).
"There's going to be a contrast in the welcomes here, because Mark and I have been in the city today and we think there's more enthusiasm from the Czech Republic fans than there is from the Italians!" A fine theory John, but since the two teams arrive on the pitch side-by-side, it's rather difficult to ascertain any difference on television in the welcomes afforded by the two sets of fans. Mark Bright offers the opinion that Italians "don't travel" - unlike the Swedes, Swiss and Mexicans - and that the Czech fans probably outnumber the Italians in the stadium today. "Mind you, there'll be a few people in the Italian restaurants across Europe [chuckle] who'll be following this very closely, so we'd better be strictly neutral here!" Is Motson on some kind of crusade to slip some kind of food reference into every commentary these days? I anticipate the first pasta, pizza or spaghetti pun with dread.
"Just can't get used to Totti with his hair so short! [chuckle]" is John's first comment immediately following the anthems. "It's the fashion now, John, it's the fashion!" explains Bright, sounding for all the world like your Grandma explaining the state of young people nowadays to her elderly neighbour after you turn up on her doorstep with a mohican and your nose pierced. We then see the Czech bench, causing Motson to identify the coach: "Karel Bruckner, 66 years old - the Methuselah of football coaches in the World Cup. Not quite fair on him, Methuselah was several hundred years old if you know your Bible!"

Discussion turns to the Czech team's fitness as the game gets underway, and Bright questions how long the returning Baros can last. Having commented on how Plasil has moved to Nedved's left, Bright points out that Poborsky is playing on the right wing as usual. "He never moves, does he?" observes Motson. "Well he moves [chuckle], but not his starting position! Doing well to keep moving, Poborsky - he's 34!" Baros has the game's first chance, but his "rustiness" causes his first touch to let the ball run away. Meanwhile, Totti puts the ball out of play for an unidentified player to receive treatment. Bright eventually spots that Poborsky is the man receiving treatment on the near side of the pitch, and explains "the reason we couldn't see that is because there's 10 cameras in front of us so we can't see the near touchline." "Yeah, a bit like Cannavaro, we get our excuses in early, Brighty!"
Nedved has a shot from 25 yards which Buffon comfortably gets down to save. "Equal to the save, Buffon. Wasn't a real test for him..." "They must test each other every day in training at Juventus, I would think!" Minutes later Nedved has another go from similar range, but this time Buffon can only palm the ball away towards the oncoming Jankulovski only for the Italian keeper to scramble to his feet and block the second shot as well. Motson's view on the above? "Nedved...and he'll have to be quick, Buffon here - ooh-hoo!"
Nesta is struggling and Materazzi is waiting on the sidelines to replace him. However, Nesta takes so long to slowly meander across from the far side of the pitch that the referee decides to play on without allowing the substitution, much to Bright's delight. "The referee went over and asked him, but he was just borrowing time to get the sub warmed up!"
"Of course, the other intriguing thing about this group is that whoever finishes second, chances are you'll play Brazil in the next round!" "[chuckle]" "That's Mark Bright chuckling, not me!"
"There's big news coming from the other game," teases John before commentating on the action here for several more seconds. "The news coming in is that Ghana have scored against the United States to go 1-0 up there, and if Ghana win they qualify at the expense of one of these, so the drama has already started in this group! It's changed things a little bit because if Ghana were to win they're through!"

Italy win a corner even though the ball seems to come off Gilardino's shin. "Oh, Materazzi! It's a goal and he's got it! Only minutes after coming on! And the Czech Republic here are in deep difficulties! Not only are Ghana in front, the Czech Republic are behind!" Bright isn't impressed with the defending: "You always look for men on the posts and there is none today!" "Good point!""So not the table says Italy are top, Ghana are second, and the Czech Republic are still coming from behind in more ways than one!" (fnar) "Nothing against the Czech Republic here Mark, but if an African team did get through it would be a reward for some of the football the Africans have played."
"You can't get away from the fact we're getting a lot of goals from corners in this World Cup, Mark?" asks John, as an aside. Mark agrees, but is unimpressed with the lack of marking on Materazzi for the goal. John attempts to excuse the Czech defence: "When a substitution's made they have to re-educate the defenders who to mark on corners, eh? Presumably whoever would have picked up Nesta...but then, he didn't always go up..." Bright's having none of it: "Well, the way we've always done it is, it's on a whiteboard before you go out - your name with who your man is, who you mark. The first thing you do when you come back for the corner is look for your man and engage him straight away!" "That's if it's man to man, and not zonal? We're getting a bit technical, aren't we? [chuckle]"
"Look at that flick by Totti, this is Perrotta, and Totti again - you saw a flash of the real Totti there!" Another Italian corner, and "they're marking zonal," warns Mark. It comes to nothing. John's not complaining that the "freak heatwave" during the earlier games has now subsided.

First inadvertent reference by Motson to Czechoslovakia instead of Czech Republic: 1 minute into first half stoppage time

An as-yet-unnamed Czech player slides in and catches Totti's ankle. Motson predicts a yellow card, only for Bright to suggest it will be a second yellow and thus a red. "Oh it is, it's...it's number 19 - he's got to go, he's got to go." Furious stalling from Motson as he tries to remember who the number 19 is. "It's Polak! Red card, two yellows - what a desperate day for the Czech Republic! But there's better news for them from somewhere else because the United States have equalised against Ghana..." We end the half just in time to switch to Simon Brotherton commentate on the penalty that sees Ghana go 2-1 up. It's quite interesting to hear Brotherton bring us BBC1 viewers up to speed without specifically acknowledging our arrival in the traditional BBC Radio fashion ("and we welcome listeners to BBC World Service...").

Marcel is happy with the Ghana scoreline and gives a detailed analysis of that game so far even though we're supposed to be reviewing the other game first. "You can see which game you've been watching!" quips O'Neill. "He's got vision, you remember when he used to play, he's got vision, he's watching everything this afternoon!" excuses Stubbs. "You'd have a word with a player if he did that and got sent off, wouldn't you?" asks Ray to Martin about Polak. "Well, you wouldn't let him into the dressing room to be perfectly honest! I don't know whether to feel sorry for the Czechs or go out and give them the biggest shaking of their lives!" Sounds like O'Neill had the Czechs in the office sweepstake. We briefly review the Ghana penalty, which seems harsh in even Marcel's opinion. Martin says it best: "It's a poor decision. We might be cheering Ghana on, perhaps - because of you [looking at Desailly] - but deep down it's a terrible decision. We're talking about the referees, I don't really want to go into it but I think they should have a word with themselves, have a look at themselves." "You feel really disappointed with that penalty kick incident?" asks Marcel. "No I don't, because I like Ghana a lot..." explains O'Neill, "In the course of life it won't make a great deal of difference..." Marcel compares the poor decision to France's disallowed goal versus South Korea, Martin agrees and Ray sums up by pointing out that these things happen.

"This referee is pedantic on some things but remarkably unconcerned about others!" points out John after some rather pointless fouls are awarded at the start of the second half. Baros is flagged offside though the replay suggests he might have been level. "Oh, d'you know what, I'd give that, let him play on!" suggests Mark. Motson suggests this is a prime opportunity for Totti to prove himself. "Martin O'Neill feels he underachieves an awful lot of the time..."
Motson's impressed by Italy's composure - "bear in mind that they lost Nesta quite early on, didn't they?" "Didn't disrupt them much," agrees Bright. "Well, not really, the sus-stis-tute scored the goal!" concludes John. "We've heard no more from the other match so we assume Ghana are still leading, so it doesn't get any better for the Czechs!"
Rosicky kicks Gatusso on the shin, causing the Italian to stay down as play continues momentarily. Motson is still wondering whether the Czechs should play the ball out a good couple of seconds after the referee has stopped play to check on the stricken Italian. "Is it Pirlo?" asks Bright, before a close-up of excessive stubble identifies it as Gatusso. "Collision of knees there, two players knock knees together. We were talking about this before, if a player goes down and it's not a head injury, should you kick the ball out? Oh, it's not - it's a kick on the shin..."
"Still 2-1 to Ghana I'm now informed, so that means that the Czech Republic are really...unless we see a turnaround the like of which we haven't seen in this World Cup, the Czechs are going out!" A turnaround like, say, Australia v Japan, John? 15 minutes left, and things seem desperate for the Czechs (John suggests they need to either score themselves or hope the US do - even though the latter would be useless without the former). Bright wonders if Bruckner will go for broke and throw Koller on. Motson is adamant (for the first time in about a decade) in predicting he won't appear, expecting Marek Heinz instead. "Just soundbites in the press conferences? Obviously you know otherwise!" suggests Mark of the pre-match speculation that Koller might be used if necessary. "Well, no I don't - it's just they do want to use a bit of kidology sometimes. I think if he was fit enough they'd have used him earlier, that's just the point I'm trying to make!"
Totti scuffs a shot a long way wide. "Go on, talk about Totti!" encourages Motson. "Well, I'm not a great fan! He looks overweight, he's lost that yard or two..." Brighty's definitely not impressed.
Motson's earlier prediction turns out to be correct as Heinz is ready to come on. "Last throw of the dice isn't it?" asks Bright. "Absolutely. Then again you never know." Ah, there's the indecisive Motson we know and tolerate.
"It's Totti again!" Cue a feeble attempted chip that floats gently into Cech's arms. "Tch, tch, tch, tch, tch," Bright tuts. "There's woes and all sorts of whistles from the Italian crowd round the back of the goal. That's woeful!"
"A player who expected to play no part in this match may have won it," observes John, as the Italians march up the pitch looking for a second. Pirlo waltzes through a series of desperate tackles from the knackered Czech defence before flicking the ball up to an unmarked Inzaghi 8 yards out. "Pirlo...still Pirlo... Inzaghi!" Nope, he's headed it wide with almost the entire goal unguarded as Cech was guarding the opposite post anticipating a Pirlo shot. "That Pirlo run reminded me of Ricky Villa in the FA Cup years ago!" notes Mark. "I think Toni will be back for the next game, don't you?" asks Motty.
"You could say, John, that Italy have played with 10 men!" smirks Mark as the ball once again passes by Totti, who's still being whistled by his own fans. "You could say that! It's a point that may well be taken up in the studio if I'm not mistaken!"
"I have to confess I was one of those who thought the Czech Republic could be one of the outsiders in this World Cup," admits John, "but I think when Koller went off it changed everything. Here's Totti, who hasn't changed very much!" The commentators' curse comes into immediate effect as Totti is involved in a quick breakaway as the ball is threaded through to Inzaghi with the entire Czech defence pushed up to the half way line, and it's 2-0. "He timed his run right, didn't he?" asks the uncertain Motson even though Inzaghi was a yard inside his own half when the ball was played.
A replay shows Lippi on the Italian bench as the goal is scored, only to be rudely interrupted by a bizarre celebration by Gatusso. "Look at that! Gatusso's grabbed the coach around the neck! He didn't like that much, did he Lippi?" "I'm sure that's playful?" suggests a clearly amused Bright. "That's got to be one of the enduring images of the World Cup!" "If that's what he does when he's playful, what does he do when he's angry?"
"They've carried Totti for a lot of this game," is Bright's concluding opinion of a conclusive Italian performance. "I was tempted to say for all of it!" remarks Motson. "This isn't about Totti-bashing," concedes Mark, "he's a decent player coming back from injury, but how long do you persist with him at this stage because his productivity's been nil!"

The final whistle blows and we again switch over for the closing minutes of the Ghana-USA match. It appears that Brotherton has no co-commentator, which seems odd considering the BBC's resources. That match also ends, and the Ghanaians have been pluckiest of all the plucky underdogs. We later see Marcel's reaction at the final whistle, a sigh of relief whilst holding one hand up in a victory salute and leaning so far back into his chair that all we can see is his chin. "We thought you were going to fall off the balcony!" laughs Ray. We rush through a brief analysis of the two games - even Martin stops himself mid-sentence with a quick glance to the floor manager - "I can see you're in a hurry!" It's been a bit of a manic afternoon all round, really.

What we've learned: the Czechs are one-trick ponies and will need to either adapt to playing without Koller or start cloning him; Italy can comfortably numb other sides into submission with their patient possession game; and Totti is going to challenge Ronaldo as the media's chosen "has-been" of the tournament.

Togo v France, BBC1Switzerland v South Korea, BBC3

2006-06-24T10:18:00.000+01:00

In times of crisis, when facing a great dilemma, I have learnt to ask myself one thing. I’m sure you do the same. What would Ray Stubbs do? The surefire way of escaping any moral maze. A valentines night out with your lady? Or a valentines night in with the darts? Ask the Tao of Stubbs. A Ted Hankey 9 dart finish later and I’ve not looked back since.

So, today I am confronted with a problem. I am the only Finals Fantasy person available to cover the night shift, and needing to cover two simultaneous games. What would Ray Stubbs do? Well, I noticed yesterday afternoon, with one game on BBC1, and the other on interactive, that Ray was able to guide his punditry team through watching two big tellies at once. What’s good for Stubbsie…

So I’m doubled screened and as such, after complaining about last nights BBC3 broadcast not having it’s own dedicated build-up, I’m quite glad for a homogenised group chunter this evening. Needless to say, the French match is the focus what with them needing to win. Gary Lineker opens the show, “France must do something they haven’t done for 20 years, win a World Cup match abroad. It just doesn’t add up.” Making sure people don’t forget that England are still a concern, he adds, “the biggest name to go out of the cup so far is Michael Owen, France could change that,” dribbling at the prospect of delivering to us the first proper shock of the competition.

However as the papers are full of Alan Shearer guff, they soon probe their colleague about the supposed England coaching job. Apparently he had a phone call with McLaren a few weeks ago, but that is where it has been left. Last night, it was “first I’ve heard of it.” Mmm… Martin O’Neill’s presence allows further insight, “you’re name was mentioned in my interview…I said no” he gags before appearing to backtrack, “I hadn’t worked with you then. Now that I have…it’s still no.” Gotta love him.

Gary tries to wrestle the conversation back to today’s game. “Lots of Togo’s players play in the French lower leagues,” he says, “but France can take heart from the fact England thrashed Trinidad & Tobago in similar circumstances”. The smirk and eye-roll are, of course, in perfect unison. Martin O’Neill believes France may gain from Zidane being suspended, as that may free up Thierry Henry. Marcel isn’t so sure, sucking in a big intake of breath at the thought.

It’s back to England soon though and Lineker is able to probe Sven, “In hindsight, do you wish you picked an extra striker?” “No” says Sven, his heels taking such firm root, a display of chrysanthemums are displaced 20 yards from hi seat. With regards the Ecuador formation, Gary asks “Have you made your mind up yet?” “Yes.” Sven says, his cards buried as deep as possible into his inconsiderable chestal tuft. Martin O’Neill is not so convinced as the others as the quality of Gary’s probing. “He’s not going to turn round and tell you, especially you Gary, that he hasn’t brought enough strikers.”

Ivan Gaskill is then with us, reporting from the French camp and a press conference given by Patrick Viera and Mikael Silvestre’s upturned butternut squash of a head. “There’s the team, Marcel, do you like it?” asks Gary, like he’s presenting him with a birthday caricature that didn’t turn out as flattering as they’d planned.

Now it comes the point to split. They clearly believe no-one is really going to be watching the Swiss game, sending Steve Wilson in on his own. Stevie goes through all the permutations, as does Jonathon Pearce, covering the France game on BBC1 with Mark Bright. Like clockwork, both teams emerge from their respective tunnels, and line up for the anthems, Togo’s Kosi Agassa appearing to do the twist in preparation.

I know before the World Cup you were probably thinking about what your favourite anthems would be. En route I’ve discovered I’m a sucker for Japans. Soulwax fans amongst you may also have been wondering which of the anthems would make for a good mash up. Well, I’m here to tell you that the Swiss and Togolese anthems merge like Baileys into Guinness. The Korean and French ones together do get a groove going, but as the Swiss one has banged on for fackin’ ever, the synch is out and we don’t get to explore that musical experiment for very long. The games then kick off about 5 seconds apart. It’s not long before we get our first sight of suave Togo coach Otto Pfister and, recklessly, he’s in a light shirt again but, thankfully, he’s remembered his cream jacket, which will hopefully mask his heavy underarm leakage.

South Korea get the first opportunity of the evening, Lee Chung-Soo sending a pass shooting in front of everybody along the six yard line. Ten seconds later in the other game, David Trezeguet puts in a sighter than shoots past Agassa’s left hand post. He misses again after seven minutes, his header requiring Agassa to spring quickly and push it over the bar. This really is the story of his game, as he misses chance after chance after chance. Not that Togo aren’t having their own opportunities, Adebayor forcing Barthez to be sharp once or twice. “I like [Adebayor], as a player” says Bright, making it clear that he, like the rest of the world, thinks him otherwise to be a prize funt. “Togo are looking bright and purposeful” says Pearce, suppressing a splutter. Within a minute though, France have the ball in the net, Trezeguet (again), tapping in from 6 yards out, but he is ruled offside. Within a minute, Malouda brings a flashy dive from Agassa.

Over at the other game, the Swiss break and Barnetta is free to bomb at the keeper but there is a fine run and tackle to cut him off just as he is about to pull the trigger. A little while later, ref Horacio Elizondo gets in the way of the ball. Queen bitch Wilson sees his opportunity “Not the worst referring mistake we’ve had in the last 24 hours.” On the South Korea bench we see Docker Dick Advocaat motioning to one of his players like he’s trying to stop them cleaning his windscreen at a traffic light. The shooting gallery continues in Cologne, Agassa dealing well with everything that is being flung his way, Togo escaping their half when they can.

In the 23rd minute, Hakan Yakin swings a gorgeous cross into the box, Phillip Senderos pulling back his sack of onions ‘ead, flinging it forward as though it’s on elastic, and meeting the ball beautifully to send it into the far corner. So powerful is the header though, that his skull follows through and crash-test-dummies into that of Choi Jin-Chui. As Senderos wheels away, a stream of blood starts on its increasingly rapid journey down his nose, while Jin Chui is left with seemingly a number of cuts on his swede. It is a few minutes before either return from being patched up on the sidelines, Jin-Chui’s gauze held in place by a minimalist tea-cosy of a hair-net, which later gives the BBC1 team plenty to giggle about in their dealings with the first half highlights. Replaying the goal once more, Swiss gaffer Kobi Kuhn is seen in front of his bench shaking his fists, his mouth gleefully wide open, like an excited infant getting a waft of rusk.

In the meantime, it seems fairly end to end in the other game, with France looking, as would be expected, much tbe better side, Agassa is not able to rest for even a brief second. Otto Pfister, in his yacht-party jacket on the touchline, is gesturing wildly, possibly trying to ascertain the potential availability of a glass of Pimms. Once again Trezeguet has a chance, causing Agassa to jump on the ball twice on the goal-line. Trez is offside again, but “Agassa is having a night to remember.” Mark Bright says so, and my right eye agrees.

At half time, Shearer discusses Trezeguet “he’s always there, but he looks nervous to me”. Martin, however, thinks France are doing okay. On BBC3, once again they’ve locked Manish out on the balcony, this time with Gavin Peacock, to crowd around their Trevor Bayliss wind-up telly. Looking again at the Senderos goal, “he had to be really brave” they agree, a wince clear in their eyelids. “Is naivety something they’ll benefit from?” asks Manish of Switzerland’s young side, hoping VT can be found of at least one of them going in at half-time sucking their thumb.

Synchronicity occurs once again for the second half kick-offs. Togo are given a rough offside decision early on, it’s moot though as Adebayor bottles out of a challenge of Barthez, but Pearce is nonetheless indignant “poor offside decisions have blighted these finals” he moans. In the 53rd minute, Thierry Henry back heels in the box leaving Florent Malouda free to cut the ball back to Ribery who, yet again, blasts over the bar. “The longer this game goes, the more anxious they’re going to be.” They don’t have to wait long though to get the rewards for their attacking pressure, as two minutes later Ribery strolls into the box, passing into Viera’s feet and he hits a curling shot on the turn to finally breach Agassa’s heroic wall. Is that the seal broken, you wonder. Indeed, it is only 5 minutes later that France virtually guarantee themselves progression to the knockouts, Viera nodding a long ball to the feet of Henry, who mirrors the first goal, slamming into the other corner on the turn, before cupping an ear to the crowd.

In the 64th minute, Alexander Frei hits Korea on the break, welting his shot against the outside of the post then at the other end a Korean point blank header is tipped over by Pascal Zuhberbuhler. Back in Cologne, and it’s a procession for France but nothing further is added, “Once again David Trezeguet has not taken a big chance on the big stage in the big tournament” exclaims Pearce as he wastes another gilt-edged opportunity.

The Swiss then add a second of their own. Frei breaks behind he Korean defence, rounds the keeper and screws the ball home, “He’s put it in the net for once” sniffs Wilson, believing it not to count as the linesman had flagged. Despite the referee clearly over-ruling the linesman due to the fact a Korean foot supplied the final pass, Steve wails “the flag was, the flag was up” over and over again, and occasionally for the next few minutes, during which time the Koreans create a number of excellent chances but come up against a very much in-form Zuberbuhler (zero goals conceded in the group, nay bad). Out of the corner of my eye, it appears at the France game, Platini is getting amongst a Mexican wave, while the Togo fans, most of whom, despite the replica shirts, do not appear native to Africa, are into a conga-line which drags in the German and other neutrals along the way. Why not, it gets really serious as of tomorrow, as the pundits are keen to point out as they wrap up later.

When the whistle blows, we see weeping Korean players and fans. In their discussion of the highlights of this secondary game, the pundits fall over themselves to praise the referee for his actions in over-ruling his assistant. “If it had been Graham Poll, he’d have waved play on three times” quips Gary, and is ignored, so he tries “Uruguayan officials…should we be calling for Montevideo evidence.” And is, again, ignored. An expert soundman muffles the sound of him stamping his feet in tantrum.

“Enjoyed the game”, he asks Shearer. “Yeah” says Alan, sounding bored, but appears to realise that, adding “it’s been really good” like he’s trying not to sound sarcastic, but only sounds more so for it.

“Let the fun begin” says Gary, to close.

Iran v Angola, ITV2

2006-06-23T19:40:00.000+01:00

And so we reach this World Cup's supposed battle of the minnows - the game most quoted by non-obsessives as justification for moving the tournament away from BBC1 and ITV1 onto minor channels. Such as, for example ITV2, where we are today, but never mind, eh? We see only fleeting glimpses of the now-infamous framed carpet that serves as Iran's pennant, as we're frustratingly at an advert break during the coin toss, but its solitary appearance is during the anthems when it almost completely obscures the mascot tasked to hold onto it.

For the first time in the tournament, there are obviously masses of empty seats - indeed your correspondent was on the FIFA website just 24 hours earlier, idly pondering whether to pay £400 for a ticket and last-minute flight to Leipzig. Common sense, laziness and an unrelated culinary mishap soon put that thought out of my mind, so instead I sit here in the company of Peter Brackley and Clive Allen.

Mehdi Mahdavikia gets his first touch, allowing Peter to remind us of Iran's finest hour. "He enjoys iconic status back in Iran after scoring against the USA. Six years ago to the day, that 2-1 win over the Americans in France '98. Never to be forgotten." Brackley might not have forgotten the game, but he clearly has forgotten what year this is (clue: "six years ago to the day" was slap bang in the middle of Euro 2000, not World Cup 1998).

"There isn't a high tempo to the game at the moment," is Clive's early assessment as the camera switches to the dancing Angola fans. "There seems to be more tempo on the terraces!" "They are so keen to promote their once war-ravaged country aren't they, the Angolans?" suggests Brackley, perhaps underestimating the resources of the Angolan tourist board.

Discussion turns to the record-breaking exploits of Ali Daei, whose 109-goal international record beats Clive's "by 108", according to Brackley. Actually by 109, but it's rather cruel to remind Allen of his brief England career.

Peter informs us of Portugal's goal against Mexico, "which is of course bad news for the Angolans." Exceptionally good news, actually, but Clive doesn't dare correct him. "It's the other way round, isn't it?" he eventually deduces. "Good news for them! Sorry, I was getting confused there for a second!"

First reference to Angola's goalkeeper being without a club: 13th minute.

"He can be a bit of an enigmatic character, Akwa," suggests Peter as the Angolan forward is flagged offside. "He has a playboy reputation - he's the Clive Allen of Angolan football!"

Two Angolans injure themselves within the space of a couple of minutes, as first Mateus and then Loco require the stretcher. Little sympathy is shown towards the latter, as Clive instead opt to pass judgement on Loco's bizarre bald-except-for-a-few-dreadlocks-at-the-front hairstyle. "You should commentate with Ray Wilkins, he'd spend all day doing his hair, then leave the flipping thing at home!" advises Brackley.
No news on whether there is more than one stretcher per venue or whether Mateus was unceremoniously dumped on the sidelines once the second injury occurred.

"An oil tycoon has promised a £100,000 house for the first man who does score for Angola!" reveals Peter, as the gloriously-named Love - on as a sub for Mateus - scuffs a shot weakly into the keeper's arms. What, including an own goal?

Loco is back on the pitch, but looks distinctly uncomfortable as the ball deflects off him for an Iranian corner. Clive reckons the coach will want him to stay on until half time if he can. "His hairdresser will too, think of the sponsorship!" chuckles Peter. "That's what it was, a free haircut, was it?" realises Clive.The corner comes in and is unwittingly cleared off the line by Mendonca, who barely seems to react as the ball rebounds off his stomach and clear.

Angola get four corners in a row, which must be some kind of record, and even their fourth attempt is deflected behind only for the referee to miss it and give a goal kick.

"Love going nowhere," observes Peter as the Angolan sub runs into a posse of Iranian defenders. "Is that a song, Peter?" asks Clive. "Felt like one! Can't say one was coming on..." is the reply.

"In injury time we have another injury!" comments Peter as Iranian keeper Mirzapour gets clattered when reaching up to collect the ball. Sure enough, the first half doesn't end until the 51st minute.

Into the second half, and Peter reports on Mexico's missed penalty and red card. "It's all happening in that match," he says enviously. "Not a lot in this one at the moment, I'm afraid." Ze Kalanga throws himself to the floor inside the area, one of the more blatant dives seen in the tournament so far. No booking though, much to Clive Allen's annoyance. Ze Kalanga's next touch is to swing in a cross to the unmarked Flavio, who heads the ball home. "Now! Now there is hope! It's a long shot but they have a fighting chance!"

Peter notes that Flavio was the only Angolan in the box when he scored the goal, with fellow striker Love further back. "As the Supremes would say, you can't hurry Love!" "Boom boom!" "I can't believe I just said that but I did!"

Angolan captain Figueiredo comes off, and struggles to remove his armband in the process. On comes Rui Marques ("the Hull City player who was reluctant to play for Angola, until they got to the World Cup!"). Meanwhile, that cumbersome captain's armband is causing Jamba some difficulties as well, and in a clip that will surely be replayed in video montages for years to come, he is assisted in putting it on by Iran's Rasoul Khatibi.

Mahdavikia swings over a corner for Iran. "Oh, and it's there! And it's Bakhtiarizadeh! The man with the unpronounceable name has come up with the equaliser! Bakhtiarizadeh - it's some name, and that was some header! Just about the hardest name I've ever had to pronounce!"

Iran spend the final ten minutes looking for a winner, whilst Angola seem to have given up hope and are trying to settle for a draw. A rare Angolan free-kick in stoppage time is tapped weakly by Mendonca straight to the keeper. "It's not going to happen for them now, Angola, but they will treasure the part they've played in this World Cup group," says Brackley. "It's finished in Leipzig, Iran 0...er, Iran 1, I should say, Angola 1!"

What we've learned: erm...some of the Angolan players have got funny names? No, hang on, I can do better than that - er, Loco's got a funny haircut? Hmm, nope. Just about nothing to be learned from this game, sorry.

Portugal v Mexico, ITV1

2006-06-23T19:36:00.000+01:00

(Yes, late again. Apologies everyone!)

After Tuesday's four-part build up to the England game, Wednesday's quadruple-header on ITV will be a review of last night's action (although if they spend more than a cursory glance during the Holland-Argentina game, there'll be trouble). Michael Owen is out of the World Cup, Jim is sad to inform us as we see the super slow-mo camera angle of his knee twist yet again - not ideal viewing for viewers with queasy stomachs, believe me. Ally McCoist "not having" Sam Allardyce's opinion that Joe Cole's goal is the best of the tournament so far - "the Argies have still got it for me!"

"I've just been handed a very sad bit of news," suggests Jim in his best Neville Chamberlain impression as we return from the break. "Michael Owen has ruptured his anterior cruciate ligament." A rather insipid VT piece about Scolari leads onto discussion of today's teams, and Jim is "delighted for everybody watching" that Figo has come out of international retirement. Oh, now we're all chuckling at Mexico's excessive number of friendlies played in preparation for the cup, and we're told they're aiming to reach the semi-finals. "If they do, I'm sure one or two sombreros will be going in the air!" suggests Rosenthal, apparently rather aggrieved at the number of rowdy Mexican fans in the ITV hotel last night.

"So what's it to be - the devil or the deep blue sea?" suggests Clive Tyldesley - today's surprising choice of commentator for the lesser of two groups - in reference to the prospective 2nd round opponents facing Group D's qualifiers. "It does look like the group of doom! The benefits of winning this section might be fringe benefits!" We're in Gelsenkirchen, and Clive still hasn't got over the novelty of a retractable roof. "Slightly eerie to be watching a match indoors. They also have a sliding pitch, let's hope that doesn't start to move during the game!"

"It is a match between two of the top 7 teams in world football - official! The FIFA rankings, the hit parade of the international game place Portugal at number 7 and Mexico at 4!" Clive's diatribe is luckily interrupted by the anthems, and the increasingly annoying trend of mascots to jump and wave to try to appear in shot as the camera pans along the teams (luckily the Mexican trait of placing their outstretched hands parallel to their hearts seems to act as a ceiling to the more boisterous kids). "A draw will suit both teams," points out Clive. "Let's hope the handshakes that follow now aren't too friendly!" One rather enthusiastic Mexican singing along looked rather like Sinbad from Brookside, incidentally.

Kick-off, and the ball immediately finds its way back to the Portuguese keeper, who sells a dummy to the onrushing striker. "Very calmly done by Ricardo, but then England know all about his footwork, don't they Gareth Southgate - it was his penalty that beat us in the end?" "Sadly it was, he's a very confident guy as we can see there, it takes some, er, it takes some balls to do that in the first couple of minutes!" You can't say that on daytime TV!

"Ooh, slid back in towards Maniche, beautifully worked. Portugal take the lead, Maniche has got the goal! Delightfully set up by Simao and joyously celebrated by the man whose goal took Portugal to the European finals two years ago!" Gareth develops a temporary stutter, telling us it was a "really worked worked goal".

Bravo volleys the ball just wide for Mexico. "I just wonder if he might have been better throwing himself there with his head?" suggests Gareth. "There speaks a central defender!"

"He is a World Cup winner, La Volpe," Clive points out as the camera shows the Mexican coach. "He was Argentina's third-choice goalkeeper at the 1978 finals. He didn't play, but he did sit on the bench - ironically behind a chain-smoking coach, Cesar Luis Menotti. Maybe that's where he got the habit!"

Gareth is somewhat unimpressed with Marquez being moved up from defence to midfield, and spends much of the first half pointing out that he should know as a central defender himself. Look, we know you haven't developed a co-commentary 'style' yet, but please don't become some kind of Geoffrey Boycott-esque know-all.

"Yellow card for Perez," announces Clive just as a caption appears stating that Rodriguez was in fact booked for a foul on Maniche. The free kick is deflected behind for a corner. "Simao trying to make a nuisance of himself," comments Clive as he and Pineda practically hold hands on the goal line whilst jostling for position. "Ooh, there's a hand up there, you know. It's a penalty, thought so! Marquez had a raised arm and just palmed the ball away. He claims he was pushed in the back, oh I don't think so. I think he knew what he was doing, don't you?" "He knew what he was doing, but what he was doing was ridiculous really! It's incredible how many times we see that - a player, almost an involuntary movement of the hand..."

The resulting penalty sees Sanchez try to be clever by standing (well, actually weaving from side to side) off-centre within his goal. Unfortunately for him, Simao is only too happy to blast it into the resulting gap. "That's so off-putting, when a goalkeeper's going through all that routine!" suggests Gareth. "Celebrity poker, that!" notes Clive, desperately attempting to shill ITV's forthcoming series.

Perez raises his foot too high when challenging for the ball and the referee reaches for his pocket. Tyldesley is expecting the worst: "I thought he'd picked up the card before?" It's just a yellow, and Clive is confused, leaving Gareth to fill for a few moments: "The Mexicans need a foothold in the game, cos the way it's going they're going out of the tournament. If Angola score, Mexico have got it all to do!" "They're going to score again here if they're not careful!" warns Clive as Portugal break again. "Well, they're just running rings around them and it's the midfield area where Portugal are killing them!"

"It was the tall defender Rodriguez who picked up the first yellow card, so no mistake by the official," admits Clive after someone whispers in his ear. In the meantime, a Mexican free kick reaches Bravo at the far post - "and somehow Ricardo kept it out!" "He's an unorthodox keeper at the best of times but he's done extremely well to scoop that one over the bar!" compliments Gareth. We see the Portuguese number 3 Caneira hug Ricardo for perhaps a little too long for comfort after the save. "His left-back was very very grateful, wasn't he? Not sure the save was quite that good!" "Bonus must be good!" agrees Southgate.Sadly for Ricardo and his homoerotic celebrating friends, Fonseca heads the ball home from the Mexican corner that follows. "It's almost a carbon copy of the goal England let in last night," notes Gareth.

Controversy, as Pardo has a shot from distance which Ricardo palms away. However, Bravo - who had been hunched over in an offside position seemingly catching his breath - suddenly realises the ball is headed his way, causing Caneira to rush back and boot the ball out. "He didn't seem to make an effort for it," offers Clive by way of excuse for the non-decision, but Gareth's having none of it. "He has to be offside, they've conceded a corner that he's had a big influence in. He's blocking the view of the goalkeeper!" "Unless you touch it under the current ruling, there's every chance you're not going to be flagged!"

The corner comes in, Maniche brings Mendez down on the edge of the area ("waved away, the appeals"), then the ball is swung in only for Fonseca to kick the keeper instead of the ball and Marquez to be surprised when the ball deflects up onto his chin. "How didn't they score there?" wonders Clive and the entire population of Mexico. "Goalkeeper is in the back of the net injured..." "I tell you what, the goalie didn't fancy that one at all!" relishes a rather bitter Southgate. "That all came from that corner decision - a player's stood right in front of the goalkeeper, he has to be gaining an advantage!" Clive's reading of the official FIFA notes issued prior to the tournament suggest that unless a player touches the ball, he won't be offside ("he could even step over the ball without being flagged!")

"Marquez has had a change of tyres during that pit-stop!" That'll be a change of boots, then?

"Mexico go in two goals to the good," begins Rosenthal during half-time before immediately correcting himself. "A lot of you have been asking about our opening titles music," says Jim, segueing neatly from the expensive analysis into the moneyspinning corporate promotion. "You can get it as a digital download!" Er, no thanks. Onto talk of England, and "Let me repeat the sad news that Michael Owen's World Cup is over!" The England report overruns and Rosenthal hands back to Tyldesley barely in time. "Thanks Jim, bang on cue!" observes Clive as the second half kicks off.

Zinha comes on at half time, allowing Clive to remind us all that he's a naturalised Brazilian and one of two 'foreign' players who've taken Mexican nationality in recent years. Unusually, he doesn't take the opportunity to work in a cricket reference when a comparison with the likes of Kevin Pietersen could justifiably be made.

After a lacklustre start to the second half, Miguel attempts a desperate lunging tackle in the area only to be wrong-footed as the ball changes direction and actually hits his arm on the ground which is cushioning his fall. It's another penalty - "bit harsh" according to Southgate, who appears not to see that Miguel's arm not only touches the ball but also trips Perez."Two down inside 25 minutes, and now a chance for Omar Bravo to bring Mexico on terms... Oh, he's smashed it high over the bar! What a let-off for Portugal!" "A big let-off," agrees Southgate. "You're not going to find me telling people how to take penalties, by the way!" "More Waddle than Southgate, wasn't it?" offers Clive. "Yeah, you've got to hit the target!" La Volpe seems unimpressed by the miss: "Now, it's no accident that there's nobody sitting very close to the rather volatile coach of Mexico right now - they've all sort of edged away from him for a bit, let him calm down..."

An unidentified Mexican bundles into the referee in an attempt to collect a loose ball, only for the ref to in turn bundle into the oncoming Portuguese player Maniche. "That's a foul by the referee!" quips Clive. "Absolutely cleaned him out!" agrees Gareth.

"Oh-and-a-chance-too-at-the-end-of-it-all-for-Mexico-and-another-penalty..." says Clive in about a quarter of a second, before composing himself. "No - he's gone the other way, he's given it for diving!" A replay shows Perez to be the apparently-guilty party, although it's slightly harsh to say he intentionally threw himself to the ground since he was under pressure from the equally culpable Miguel. Tyldesley, still confused by the mistaken identity of Mexico's first booking earlier, gets his man at last: "He's booked Perez...now, he booked him in the first half? Now he does go! It is a red card for Perez - for me, no penalty, no card. I don't think either was necessary there..."

"That's the first time he's sat down!" notes Clive as we see Scolari retire from the technical area back to the bench. "He did sit down with Brian Barwick during the last week in April..."

Angola have taken the lead against Iran, much to the apparent ignorance of the Mexican supporters, as the sudden anxious roar from the crowd that you get on the final day of the English league season is conspicuous by its absence.

Scolari gesticulates instructions furiously to the oncoming substitute Nuno Gomes. "'Now have you got the message before you go on, do you know what you're doing or would you like me to go over it again?'" observes Clive. "Nuno Gomes getting told off even before he's come on!" Gareth is suddenly possessed by the ghost of Big Ron as he chuckles through the following witticism: "I tell you what, Big Phil down there is going absolutely mad. He's throwing his hands in the air every time they give the ball away!" "I'd love to see a tussle between the two coaches of these two countries, it'd be better than the game!" admits a bloodthirsty Tyldesley. "These Mexicans don't cut easily though," comments Gareth, possibly mistaking Mexican footballers for diamonds.

Paolo Ferreira attempts a tackle from behind on Fonseca in the corner of the penalty area, but the referee chooses to ignore it and gives a corner. Clive is furious! "What on earth was he doing coming through from the back there? Oh, he didn't get anywhere near the ball! The referee was four paces away looking at him! When he made the tackle you thought 'why?', and then you thought 'well, how on earth's he got the ball from behind?', and the truth is he didn't. The referee could not have been better placed. That was a penalty!"

Portugal's second half performance has been pretty dismal, and Clive suggests that the reserve players out there today who had impressed in the first half will have "returned to the bench in the manager's mind in the last half hour".

"News from Leipzig which is music to Mexican ears." Yes, Iran have equalised against Angola, allowing the next five minutes to pass by largely without incident. "Well, they've enjoyed themselves," suggests Clive as we see the Mexican supporters react a little more obviously to news of the second goal in the other match. "Enjoyed themselves outside my hotel room at 2 o'clock this morning!" "Breakfast was quite lively as well, wasn't it?" reminds Southgate. "One or two came straight in from wherever they were... And we're at the same hotel tonight, so come on Portugal! I don't think it matters to the Mexicans whether they qualify - 'we will not sleep!'" (That last bit was delivered in a mock-Mexican accent that sounded more like an Allo-Allo-esque German tone, but nobody ever suggested Clive is a master impressionist).

"Wasn't a very good fall, was it?" opines Clive as Franco tumbles over in the area much more theatrically than Perez, yet doesn't even pick up a yellow card. The comedy never stops as Sanchez in the Mexican goal tries to quickly release the ball with a two-handed underarm bowl that gets caught in Marquez's feet, allowing Tiago to quickly try a 30-yard lob over the stranded keeper that sails over the bar whilst an embarrassed Sanchez dives Superman-style into the back of his own net whilst tracking the ball. "It's all going on!" announces Southgate whilst attempting to summarise the above manic 15 second spell.

"I was just wondering if there's anyone on the field who hasn't had a yellow card? How many is that now?" ponders Southgate as Boa Morte becomes the latest recipient of a yellow card. "Seven, I think is the answer to your question," answers Clive after a short delay. "Good effort by the ref - keeps his averages up!" bemoans Gareth. "The ref's still got a couple of minutes to get another yellow as well!"

"Last of the 90, with two more minutes to come," announces Clive, shortly before the fourth official indicates 3 extra minutes, not 2. "Might get to 50 fouls before the end," he continues as a caption shows Portugal to be 28-18 up on that count. Make that 29-18 as Nuno Gomes collects the game's 8th yellow. Gareth is like a kid at Christmas, giggling at the referee living up to his expectations: "He did it! He got it in!"

The game ends with Portugal certain of topping the group and Mexico waiting for news of the unfinished other match, but ITV can't stick around to cover that and we're off for a break. Ally's "not having" Bravo's skied penalty, "not having" the sending off, and thought the referee had a shocker ("I can't remember a bad tackle!"). Jim wraps things up: "Our final thoughts have to be with Michael Owen, whose World Cup is sadly over."

What we've learned: Portugal's reserves are better than Mexico's best team; Ally's not having much today; and Jim is sad to say that Michael Owen sadly is sadly out of the Sad World Cup. Sadly.

Japan v Brazil, BBC1

2006-06-23T17:50:00.000+01:00

"Welcome to this largely irrelevant Group F fixture" says Gary. "Honestly, if only we'd not had this one listed in the Radio Times we could have shown you Croatia v Australia instead, which is probably going to end up as the most extraordinary game of the tournament, but we did and so we're not." All right, so he didn't say that. Look, I was on a train and missed the build-up and the first 23 minutes of the match. You could tell me that anything had happened during this time - Hansen had stopped pretending to be grumpy, one of Lineker's puns had been amusing, Leonardo had said something slightly interesting, anything at all - and I'd believe you. (I'm guessing that none of this happened as otherwise Skif would have mentioned it, but we can but hope.) As it is, I've got nothing. Well, Brazil looked quite good in the couple of minutes I saw while waiting in the chip shop (yeah, I know, but if you’re going to be late you may as well be slightly later and not hungry), but that's not really the sort of comprehensive analysis you're looking for.

I can tell you about the high spots of the first half hour, because they showed them at half time - Robinho dancing through the defence and shooting narrowly over; Juninho's rasping shot from Ronaldo's astute knockback being brilliantly tipped over by Kawaguchi. And I can say that in the first five minutes or so that I actually managed to see, Brazil were finally beginning to look half-decent - Robinho popping up all over the place, Cicinho bombing up and down the right flank, Ronaldinho skipping gaily through clumps of defenders as if he hadn't a care in the world. Even Ronaldo broke into a trot at one point, with a smart turn and shot narrowly wide inspiring Steve Wilson into an ill-advised simile comparing him to "a postcard of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel; you recognise it but it's a pale imitation of the real thing". Lawrenson doesn't resist the obvious rejoinder. We shall.

Naturally, then, Japan score, Inamoto setting (cue oft-mentioned fact of the match) the Brazilian-born Alex away, Alex supplying a most un-Japanese astute pass in the last third of the pitch, Tamada slipping the leaden-footed Lucio and managing an equally un-Japanese like finish. Japan have been possibly the single most frustrating team in the tournament. They'd be tremendous fun to watch - resolute in defence, accurate and quick with their passing, speedy on the break - but for, with this one glorious exception, their utter ineptitude in the last third of the pitch. If they'd had a decent forward this could have been a Holland v Argentina-esque facile kickaround and Graham Poll would have had a quiet evening and a second round match to look forward to. Really.

Lawro suggests that Brazil can only get better; Steve points out that we've been waiting for them to do so all World Cup. Even though they have the ball for the remainder of the half, it's still a bit of a surprise when they equalise right at the end of the added-on minute, Cicinho's excellent header back across goal leaving Ronaldo a fairly simple finish. The finger-wagging celebration doesn't look nearly so impressive given his current girth; he looks less like a great player and, particularly given the white shorts Brazil are wearing for this fixture, more like the nappy-wearing bloke on the posters for Jerry Springer: The Opera.

Half time. Hansen isn't happy:

"They're playing without a centre forward."
"He's just scored!"
"He can't run!"

Hansen then slightly contradicts himself by suggesting that Ronaldo runs like a penguin. Curiously, he then feels the need to explain to Leonardo what a penguin is. I know it's not native to Brazil, but surely the penguin isn't such an obscure animal that a cultured chap like Leonardo wouldn't know what one is? Surely he must have at least seen that episode of Pingu with all the weeing, or been curious as to what that bloke in Batman was supposed to be? (Ronaldo's running style reminds me more of sometime Charlton player turned lardbucket Ryman League figure of scorn Peter Garland, but that's obscure even for this blog.) There's a compilation of Ronaldo's good and bad moments, supposedly to show how poor he's been, but surely picking anyone's four worst moments of any half could suggest that they're the biggest duffer in the tournament? (There should be a name for this sort of thing; "Hargreaves' Paradigm", perhaps.) There's much cooing over Srna's free kick for Croatia and Martin O'Neil points out that Zeljko Kalac was at Leicester when he arrived: "he's reserve keeper at Milan now, I wouldn't have expected that". Ho ho. Before he gets the chance to mention the play-off final or the Italian corruption scandal it's off for the second half. "I wouldn't say Ronaldo is off and running" says Steve, the wag.

Japan, now needing two goals, start the second half by piling men behind the ball and letting Brazil do as they like. As astute tactical moves go, this is up with Poland trying to hang on for 0-0 against Germany and Angola taking off all of their forwards when 1-0 down to Portugal, and when Juninho's shot swerves through Kawaguchi's hands it's all that they deserve. "Portsmouth fans will have memories flooding back" says Steve of the keeper's horrible flap at the ball; Lawro laughs for slightly too long. Gilberto (the reserve left-back, not to be confused with Gilberto Silva) slots home the third after being allowed to wander up the pitch as he likes. It's a good evening for all of the Brazilian players brought in for the night, Cicinho and Robinho in particular looking more impressive than the players they replaced. The team for the next match is going to be very interesting.

Japan completely fall apart at this point. The hapless Maki, apparently unable to time a run to stay onside, is replaced by Takahara, who hobbles off injured within five minutes. Many of their breaks forward are thwarted by Gilberto Silva (the reserve holding midfielder, not to be confused with Gilberto), leading to Lawro trumping Steve for ill-advised similes by referring to him as being "like the boy in the dyke". Because he plugs holes, you see. Yes. Ronaldo thumps home the fourth to tie Gerd Muller’s record - mind you, given the way that Japan are defending at this point, Gerd probably could have come on and notched a couple as well - and briefly changing channels while the tubby one celebrates reveals that something ridiculous might be about to happen on BBC3, which is where I stay for the next ten minutes. (In the name of thoroughness - yeah, better late than never, I know - I taped the rest of the match that I was supposed to be reporting on and watched it later. Nothing much happened.) So that's a match report based on about 58 minutes of football then. Finals Fantasy - we're nothing if not comprehensive.

What we've learned: Brazil are back, possibly, although in truth it's difficult to tell with such easily-deflated opposition; if you're going to throw a sick day for any match in the tournament, it should probably be Brazil v Ghana; if you're a very fat woman with a very loud voice and absolutely no sense of tact whatsoever, you shouldn't go to visit anyone in hospital as you're bound to offend someone sooner or later (probably sooner).

Adwatch

2006-06-23T14:11:00.000+01:00

Carling v Carlsberg

Carling and Carlsberg - both cooking lager, but who comes out on top in the advertising stakes?

Carling have simply revived their shirts v skins street football match advert from months ago, but accompanied it with a second, shorter ad in which Andy Gray gets to rewind the tape, get his big white pen out and talk us through exactly how the goal is scored. Unsurprisingly it's as enlightening and amusing as his co-commentary on Sky (ie not at all), and as forced in its animated delivery style as his commentary contributions to countless computer games (ie very).

Carlsberg too have opted for a spot of recycling, digging out the "best flatmates in the world" ad for another hurrah simply because it concludes with the prospective tenant being shown onto a balcony overlooking a football stadium.

But they've also come up with a new, very long advert featuring England heroes of the past playing in a team centred on the pub The Old Lion (see what they've done there?). Sir Bobby Robson is the manager, and there are also appearances from Peter Beardsley, Alan Ball, the Charlton brothers, Chris Waddle, Terry Butcher, Peter Reid, Bryan Robson, John Barnes, Des Walker, Stuart Pearce and Peter Shilton.

Of course, the laughs are forced, and who wants to contemplate the type of underwear worn by Monkey's Heed? But the incredulity with which Jack Charlton receives his booking for shirt pulling still raises a smile and as a whole it's almost enough to pierce my cynicism.

I say "almost" because, although the ad knocks Carling's efforts into a cocked hat, it nevertheless reminds me of Carlsberg's status as "the official beer of the England team" - somewhat bizarre, given the company's insistence in their ads for Carlsberg Export upon the lager's Danish origins. Patriotism my arse. It's all a load of commercial nonsense. Don't be sucked in.

Croatia v Australia, BBC3

2006-06-23T09:04:00.000+01:00

Fuck you BBC, my Radio Times promised me pub landlord Ray Stubbs building up to this game in his own strand. Instead BBC1 and 3 share a build up, which largely centres on the Brazil game. Tight gits. Eventually, after all the guff about Brazil, Lineker leads us into the split, with us Freeview jockeys the first to leave, joining Guy Mowbray and Gavin Peacock. “It’s all down to how these two do tonight,” says our commentator, marvelling at the Australian support, “Going walkabout in Europe, absolutely thousands of them.” Is it me, or was that a sly Aussie bar chain pun in there? He later adds a little perspective, “52,000 Croatian born people in Australia, 20,000 Australians inside this stadium.”

They discuss Guus Hiddink’s surprise decision to drop Mark Schwarzer in favour of Hammer Horror butler Zeljko Kalac who, despite being 6’ 8”, still isn’t tall enough to stop Darijo Srna’s second minute free-kick from curling into the top corner. A blistering start, “fans in Croatia will be glad Graham Poll didn’t play that advantage” says Guy. Australia seem a little edgy after this, “the Socceroos have to settle down” instructs Guy, like a detached playschool teacher amidst a food fight. However once they do get going, they have a good shout for a penalty when Viduka is brought down. Poll ignores him.

Already, on the bench, the Croatian gaffer is getting very excitable, his frenzied gestures looking like an opera ham finally giving in at a cast party to requests that he ‘do that David Brent dance thing you do, Martin.’ “Cat on a hot tin roof…or the Croatian equivalent” is Guy’s offer. (mačka na naljut limenka krov, I’m led to believe). On the other bench, Guus Hiddink is seen manipulating his fingers in a Ted Rogers’ homage.

On the half hour, Tim Cahill races between defenders but pushes his header straight at Stipe Pletikosa. Within 30 seconds, Harry Kewell brings a diving save from the keeper with a rasping drive. Australia knowing they need to score are pressing harder now, running at the defenders and trying their luck from distance whilst Viduka niggles away inside the box. Not long after, Stjepan Tomas leaps over Tim Cahill in the box with his fist flailing high above his head. The ball brushes off the back of his hand and the penalty is awarded. Craig Moore, spotting Pletikosa making an early move to his left, plumbs it straight down the middle. As the euphoria dies down, Guy dusts off the crib sheet he nicked out the pocket of Motty’s sheepy; apparently Scott Chipperfield, “when he was playing semi-professionally in Australia, supplemented his income by driving a bus.” You live, you learn.

Five minutes before half-time and Australia see a chilling vision of things to come, the colossal Kalac dropping an easy catch under no pressure and there is a slight panic as he and the defenders tried to shepherd it away from the goal-line. We go into half-time with the scores level and, it turns out, we will get our own BBC3 family away from Leonardo banging on about Brazil. Manish ‘yeah, I’m still ‘ere’ Bhasin has been annexed to the Berlin studio balcony with Adrian Chiles, in ‘expert’ rather than anchor mode (by virtue of his mum being Croatian). Lee Dixon takes the Aussie perspective, “we’ll call you Bruce” today says Manish. “The key incident [was when] Mark Viduka was rugby tackled, and no penalty. Excellent decision by Graham Poll” quips Adrian. The three of them, feeling a little brushed aside and wishing they’d remembered to bring a jacket out with them, do make the best of the fact that they have no replay clips to punctuate their slightly embarrassed banter.

In full partisan mode, Chiles remains upbeat, “if one things give me hope, it’s Kalac, he’s fluffing everything, I’m not sure he’s not Serbian actually” he says, in what is either a point of order, or a racial slur. There are then brief highlights of Brazil’s game, showing Ronaldo’s right-on-half-time equaliser. “I tipped him to be the top scorer, but he’s got some catching up to do” says Lee, buck-bucking like a rooster. Who cares about Brazil though, this game, particularly due to the finely balanced goal difference, is excellent ebbing and flowing stuff, like a Going for Gold end game. One for you 80’s telly quiz fans there.

Croatia, as you might expect, start the second half the stronger, going close with a couple of long-range shots. Srna wins a free kick and tries to get his assailant booked by waving a card-mime hand. “I think you should be booked yourself if you do that” says Guy, with a retired colonel humph. On 56 minutes, Nico Kovac tries a shot from just outside the box, obviously heeding Adrian Chiles suggestion that Croatia should test Kalac at every opportunity. It should be meat and drink to him, but he spills it over his own felled tree-trunk of a body and it trickles into the net. Hiddink is captured, face like thunder. In the back of my head, I hear Henry Kelly whispering politely “Now. Australia. You’re playing catch up.”

There is a shot of Schwarzer, “what’s he thinking?” asks Gavin Peacock. “How he must wish he was between those posts, how Australia must wish…” says Guy, catching the scent of blood. “The goalkeeper who’s nickname is the spider…you’d want to wash him down the sink,” he adds, with a homicidal zeal. On comes Marco Bresciano as sub, “Italian father, Croatian mother, he’s on to ruin mum’s night.” As we know, the only motivation a player needs in the World Cup is to engineer an argument earlier in the day about the cleanliness of his bedroom.

After 70 minutes, the ball drops to Kewell who belts from point blank range, only for a reflex save from Pletikosa. A minute later there is a bundle on the Croatian line. Pletikosa leaps on top of the ball but this doesn’t stop Mark Viduka trying to drag it in with the keeper still attached, but to no avail. Scott Kennedy comes on, all 6’5” of him, to add more height to the attack. With his first motion, he is about to meet a free kick at the far post, but once again, Tomas’ fist is pointing skywards and gets a heavier touch than for the first half penalty, but this time he gets away with it. “Australia say that a hand was used” spots Guy. “Just the one” says Gavin, promoting an intriguing rule change. Not long after, the ball is again launched into the box by Bresciano, gets a flick off Aloisi’s head, and at the back post Kewell flicks it up with his left boot, and places it home with his right. 2-2.

With Australia back in pole position, and Croatia now chasers of the game, it is in the last ten minutes that the games descends into the most bonkers farce of the tournament thus far. Dario Simic earns a second yellow, but as he attempts to reach for the red, Darijo Srna grabs Graham Poll’s arm to try and prevent the inevitable. The ref’s eyelids disappear as he snorts like a wound-up toreo bull. Srna escapes punishment, but it is clear Poll will not be a man you should cross for the remainder of the game. As if to prove it, he dismisses Brett Emerton for a second yellow handball offence moments later.

Australia are already dropping back looking to protect their lead but are living dangerously, a goal-line clearance required in the 86th. Poll then books Josip Simunic. Mowbray is adamant that Simunic has been booked already, but Poll neglects to show the red card. “I’m certain, I’m certain” gasps Guy, as though he’s at the climax of a particularly tense pub-quiz, and there’s a tankard full of pound coins riding on his ability to name Lieutenant Pigeon’s follow-up single to ‘Mouldy Old Dough.’

“Black mark for the English referee. If Croatia were to score now, it’d be one of the greatest controversies the World cup has seen.” Poll is having a real ‘mare, blowing the final whistle, Clive Thomas style it appears, as Mark Viduka is about to unleash a shot that, indeed, ends up in the back of the net. With Australia through regardless, Viduka seems unperturbed, embracing the ref in such a wide-armed way as to suggest he is honkin’ badly. Certainly Poll’s shirt retains moisture even more dramatically than Otto Pfister’s little pink number. Simunic, not knowing when he’s on to a good thing, berates Poll, earning himself his third yellow card and, finally, a red. With everyone going down the tunnel now anyway, though, he decides simply to lay down on the pitch.

Back on the suicide ledge, Chiles is making the best of it, “I was feeling desperate but the refereeing farce has livened us up.” Lee Dixon adds, caustically, “it’s absolutely ludicrous, but that’s Graham Poll I suppose.” It looks as though Adrian will cope, “I’m used to being on the telly when my team lose” says the put upon Baggie. Still, despite all the mayhem and suggestions of offside for Harry Kewell’s goal (“the game should be declared null and void” says a grumpy Chiles during the later BBC1 highlights programme), what a tremendous game. After covering the disappointing Holland/Argentina game last night, I was delighted to be on shift again tonight for this one, which certainly lived up to its billing as, essentially, a play-off for second spot.

Just prior to the start of the second half, Guy Mowbray had re-iterated the cliché about Graham Poll being the only Englishman who didn’t want England to win the World Cup. Think he can probably get behind his country’s national side now. As Alan Shearer put it later on the highlights, “What have Croatia and Graham Poll got in common? Neither are going into the last sixteen.”

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: and it was all "yellow"

Referee (Graham Poll, England): Keystone Kop.

These things I believe: Is Mark Viduka getting chunkier by the hour? – It’s a daft reflex thing (Baddiel & Skinner podcast listeners will be familiar with the concept of football tourettes), but whenever I hear Vince Grella referred to by his surname, I expect to look up and see him picking bits of grass out of his team-mates body hair or beating his chest -- Did Dado Prso’s parents set up his swing too near the garden wall? -- Bauhaus were wrong, Bela Lugosi isn’t dead, he’s waving them in between the Australian sticks -- Graham Poll: home before the Togo?

USA vs. Ghana, ESPN

2006-06-23T00:48:00.000+01:00

Pre-pregame coverage begins with a gentle tongue-bath for Kasey Keller-- a whole slow-mo minifeature, accompanied by acoustic guitars, featuring Keller in various tragic USA kit. The line “A career most players would be more than satisfied with…but Keller’s dream hasn’t yet come true” is accompanied by still, black-and-white shots of Kasey peering forlornly through his goal netting, imprisoned in his own private tragedy: male pattern baldness.

Oddly enough, the spot, in its earnest attempt to establish an underdog, is actually fairly honest about the three main aspects of Kasey: undeniably great, inconsistent and fading. I'm taken aback by this moment of realism on ESPN's part, but not for long.

...I’m watching this on tape, and just stopped it to report on the Keller thing. In doing so I caught Reese Davis’ assessment of Brazil vs. Japan:

“I’ve observed it very carefully: Ronaldo is phat. With a p-h!”

Can you beat that, morning studio team? Can you? Well, maybe, because I think you're the same people: Davis, plus Julie Foudy and Eric Wynalda. They weigh in after a brief, inexplicable Bruce Arena montage: Foudy claims the USA have the depth to compensate for the red cards; Wynalda is worse at disguising his obvious despair, finally telling us that if the USA can somehow get out from under their idiotic 4-5-1, they might be able to pull something out of this match.

More baseball.

We return to find Dave O’Brien summarizing the most recent matches (“Honk if you love Group D!”) and and then seguing back into baseball. I am fascinated by O’Brien’s accent- he lays his nationality aggressively over any name he encounters which is not of Anglophone origin, and I suspect he does this on purpose. He's the man who puts the "Ronald" in "Ronaldinho."

Your commentating team today will be O’Brien and Marcelo Balboa. Marcelo is working his usual magic on the composition of a shot: he stares out at you uncomfortably, somehow holding your eye contact and making it difficult to glance away at the pleasant, generic O'Brien, who is lurking in the lower left-hand corner. You see, Dave symbolizes American optimism for this match: well-spoken and influentially placed, but viscerally outpowered by the biker-bearded gloom of reali-

Foudy and Wynalda are playing foosball.

A moment for nationalism: Dave tells us that before the game, Arena gathered the team and they all looked at photos of a Marine unit in Iraq; when it's anthem time, the mics pick up vast roars of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” while the Ghanaian anthem remains mysteriously instrumental.

Bruce sits and frets.

The game coverage itself isn’t actually that bad. Dave (a baseball commentator, primarily, by profession) has settled into an inoffensively vacuous persona, his only flaw a sudden mastery of the art of patronizing Africans; Marcelo, after years of practice, is finally getting the hang of this talking thing. There is some dithering (“That’s not a foul…that’s a fou-if you want to call that a foul, fine!”) but when your competition is Tommy Smyth, you can get away with that kind of crap.

Halftime. The pundits summarize the Italy/Czechs game. Julie and Eric, concerned that they aren't offending enough people, briefly employ Super Mario accents.

Ghana look like a letdown after their performance against the Czechs, Dave says. Set pieces are a weakness for Ghana, Dave says. A Ghanaian defender disposessing an American is “a swing and a miss,” Dave says. Dave lies!

A tragedy (avoidable, but not today) ensues and we’re back to the pundits. Julie and Eric seem almost relieved to be able to admit what went wrong; they rightly and intelligently criticize the U.S. offense, in a move guaranteed to infuriate me, as I am late and exhausted and desperately seeking cheap material. Reese jumps in with an oddly telling Americanism, remarking that “We cannot undersell the importance of this to the people of Ghana.”

Pundits: Eric and Marcelo want the head of Bruce Arena. Julie blames both the formation and the players, but stops short of decapitation requests. Tommy Smyth pronounces “Ghanaians” two different ways in one sentence.

More pundits: Allen Hopkins and Janusz Michallik dance a deadly tango. Allen: Bruce doesn’t have any better offers. Janusz: the USA doesn’t have any better coaches.

Tommy getting dangerously wacky now; Bruce has been brought out…and…yes, that’s the point of diminishing returns. This has been your coverage of ESPN’s coverage of USA’s exit from the 2006 World Cup. And...

What we've learned: Tommy Smyth looks nothing like you'd think. ...Well, seriously-- Ghana are pretty damn devastating; the USA are overrated, scattered, poorly managed and choke-prone. We were aware. If Bruce had made some different decisions earlier in the tournament, this group might not have ended this way, but he didn't, and it did.

Ivory Coast v Serbia & Montenegro, BBC 5 Live Sports Extra

2006-06-22T16:51:00.000+01:00

"So what if it's a dead rubber? For the football aficionados among you, you'll know this could be a cracker." Strange games, these, where everyone knows nothing rests on them but the duty is to cover them anyway. We don't even catch the name of the presenter who has to introduce an audio compilation of Didier Drogba clips after telling us he's suspended tonight. Your team is Alistair Bruce-Ball, Chris Waddle and to kick off David Oates, who reminds us "there's nothing on this game, but in a funny kind of way it could be more interesting". After a preview of the 5 Live game, when surely everyone who wanted to hear that match is already listening to the station as us over here have made the conscious decision to take this game in instead, we find Oates also going on about the weather, although "after 12 dry, warm and mainly sunny days we can hardly complain". "There are plenty of people here, if not from the Ivory Coast, then certainly supporting the Ivory Coast, and I've just noticed the rain is absolutely bucketing down" is a classy non-sequitur, as if the two were somehow related. Oates then gets in his information on possibly the final ever play of the Serbia & Montenegro anthem: "their anthem is called Hey Slavs, it was written in 1844 by a Slovak priest". You wouldn't imagine that sort of thing would go down well in the post-Yugoslavia era.

It's evident that the commentary team are taking this as languidly as we listeners are, wondering if S&M will "play Peter Crouch style" and at one point referring to "one of their balding players". Nice to have the extra perception of the action, but we could have lived without that. Luckily there's an early goal to settle us all in - "goalkeeper's lost his bearings - it's a walk-in! What were the Ivory Coast defenders doing there, and what was the goalkeeper doing there?" The action continues apace, even when it shouldn't, Oates going ballistic with a "how did that miss?" at one point before noticing "linesman has flagged for offside, in fact..." Waddle spots on the monitor, we're led to assume, "a shot of Henri Michel just close his eyes and shake his head". Indeed it seems all up for the Ivory Coast when "the defence was all at sea again, and Sasa Ilic has made them pay again". Just good to hear that name out of presumed context, of course. "They're a shambles at the back" is Oates' immediate diagnosis.

I'm not the first to point this out, but Chris Waddle can only refer to spot kicks as a "pelanty", and Ivory Coast getting one seems to be the catalyst for the rest of the game to be littered with such awards and claims, so fun for all ahead. "If it goes through his hands you've got to say well done" is his curious perception of the award. Dindane, a name right out of a list read by Danny Kelly, scores but there's encroachment, a decision which Alistair nearly dismisses because it's the same referee as in England's first game. Luckily the second attempt is also scored, and "this time it counts", and apparently "the neutrals will start swaying now". Towards the Ivorians, presumably, not just swaying for the fun of it. Dindane then gets booked for diving, Alistair having found his theme and ready to stick to it. "A fair few contentious decisions being made" he declares, only seconds later to state "our Mexican referee has got that spot on". Casually winding down at last towards the end of the half he almost doesn't notice his next decision, spurred suddenly into action by "...oh, and Nadj is being sent off". Waddle finally gets to pronounce "he's got one right, he's got one wrong". Oddly, Bruce-Ball begins his half time wrap-up "and here is the story of the game...", which isn't something you get from most commentators.

Our man in London declares this "an absolutely stonking match", predicting "I doubt it'll be the same score at full time" like an unwise man. "We'll be back with more...in a sec" he then tells us in a very un-BBC way. The rest of half time is spent talking about England in any case, the mantra for the coverage being "5 Live is the only station with a presence in the English team hotel". That's good.

"Both teams and the referee are all unpredictable" Chris, in no way picking at a nit, sums up what we have to look forward to, Oates joining in after the team rundown with a hearty "the referee is from Mexico, and he's not very good, to be honest". "With this fella you can lose track of the yellow cards, can't you?" he will shortly ponder, to which Chris, perhaps expecting something less, agrees "I don't think it was a foul...er, sorry, it was a foul". What Chris sees as "like a practice match, on the training ground" actually sounds quite entertaining, especially when the Ivory Coast hit back: "That's a good ball in - oh, and it's in from Dindane!" Chris, like a dad should do, sees "they're having a little celebration, obviously a rehearsed one if they did score". Not that the referee, who Waddle reckons looks like Ray Reardon, is going to be left out of play for too long, giving another penalty/pelanty which forces Oates to admit "I can't say I saw which defender it was who gave away the handball..." There's plenty of pre-take shenanigans, Oates waspishly remarking "the referee now looks like he's going to play in goal", before Kalou nets and "they do the team dance", something not elaborated on. The conceding defender turns out to be the same man as before, in which case he apparently "should hang his head in shame".

As "a crazy, crazy dead rubber" comes to a close Bruce-Ball gets to see a second late in the half red card, by which he seems unsurprised as "it's been a crazy game and a few crazy decisions from the referee" before getting completely flummoxed by the concept of the end of the game. Curiously, the presenter's immediate tack is to ask Waddle "how do you compare Cameroon to this Ivory Coast side?", like it matters, before winding up with "if that's a dead rubber, bring the rest on, frankly". He'll get some practice.

What we've learned: the Ivory Coast might well have qualified from another group (first team to win a finals game after being two down since England-West Germany 1970, apparently); Marco Rodriguez will probably get the final after all that; even in these circumstances 'other' group ending games with nothing riding on them are curious, cold places.

Quote of the day yesterday

2006-06-22T13:06:00.000+01:00

"You're a good looking fellow and you can speak five languages. You're going to need them here." - Martin O'Neil begins his hijacking of last night's highlights by introducing himself to Leonardo, shortly before steering discussion of Portugal v Mexico to a tale about Vitor Baia wasting 4 and a half minutes in the UEFA Cup final. He could have been the next England manager, you know.

Costa Rica v Poland, ITV2

2006-06-22T12:56:00.000+01:00

(With apologies for the delay)

Matt Smith is back in the ITV Highlights studio alongside Alan Curbishley and Jay-Jay Okocha ("resplendent in a canary yellow shirt"). Plenty of references to pride being at stake today, as we see images of Polish and Costa Rican fans determined to a) have a good time, and b) get themselves a TV close-up - Matt notes in particular one woman wearing ridiculous Elton John-style novelty glasses.

Over to Ned Boulting at the fan park in Cologne with an oversized microphone that wouldn't have looked out of place in Blankety Blank. A German fan points at the three stars on his replica shirt, at which point I did half-expect Ned to burst into "two World Wars and one World Cup, doo dah", but luckily he showed some restraint. Oh dear, he's now found some English fans on a stag do wearing Rudi Voeller-esque mullet wigs. "Are England going to win tonight?" he asks the groom. "Totally, of course!" is the rather bleary response. "That is what I call punditry!" Thanks for that, Ned.

ITV's fourth-choice commentary duo finally get their live debut as Peter Brackley and Clive Allen welcome us to Hanover to see "two teams who'll be checking out of their respective heartbreak hotels in the very near future," apparently. Stereotypical Teutonic efficiency is for once overlooked as we kick off 15 seconds ahead of the other game.

It seems that Brackley and Allen are in a party mood, knowing that this is practically their only chance to broadcast to a live audience (albeit an audience of a few thousand Polish and Costa Rican ex-pats). "They have just about the most unpronounceable names in the whole tournament, the Poles!" announces Brackley. "I'll be checking you later on, Clive, on one or two of those!" "I was gonna say, easy for you to say Peter!" "He's written nothing down..." But you didn't ask Clive to write anything down, Peter...

"What about Paolo Wanchope?" suggests Brackley to his co-commentator, as the Costa Rican feebly tests Artur Boruc with the first attempted shot of the match. "He says he wants to play in the Premiership again, might Tottenham be interested?" "He's had his time in England, perhaps somewhere else on the continent will be his next port-of-call..." "I'll take that as a 'no', then? Tottenham haven't signed a new player now since, ooh - what time is it?" "A few minutes ago! Not telling you who it is though!"

"Is that good for England, Peter?" asks Clive as news of Germany's opening goal filters through. He clearly doesn't understand that the co-commentator is meant to express opinion, not enquire it. Meanwhile, Costa Rica win a free kick at least 40 yards out, but that doesn't stop Ronald Gomez from taking about 30 steps back and blasting the ball past the rather ineffective wall and sneaking a corner. "It was a fast bowler's run up!" chuckles Brackley. "They call him the bullet, cos he's always getting fired from clubs!"

First reference to Costa Rica's leading club side Deportivo Saprissa playing Liverpool in last year's Club World Championship: a surprising 9 minutes in. Good job Ladbrokes didn't offer odds, else I'd have lost a small fortune.

Someone has clearly told Brackley that the Costa Rican team is nicknamed "The Ticos", as he manages to sneak the reference in no less than 3 times in the opening ten minutes.

"Morale will be low of course, now that the bitter reality of those first two matches has sunk in for these teams. But they will have their pride, and you never know - with the pressure off they might just provide us with an entertaining finale!" Who are you trying to convince, Peter? Anyone who's persevered with this match until now is clearly prepared to stick it out until the end regardless of whether it's a 0-0 bore draw. Which at the moment it is, with the Polish fans in particular beginning to whistle the negative defensive play.

Peter defends a rather nasty slide tackle from behind by Arkadiusz Radomski on Mauricio Solis by suggesting that "at least it shows commitment for what is ostensibly a dead rubber!" Soon after, Poland win a corner and Jose Porras in the Costa Rican goal comes a long way out of his area only to get a rather unconvincing punch on the ball. Fortunately, on this occasion he's bailed out by his defenders.

Wanchope attempts a one-two, only for the returned pass to be misplaced towards the Polish defender Marcin Baszczynski. Unfortunately for the latter, his attempted clearance ends up being an air shot, and it's only Wanchope's surprise that allows the defender to get back into position and put the ball out of play at the second attempt.

The amusingly-pronounced Jacek Bak fouls Wanchope on the edge of the area, allowing the amusingly-nicknamed Gomez to have another go. "Does he go up and over the wall, or does go power straight the way through?" wonders Clive, clearly not remembering the 40-yard blast in the opening 10 minutes. "He's gonna blast it!" spots Brackley, as the Costa Ricans in the wall move out of the way and the ball nutmegs a shocked Boruc. "Ooh, and it's in!" "Pure power, Peter!" "We have a goal! See, I told you it'd be good!"

Michal Zewlakow picks up the fourth yellow card of the game so far for kneeing Bolanos up the jacksie. "No-one's told him it's a dead rubber!" says Brackley. Is this going to be a recurring excuse for bad tackles?

Costa Rica are all over Poland, and with half an hour gone Gomez tries the fancy flick-forwards-using-the-heel-of-the-opposite-foot that doesn't seem to have a name but can best be described as 'the thing that David Dunn tried to do when he fell on his arse'. "Hehe, different!" chuckles Brackley as the pass completely bamboozles a stunned Polish defence and reaches Wanchope on the right wing, only for the resulting cross to seemingly nutmeg Gomez who'd run into the area and the ball is cleared. Clive is transfixed: "Peter, 'different'? It could have been absolutely fantastic. Gomez's - what would you call it? - reverse pass out to the right..." "'That's my job, I do the tricks!'" suggests Brackley of Wanchope.

Another Polish corner, and another rush of blood from the keeper, this time with more severe consequences. "Oh, the keeper lost it - lost it completely!" exclaims Brackley as Bartosz Bosacki accepts the gift. "But I think it's been ruled out has it, no it has been given!"
"Baszczynski, the man with 5 zeds in his surname...Clive's now counting them!" [Clive goes quiet for the next 30 seconds, failing to pass comment on a chance for Poland that Jervis Drummond almost toe-pokes past his own keeper] "I make it two!" announces Clive triumphantly. "What - the 'Z's? You have been counting them? Watch the game! It was only a joke!" "I can't spell, though..."

Peter plugs the website ("Not now Clive, do it later!"), and then informs us of Germany's second goal as we see the group table as it stands. "Surely now nothing is going to stop them from taking Pole position - excuse the pun!"

Gomez blasts another shot having received the ball from a free kick, only for a Polish player to get his head in the way of the ball. "I tell you what, that was travelling!" "I think it hit Zewlakow as it comes through..." "Has he no sense of feeling, that man? Nearly took his head off!" Bizarrely, the massive deflection is missed by the referee, who gives a goal kick.

"He needed to get closer to Klose!" suggests Matt as we watch first-half Germany v Ecuador highlights, becoming only the fifty-seventh British presenter to do so. "You've put your Ecuador shirt on, should have put your Germany shirt on!" accuses Matt of yellow-clad Jay-Jay. "You've picked the wrong team today son, backed the wrong horse!" "I'm neutral..." protests a bemused Okocha. "Yesterday he was an England fan, today he's an Ecuador fan, I dunno what he's gonna do tomorrow, boys and girls!"

In the second half, Brackley reminds us of Poland's warm-up game against Columbia where "they were booed off by their own fans and the same supporters were cheering the opposition!" "It's only England that get all this stick and unrest from supporters and press!" suggests Clive. "It's not me - it's you pundits!" protests Peter.

"Almost came over to keep Paolo Wanchope company," is Brackley's sole assessment of Mauricio Solis' brief spell at Derby.

First mention of Costa Rica beating Scotland at Italy 1990: Not until the 53rd minute. It's a really good job Ladbrokes etc etc...

"Baszczynski, who has so many letters in his name that you can hardly get them on the shirt!" chuckles Peter (let's hope he never sees Jan Vennegoor of Hesselink's shirt). "But two 'Z's!" reminds Clive proudly.

Gonzalez blasts a shot over with his weaker right foot. "I always remember you being two-footed," Peter says to Clive. "Sometimes I thought you had three feet!" Clive opts not to reply. "He's not going to respond now, he's gone into a sulk!"

Poland win a corner after Smolarek's attempted cross is blocked by Gonzalez, who kept his arms behind his back in the process to avoid conceding a penalty. "I'm not sure I'd put my hands there, would you?" asks Peter - with good comic timing, as we see Gabriel Badilla almost molesting Smolarek in the six-yard box as they await the corner.

Porras is beginning to redeem his first-half errors with some impressive saves, including a long-range shot from Krzynowek that squeezed past several defenders that he barely saw. Sadly, he allows Bosacki to head the ball past his near post from the resulting corner, and Poland lead. Clive criticises Paolo Wanchope's lack of marking, and points out that "there was only one winner - Baszczynski!" "Or even Bosacki," corrects Peter, "but I know what you mean!" "Sorry, Mr Bosacki!" "I'll give him your phone number!"

"Zewlakow...I think I put a 'ski' on his name in the first half, but I think I got away with it Clive!". Baszczynski takes a throw right in front of the camera. "There you are - all those 'Z's, look!" points out Peter. "Two!" "It's not as bad as it looks actually, do it phonetically. If he does score, you'll never get his name on the caption!"
"I think if West Ham had followed up their interest in [Baszczynski], he would have been 'Bazza'!" chuckles Brackley. "I'm sure the East End faithful would have found some nickname for him," agrees Allen.

Gomez is substituted late on (not before one last free kick is blasted wide), and rather than making a bee-line for the fourth official, he dejectedly steps over the far touchline and wanders around the edge of the pitch, much to Peter and Clive's amusement. "I would not like to be the man who tells him he's going off! You go and have a word with him!" At the same time, Wanchope puts the ball in the net but is flagged offside.

"Costa Rica take the wooden spoon, as it were..." announces Matt as the match fizzles out. The pundits show more interest in the Germany game than this, making you wonder which match they actually watched. Curbishley picks his top 10 goals of the tournament so far (Cambiasso, surprisingly) and we end as we began with a look ahead to England-Sweden. "Be there!" demands Matt. What if we'd rather watch Trinidad-Paraguay?

What we've learned: Gomez's powerblasts and Baszczynski's surname could make them cult figures at an English league club; Peter Brackley seems to have been sponsored to say "dead rubber" as often as possible; and it's not a good idea to eat a just-past-the-sell-by-date chicken burger when you're supposed to be writing three match reports in 24 hours.

Holland v Argentina, ITV1

2006-06-22T08:37:00.000+01:00

Since before the tournament, it is Group C that he caused the most feverish neutral excitement. Many were hoping that Serbia & Montenegro and Cote d’Ivoire would live up to their dark horse billing, but most will have expected this coming together to be group decider and so it has come to pass, with the Ivorians fairly unlucky and the Serbs pretty hapless in their attempts to come between these titans. The suggestion has been that this game could be, like their tussle eight years ago, one of the matches of the tournament. Certainly ITV has been hyping it in this way, laying down ads like trump cards.

Plenty to be excited about then, but ITV can ruin any occasion, of course. They have been to this World Cup what a Labrador drilling a stream of urine cake-wards is to a 6 year olds birthday party. Tonight, once more, it’s that man Pleat in the seat, always a threat to anyone’s candles. Still, there is indeed the game, “a classic encounter” says Steve Rider by way of an opener, and I hope he’s right.

Needless to say, mention has to be made of England, and Steve subtly squeezes one in by suggesting this group is like Englands. Argentina need only a point, while if Holland win they would top the group. All set up nicely, and the VT shows the ’78 final and Bergkamp’s ’98 classic. Out of that, Steve asks Ruud Gullit as to the nature of the Holland/Argentina rivalry? “One of respect” says Ruud, disappointing our host, his collection of hoolie-lit stashed behind his chair.

Sam Allardyce then waxes lyrical about Lionel Messi, his mind clearly ticking about how many lies he could possibly tell the young Argentinean about sunny Bolton. Steve then looks nervous attempting to pronounce ‘Dirk Kuyt’ in front of Ruud Gullit. “We’d all better learn how to say his name” says Steve, suggesting Ruud may also be struggling with the intricacies of Dutch phonetics.

“Mixed emotion in Cologne” is the ominous link as we return, and that is followed by those words that fill us all with dread, no not “Michael Owen’s World Cup is over,” I mean “Gabriel Clarke.” The wizened gnome, usually found lurking in League One car-parks, has been reporting from the England camp as though he’s stood outside a Crown Court. Gabriel is, I think, solely responsible for introducing the tide of solemnity into the England party. He speaks to a few and they all look pretty miserable and unwilling to elaborate. He asks Rio Ferdinand, “can we win the world cup without Michael Owen?” Rio, iPod ear-piece dangling: “yes.” Revealing!

As soon as you hear Steve Rider utter the word “fans”, you know what’s coming and, indeed, it’s off to Nedley, outside with some boisterous fans from either side. An Argentinean fan covered in appropriate shades of body paint shouts “Look out Germany” into the mike, as though he’s into a Robin Williams stand-up routine. The Dutch fans try to compete for volume. As he hands back, stuffy Steve says “respect between the fans, if not a great deal of dignity.” He can expect better behaviour from Ruud who is also, once again, decked out in his lucky orange shirt. “I hope we’re going to see a good day” whispers Ruud, repressing the urge to let off an air horn and belch violently.

Steve, clearing a large frog from his throat, links us through to Peter Drury who says “memories are made of this,” over a picture of the teams stood stock still in the tunnel. Aye, that will stay with me. Out in the stands we see Maradona, Argentina’s Delia Smith, this time molesting Michel Platini. During the anthems, Marco Van Basten is caught looking as though he’s just that second been impaled with a harpoon, and daren’t look down to survey the damage. “It’s a clash between two of thee football nations” says Drury before making one of his more shocking suggestions: “Enjoy David Pleat.” There may have been some punctuation in there. You’d hope.

The tempo is fairly decent but I don’t catch much of it as I am forced to look away quickly each time Carlos Tevez on the screen. “Barrel-chested, big necked, big muscles” is Drury’s description, failing to add “recently glassed” or, indeed, “barrel-faced.” I am given some relief as Holland begin to attack, Van Persie brushing the ball arrogantly down the right with his studs, eventually winning a corner and as he prepares to take it, performs some necessary adjustments to what Drury describes, with a hint of arousal, as his “undershorts.”

Holland also have the first clear chance of the night, after 17 minutes, Nicolas Burdisso getting caught in possession by Dirk Kuyt in the corner, who then dribbles into the box and unsuccessfully tries to beat Roberto Abbondanzieri at the near post despite the presence of Van Nistelrooy in the centre. Up the other end Tevez causes all sorts of trouble at the touchline, robbing defenders and eventually winning a corner, “little bull of a striker” says Drury, getting closer to the Phantom of the Opera truth.

Argentina’s best chance of the half sees a Riquelme free-kick slice through the box, deflecting off Khalid Boulahrouz onto the post. A minute later Maxi Rodriguez sends a fizzer just past a fully stretched Van Der Sar’s far right hand post, “Maxi danger” says Pleat, like a timid wrestling MC. We cut to a shot of the intense Van Basten letting his guard down a little, inspecting the little finger he has just demobbed from an inner ear investigation.

For the remainder of the half, the sides kind of neutralise each other, only a shot from Messi causing anything close to mild worry in either camp. Fearing a mass switch-off, Drury suggests the potential, “it is a major game that is on the simmer for now, but these are the sort of players who can bring it to the boil in the second half.”

After all my talk of ITV being a deliverer of birthday ruining piss, its not been a bad first half show, Drury okay and Pleat not saying much. Hazzah. In a further slap to my cynicism, they actually spend most of the interval discussing the game at hand. Thankfully order is restored early in the second half, Drury informing us once again about Michael Owen’s injury, before dictating an open letter. “and if you’re sitting, rather dolefully, in your lounge at home watching this [Michael], commiserations to you. I hope you’re living off the memory of, amongst other things, that wonderful goal you once scored against Argentina, 8 years ago”. What kind of damage can a crutch do to a brand new plasma screen, do you think?

The game doesn’t do anything to allow this nadir to be overcome either, although there are flashes; Riquelme skidding one just past the far post; Rafael Van Der Vart doggedly winning the ball in the area, the ball spinning to Phillip Cocu who forces Abbondanzieri into a near post save; Tevez firing a real stinger for Van Der Sar to keep out; and a Van Der Vart free-kick zooming past the near post. When we cut again to the bench, there is yet another shot of Marco Van Basten in that thousand-yard stare mode, which suggests his long break from football may have been due to him serving jail time for murder. To quote the comic Tony Law; “once you’ve killed you’re fourth homeless guy, it all gets a bit too easy, doesn’t it?” Any thoughts, Marco?

Despite the disappointing game, Stuart Pearce is undiminished in his love for the Argentineans, “I’ll stick my neck out, I think they’re nailed on to win the World Cup” he says, before Steve says goodnight with his final thought “Hasn’t actually been a feast tonight, but an hors d’oeuvres, that reminds us that Argentina will be pretty tasty through this tournament” which it appears he would have said even if they’d been tonked for 8.

As is always the case with these hyped things, the game, although it has its moments, cannot live up to the weight of expectation, which isn’t really its fault. In that respect, perhaps there is a similarity with England after all.

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: evocative

Referee (Luis Medina Cantalejo, Spain): "But how do you and your neighbour get on about the disputed right of way?" said Mr. Jarndyce. "You are not free from the toils of the law yourself!"

These things I believe: I imagine there’s not a brisk trade in wall posters of Carlos Tevez -- Re: Esteban Cambiasso. Was ex-Reading gaffer Jimmy Quinn anywhere near South America during the latter months of 1979? -- Argentina still look pretty hot stuff, but neutralizable, so we needn’t all pack up and go home after all. -- Forgot Ruud Van Nistelrooy was playing until his substitution. -- Fabricio Coloccini. Now at Deportivo la Coruna after a stint on the road with Styx.

England v Sweden, BBC Radio 5 Live

2006-06-21T21:17:00.000+01:00

Listening to England games on 5 Live is something of a trial. Two words: Alan Green. But also because there's a sheer defeatism to their commentaries, no matter the seriousness of the game, we've always found. Ah well, into the breach, ignoring much of the build-up largely because it was some stuff about Noel Gallagher and Mark Clemmitt with the fans somewhere up north. Mark Pougatch has been our guide, suggesting to Graham Taylor and co-commentator Terry Butcher that "England are a bit constipated at the moment" and wondering "is it too much to play with a smile on your face in the World Cup?" What exactly does that mean? Butcher compares the Sven approach to that of the Swedes, as apparently "they're not forcing DVDs into their pockets". That can't be legal. Taylor is called upon for comment on "Olly" (Mellberg), adjudging him "a quiet man" who "has his own point of view", particularly remembering the question "why do I have to go out and, say, get tipsy?" when assigned on a team bonding night.

Mike Ingham's first up, starting with all sorts of historical reminders, not least that it's the same referee who did Northern Ireland-England. To his credit he spots Owen collapsing and crawling off very early on, Butcher delivering a helpful "ooh, terrible" upon seeing the replay but immediately diagnosing it as the medial ligament. It takes Butcher less than two minutes to mention Defoe as the stretcher arrives and only a couple more to put a word in for Walcott - "why think of the future when you've only got five games left?" That confident, is he? Taylor is called upon for occasional comment, Ingham claiming he'd "deliberately looked at Owen Hargreaves". Taylor sees him "looking round him all of the time, he's taking pictures, as they say in the game". What game that is is never specified. After 21 minutes Terry is quietly positive despite the news that Owen is apparently having "ice treatment" on his knee - so standard procedure for knee injuries, then. Ingham is so keen to give us this he doesn't notice until late that the free kick on the edge of the England area didn't go England's way. Luckily for him "in goes the ball, it's dreadful". "A quick word from Terry Butcher on a twisted knee and then it's Alan Green." Ah.

"I know the temptation is to say you can't legislate for an Owen injury, but Eriksson could have done and should have done. Those chickens are coming home to roost for Eriksson. Oh, and we have to say Sweden have been the better side." And hello to you too, Alan. All his hopes, as with everyone else, are with one player, as he gives away announcing "inspirational from Rooney" as he nearly gets a chance. "Ashley Cole almost tripped there! Gosh, that was nervous." He's got edgy, you can tell, especially when Sweden get a free kick from which "Paul Robinson will be put under pressure...not the greatest pressure". Luckily then "Joe Cole, dipping volley...oh, it's into the net!" It briefly sounds like his larynx is going to give way, but he recovers enough to chide Butcher for predicting a 1-0 England win with a Cole goal. "No, no, no, I don't want you to say any more, put the microphone down... when you apologise for getting it wrong four years ago I'll let you take the credit". No explanation of that one, although he does find time to drop in a reference to those "listening on SBS radio in Australia and All India Radio, er, which is, oddly enough, in India". There's a lot of jibing around the last win over Sweden in 1968, Alan unconvincingly claiming "I was two years old!" before referring to Terry calling a striker of the day 'Geoff Hunt'. At least Terry remembers 2002 when "England were 1-0 up in that game...", only for Alan to interrupt with "I've mentioned this!" At least the lead holds up to half time when Green asks Butcher about scoreline likeliness and gets a slightly confused, and not unreasonably so, "what, Sweden 0 England 1?" Well, yes. "Graham, a little bit of Joga Bonita!" Thank you, Mark, cheque's in the post. Worryingly, Anita Anand gets to plug her later phone-in, "what smell reminds you of Sven and his players?" Us neither.

"Corner kick to Sweden, AND IT'S THERE!" Well, that was coming. It was, after all, the second half of an England game. As Ingham shouts Terry is insistent on pointing out Green told him the ball was outside the corner quadrant at the time. "Here's a man who knows all about Marcus Allback!" is the new official introduction to Taylor, who reckons he was signed for Villa as "on a wet and windy afternoon in November and December he would keep working". That's specialising. "Sweden look like a Premiership side, not an international side" is his verdict. Ingham just can't rest, not when "Larsson flicks it on, and it's off the crossbar... (long pause) and it's perilously, perilously close". What he was waiting for wasn't immediately obvious. Ingham is by now panicking at every corner ("Campbell didn't get it...") while Taylor offers the helpful "I'm sure that everyone at home's enjoying the game, but we've got to win the game". Alan, meanwhile, has a note about Ferdinand's substitution: "According to the FA, Ferdinand's substitution was tactical. Oh, it wasn't tactical." Well prepared.

With Rooney off Taylor claims 4-5-1 is "what a lot of people have been asking for", although whether they meant this way around is another thing. Alan is still watching the subbed player, demanding "Wayne, will you calm down!". There's a growing resignation in his voice, admitting "I wouldn't say it's the most wonderful of second half performances". Until..."Gerrard with the header...and Steven Gerrard has won the group for England!" "England limp over the line!" is his second offer. Steady now, even if Butcher is backing him up with "at last we've got a victory over Sweden". Taylor is still going on about it being "a club game", and if it is then you'd want immediate defensive coaching, Green at one point shouting "Robinson was absolutely nowhere!" at goal volume. Speaking of which, "oh, and it's gone there, oh, and it's into the net!" "England have themselves to blame" he sums up, which seems obvious. Butcher puts it more brusquely - "England are absolute pants at defending on set pieces". Excellent. Still, it's still a group win, and Alan declares he's "proud of that!" as Gerrard puts a clearance into the second tier. At the final whistle the top position and Ecuadorian future is confirmed, to which Butcher immediately ripostes "yeah, but they should have had the three points here". Fair enough, but all in good time. Mark's opening gambit is "Graham, I thought England was the home of the set piece?", then starts talking about Beckham apropos of little. Taylor follows by blaming the clubs for the lack of invention in friendlies, and the level is summarily reached at last.

What we've learned: England still can't get it together after going ahead; there's a chance for Owen Hargreaves yet; Sweden appear to be styling themselves on a Premiership overachieving side from about ten years ago; Alan Green is still unshakeable in his grumpiness.

Paraguay v Trinidad & Tobago, ITV4

2006-06-21T13:35:00.000+01:00

Reasons for an Englishman to watch Paraguay v Trinidad & Tobago:

1. Experience says that England v Sweden is never exactly a thrilling affair. Yes, all right, I know, hindsight is 20/20 and all that, well done.
2. I can live without listening to another Clive Tyldesley commentary on an England match for a couple of years, cheers.
3. 'And now over to Ned Boulting at the fan park'. I refuse to believe that there's anyone who can hear these words without being swamped by an all-encompassing feeling of cold dread.
4. If I hear the phrase 'England expects' once more, I'm jolly well going to punch whoever it is that says it.

And besides, given ITV's painfully England-centric coverage thus far, who wouldn't be interested to see how they handle a game that's presumably only being watched by people who've chosen not to watch England? Oh, I see.

Anyway, same break bumpers (hnngh), same weedy Kasabian theme tune (yeurch), and here's, oh, Angus Scott. "You're in the right place" he assures us, introducing a montage from Trinidad's games so far. His expert guests are the "three name men", Hasselbaink and Okocha, "but you can call me Angus". The budget hasn't extended to sending them to Kaiserslauten, but instead to a curious set with a large square of carpet separating pundits and presenter that looks as if it was cobbled together in around ten minutes; presumably this isn't the same set that was puzzling Simon last week.

Some brief commentary on "T and T"'s prospects, off for a break - no, I don't want to watch World Cuppa, ta - and back to Angus. "In Cologne all eyes will be on Wayne Rooney" he starts, ominously, and it's off for a Gabriel Clarke package that leaves no cliché untouched (well, apart from the one about aging prostitutes, unless I missed something). What the fuck is this doing here, exactly? In an attempt to find answers, your correspondent flicked over to ITV1 just in time to catch - no! but yes! - the start of the same Rooney package. (It was at this point, and not unrelatedly, that dragging in the TV from the other room to keep an eye on what ITV1 were up to seemed like a good idea.) Rooney's return is "encouraging England to expect" claims Gabriel, tempting a punch.

So, back to the game in hand then? Er, no, time for a pretty-but-pointless graph - whatever happened to the 3D replay, anyway? - plotting England's possible route to the final. This features Italy or France as potential semi-final opponents, suggesting that nobody at ITV has watched Italy, France or England thus far. There's time for some highlights of the tournament to date, but, as Angus assures us, "possibly the greatest moment could be still to come" - Trinidad and Tobago getting through the group stage against all the odds? - "it could be England v Germany in the next round". Oh, fuck off.

It's almost a relief to cross over to Peter Drury - first time for everything, I suppose - who tells us that there's "a lovely relaxed feel about the place". What, dear reader, could he be implying? This atmosphere possibly gets to the director, who gives us lingering close-ups of any women in the crowd he happens to come across, while Peter continues in hullo clouds, hullo sky vein for about five minutes or so, give or take the odd anthem, with co-commentator David Pleat saying nothing until 38 seconds of the game has elapsed - "evening everybody" - and not adding much after that.

The game starts promisingly, Kelvin Jack being forced to turn a free kick around the post - Peter taking the opportunity to remind us that his last game was against Gretna - before Paraguay give away a series of free kicks, Yorke seemingly trying to tease them into another own goal. From one of these free kicks the reverse angle reveals that behind Dwight is a large England flag with LEYTON ORIENT emblazoned across it, and this sends Drury off into raptures about the various flags from Britain that are on display. "Crystal Palace, Liverpool, Leyton Orient, Bristol Rovers, Sheffield United, Swindon Town, Wrexham, Airdrie are here and so are Rangers." Maybe Peter's trying to subtly point out to his paymasters that PEOPLE FROM ENGLAND AND THE OTHER POOR SAPS WHO ARE HAVING TO ENDURE YOUR COVERAGE ARE INTERESTED IN OTHER MATCHES AND TEAMS OTHER THAN ENGLAND AND SO COULD YOU PLEASE STOP RAMMING THEM DOWN OUR THROATS AT ALL TIMES YOU UNBELIEVABLE CRETINS. Or maybe he's just surprised. Who can say? (Peter, by concentrating on (and seemingly being genuinely engaged by) the match in front of him and not banging on about England every couple of minutes, gives by far the least annoying ITV commentary of the tournament so far. Which, again, isn't saying much.)

In the meantime, Trinidad attempt a short corner. At last Pleat awakes from his golden slumbers, ignoring the fact that Paraguay end up scampering away with the ball and thus living up to the grand tradition of the short corner: "it's a shame that didn't work, usually it's just a whack into the box". This gets David on a roll, and he's soon praising Beenhakker for moving Yorke into midfield and allowing him to "use his brains to pass the ball all over the park". It's a delightful image if nothing else.

Paraguay gradually get on top and it's no real surprise when they score, Sancho inadvertently diverting a free-kick past Jack. "Brent Sancho will go back to Kent with many happy stories and one regret" is Drury's sympathetic response, possibly forgetting that whole Crouch/hair pulling business. The lovely friendly atmosphere rather dissipates at this point, and we may as well be watching a pre-season friendly with Trinidad now playing the role of local non-league club about to be given a pasting by a middling Championship side who're attempting to get their supporters' hopes up. This spurs Beenhakker into action - he's old and Dutch, which automatically makes him a master tactician - and he replaces a defender with Kenwyn Jones, although this may be due to confusion caused by the fact that his ID badge, dangling from a lanyard around his neck, is absolutely vast and in danger of swamping him.

Paraguay soon have the ball in the net again, which excites Drury temporarily: "That was the 2000th goal!... or at least it would have been but for a late, late flag". For a brief moment we stand on the brink of the 'active or passive' precipice, but fortunately it becomes clear that that wasn't the issue, and so instead Peter complains about the lateness of the flag. At some length. And then Marcus Allback, of all people, manages to score the 2000th World Cup Finals goal elsewhere. It's really not Peter's night.

The half ends with Paraguay on top and Cornell Glenn suffering a particularly nasty-looking injury, which the director chooses to show us from every possible angle. "Last week he bent the crossbar and this week he's bent his left leg." Cheers for that. Sancho gets booked for a forearm smash on Gamarra - another magic memory to take back to Kent - and at half time the "smiling football nation" are lucky to be only one behind.

Over to our expert pundits for their in-depth analysis of the match so far. Jimmy didn't think Joe Cole had it in him - "what are you doing there, son?" - while it's impossible to follow what Jay Jay is talking about because his tangerine tie - perhaps he's always harboured a secret desire to play for Blackpool? - with the huge knot is terribly distracting. "We've been watching the England game out of the corner of our eye" says Angus, unconvincingly; so was I, and even I could have managed better than suggesting that Paraguay were on top and that T and T will have to play better in the second half.

The second half kicks off four minutes later than Cologne, and no sooner do Trinidad embark on their first attack than Allback scores that 2000th World Cup finals goal. Peter revises his hopes downwards - "a goal for Trinidad is all that we want now" - and Kaiserslauten goes rather quiet again, so much so that we can clearly hear the announcement about how the game is a sell-out even though an awful lot of seats are clearly empty. Our commentary team go rather quiet as well - perhaps there was something on their monitors distracting them - although Pleat still has time to refer to Paraguay's "Rocky Cruz" and to enthuse about Chris Birchall: "he's not unlike Beckham in the way he runs, and his looks, and he wears number 7, not that I'm suggesting he's a Beckham". So he can defend corners at the near post then! Ho ho.

With Trinidad on the way out, it's time for Peter to come over all sentimental before the brutal business of the knock-out stages begins. Russell Latapy enters the fray, and it "shows that in football there is a little bit of room for heart" - awww. "Every World Cup needs a Trinidad and Tobago" he gushes, as he urges Yorke and Latapy to "do something special". "Come on!" he yells as Latapy blasts one narrowly over. And despite all of this, you do find yourself rather hoping that Trinidad get something out of this game. They've knocked the ball around pleasantly and Birchall and Carlos Edwards again look particularly accomplished, even if Kenwyn Jones and Evans Wise ("the left-sided dribbler" from the German third division) look hopelessly out of their depth.

But it's not to be. A particularly long announcement over the tannoy (in German, rather than the English nonsense of the earlier fib about the game being sold out) seems to have the effect of distracting everyone and a neat one-two puts Cuevas through on goal, where he has the simple task of sliding the ball past Jack. Pondering why Cuevas hadn't started the game, Pleat reveals that he "doesn't know these players all that well". It's all right David, it's ITV4 and everyone's watching England, you can tell us. It's particularly harsh on Jack, who'd been excellent throughout and was worth his place despite Hislop's splendid displays in the first two games, and not really fair on the Trinidad and Tobago team as a whole.

"They lived the dream, they lived the dream" says Peter sadly. "If Trinidad and Tobago have proved anything, it's that there is nothing more important than making friends." While Peter sends off his application for a job scheduling E4, Angus is on hand to tell us that the dream goes on for England - er, yes, they'd qualified last week, do keep up. Some in-depth analysis of the game we've just watched later - "hopeless" proclaims Jimmy; "they didn't do their business" protests Jay Jay - and it's on to what they really want to talk about, ie England. "They've won their group comfortably, not really with football" is Jimmy's verdict. "More analysis after the break" promises Angus; after the break - no, really, I said I don't want to watch World Cuppa, ta - it's an interview with, er, Sven, some 30 seconds after it had been shown on ITV1.

So, in conclusion; when ITV are confronted with a match that is only being watched by people who've chosen not to watch England, they go on and on about England anyway. It's always the obvious answers that you miss, really.

What we've learned: It's surprisingly easy to follow two games at once (and it's good practice in case you ever end up having to take a job as a security guard), but it seems to be beyond Angus Scott, Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink and Jay Jay Okocha; it's a testament to the politeness and good manners of the British public that Christian O'Connell gets through the day without anyone staving his face in; ITV Sport are beyond parody.

Ecuador v Germany, ITV1

2006-06-20T22:01:00.000+01:00

Goal of the match: Three quality goals from Germany, but the pick of the bunch was probably Lukas Podolski's first of the tournament, an expert finish from Bernd Schneider's pinpoint cross following a lightning break. It was something of an icebreaker, reconciling the goalscorer and his strike partner Miroslav Klose in celebration - before the match, the Germans' Polish-born frontmen were reportedly not on speaking terms.

Shot of the match: The Ecuadorians had several decent long-range shots in the second half, the best being Edison Mendez's free-kick which Jens Lehmann was nowhere near but which curled just over the bar.

Miss of the match: Podolski drove wide following a great move when he should really have scored, let alone hit the target.

Pass of the match: Michael Ballack's inch-perfect flick through for Klose's second goal.

Man of the match: Probably between Klose, now the tournament's leading scorer, and Schneider. Mention should also be made of Christian Lara, the substitute who practically achieved the impossible in breathing life into Ecuador with his pace and eagerness, in the absence of the likes of Carlos Tenorio and Segundo Castillo. (Incidentally, at just 5'3" he's also the shortest footballer at the World Cup - Shaun Wright-Phillips would have given him a run for his money...)

He was playing?!: Felix Borja, withdrawn at half-time, is apparently Olympiakos-bound. Well, he showed nothing of the form that won him that move - though, as Jim Beglin pointed out, service was hardly forthcoming.

How to express disappointment Podolski-style: Lift up the front of your shirt and put it in your mouth.

Manager who most closely rivals Mexico's Ricardo La Volpe in the seriousness stakes: Luis Suarez.

Player who most resembles a pre-whitening Michael Jackson: Luis Fernandez.

Players who most resemble a pair of bouncers: I can easily imagine Ecuadorian central defenders Jorge Guagua and Giovanni Espinosa giving a pissed-up troublemaker a good shoeing in an alleyway. Robert Huth might join in, for that matter.

Missed opportunity for a German World Cup single: 'Frings Can Only Get Better'.

The Titus Bramble Award For Being Built Like A Brick Shithouse And Looking Solid For Most Of The Game But Cocking Up Badly At Inopportune Moments: It's Guagua again, rivalling USA's Oguchi Onyewu. What was he doing ducking out of a tackle with a player as slight as Germany left-back Phillipp Lahm?

Most bizarre moment of the match: Ballack's refusal to trust the Ecuadorians to give the ball back after it was kicked out for an injury. Edwin Tenorio refused the proferred hand and later exacted revenge by catching the German skipper in the face with his arm.

Today's groundsman: Alan Cairncross, head groundsman at the Olympiastadion. A Scotsman and former soldier, Cairncross learned his trade on the greens of St Andrews. (Thanks for that, Jon Champion.)

Stat attack: Before the game, Michael Ballack had 31 goals in 67 games. As a midfielder, that's pretty incredible.

Overstatement Corner: Good ol' Des Lynam has slated coverage of the World Cup, singling out Champion for particular criticism by pointing out his penchant for overstatement - and he didn't disappoint today. The remodelled Olympiastadion "reeks of stature" - it's "a stadium that represents Germany's history and his conscience". At the end he referred hyperbolically to "this heartbeat of a city, this monument of a stadium".

The NME Build 'Em Up, Knock 'Em Down Award: Champion claimed that England would represent "a step up in class for Germany", but was more insistent in his digs at the Germans than in his inflationary comments about Our Boys. "There is just a suspicion that they're like a car with faulty brakes - you know they're going to crash, it's just a matter of time", he stated in the first half, and, later on (in reference to Oliver Kahn - or was it Lehmann?), "What is it about German football that it has spawned so many dominant, self-opinionated personalities?"

Lost in translation: "To steal JFK's line, Robert Huth ist ein Berliner". Calling Huth a jelly doughnut - you're a braver man than me, Champion.

The Two Ronnies Award: Beglin: "I think if you'd offered Klinsmann a one goal lead at the break he'd have snapped your hand off". Champion: "Isn't that a fine from FIFA, snapping someone's hand off?"

Surprise surprise: Before kick-off, everything Ruud Gullit said seemed to register surprise - "They were watering the pitch!", "Ecuador played very well!", "The Germans CAN organise things!".

What we learned: Germany can score goals aplenty and probably are a team to worry about after all; Ecuador aren't the same side without key players like Castillo, Carlos Tenorio and Ivan Hurtado; Des Lynam was right.

Spain v Tunisia, BBC1

2006-06-20T20:31:00.000+01:00

Spain, eh? A full gamut of penalty misses and general early exit sorrow-ridden faces to, oh lord, Toploader's Achilles Heel makes way as Gary points out they'd hardly been mentioned before the tournament, at which we get the full Arcade Fire over multi-angled shots of their first game. They've only played one, get a grip. With Tunisia given only as much build-up as the BBC team (Alan Hansen, Ian and Martin) can muster Alan wants to talk up the new Spanish threat, reminding us "the last few times we've said this'll be their time" before Gary jumps in with "and you've backed them every time!" Martin is more cautious, claiming they still have "one or two players who wouldn't be in everyone's starting eleven" and exercises worry over Luis Garcia, as he can do things "just when you feel like strangling him", Alan claiming that while he's got better since in his first year at Liverpool "he broke the world record for jumping out of the way". The review of the Saudi-Ukraine game is worth mentioning for the 'hilarious' montage of great passing ending in the shot of the ball coming off Graham Poll, introduced by Gary's usual giveaway "and you spotted something in the earlier game..." As the previous day there's a lookalike, and this time it's one for which "you need a little bit of imagination", as apparently a Ukraine defender resembles a young Hansen, or as Ian puts it "he looks like you, baby!" We know what's next all along, although Hansen nearly escapes it by telling a story about colliding with Willie Miller at a golf day twenty years later. Gary chips in with a story you can tell he's thinking twice about the more he's nudged into going into detail about Aragones having a nervous breakdown during a team meeting. "Bloody hell" Ian is head to mutter, while Alan sportingly offers "was it because you played badly again?"

With the thoughts of Ian that Spain "can have a crumble up" ringing in their ears we welcome Jonathan and Mark on "a sultry night...the evening skies just darkening", thus setting the scene for much of the evening's preoccupation. "Gone are the days of bickering...I think" Pearce cautiously advises before noting "one of the assistants is a military policeman - not too much dissent this afternoon, then" before ruining the line, such as it was one, by mentioning the intentional dissent crackdown. He then says of Torres "the press build-up focused on his goal celebrations", almost in wonder at the foreign press. Peter Crouch must have sucked a thoughtful tooth at that one. Spain are on top very early on, a David Villa shot getting "ah, what a stinging effort!" in a way nobody surely really says, but suddenly "and Tunisia have the lead!...How about this for an upset?" Oddly the prospect of such an upset, and at such a time, doesn't seem to appeal to either Pearce or Lawrenson, who seem to spend much of the first half in private conversation about Spanishness as Pearce recalls meeting a man in a flamenco dress at Euro 2000 and Lawrenson gives climate updates every couple of minutes until it finally starts raining visibly.

"Just when you think it's all different..." Gary ponders. Martin's off on vintage form, firstly admitting "I don't want to be too technical" only after having identified that the three in the midfield for Spain were a nearly accurate "eight or nine yards" apart, then having an old fashioned argument with Alan about a defensive technicality. Wright meanwhile is fulfilling his own part of the agenda, spotting a fly on the lens of a shot down pitch and declaring "it's a Spanish fly!" before leading the laughter more in hope than anything.

"It's certainly not scorchio" is Lawrenson's latest weather update, as he and Pearce spend much of the early stages of the second half in a positive torpor. That's before the move from which, at Pearce's ever speeding rate, I can just about make out 'Torres' and 'Raul' before "over the years, they say he is Mr Spain". Raul has scored, just as Pearce seems to think he would, marvelling that he was "brought on to save the game, he could have done just that". Lawro is surprised as "he was hopeless with three H's" against Ireland, whatever that means. Four minutes later "the goalkeeper's coming a long, long way... and Spain have the lead!" Torres has "turned the game upside down", while Mark level headedly decides "the goalkeeper wants locking up, Jonathan". A goal later and Pearce is counting his chickens merrily, stating Torres could be the star of tournament at the final whistle.

Back in the studio Martin seems excited by the prospect of Spain, claiming "I don't think you needed a genius to work out" Spain would work a way out of their trouble eventually. Really. Raul, apparently "an experienced cookie", made the difference and while Spain aren't exactly Argentina yet the view is they're going to be something this time around. Again, we've heard that before. "This guy didn't have a great day" we're told of Tunisian Ayari over a shot of him having a paddy going off and failing to take his shirt off properly. "I don't think he's enamoured" Alan adjudicates, while Gary pleads leniency: "It's not fair! It's not an easy thing, taking your shirt off, for a footballer." While he's in the mood Alan slips a jibe in at Togo - "It was great that they turned up in the first place, but..." As we're half way through we get an inevitable super slo-mo compilation, Gary somewhat destroying the intention immediately afterwards by claiming "the really good news is, it all starts now" before Alan can call the tournament the "best of all time". Hopefully he meant potentially. "Can you hear the drums, Fernando?" is a particularly weak effort from Gary before he - couldn't resist, could he? - bidding us "buenos nochas".

What we've learned: the Spanish are tenacious if nothing else, and could well provide the Golden Boot winner if Klose (what odds was he?) doesn't; Tunisia are much the same promise not matched by ability side they always are; Dan Corbett's job is safe.

Togo v Switzerland, BBC1

2006-06-20T09:26:00.000+01:00

Like many, I’ve had a perverse fascination with Togo, stretching back to their struggle in the African Nations Cup. If only their team had just the one problem to deal with. Indeed, in trying to sum up all the back-stories, the VT is sped up, overdubbed and merged together to try and fit it all in. The footage is also stylishly treated, giving new, and put-upon, gaffer Otto Pfister, a sunken-eyed undead appearance.

They merge this into footage of Otto climbing off the coach for this game, an appearance that was in some doubt, as was that of the entire squad, who were threatening to boycott the game, with their financial arguments with their Federation still ongoing. "There’s the money in the bag there, Ray” says Alan Shearer as Adebayor climbs off the coach with an over-shoulder sack several times bigger than those of his colleagues. Considering Adebayor’s standing amongst his team-mates, you can imagine he might well think ‘screw it, then’ before cutting and running with the moolie. Let us praise Alan for his vigilance.

The panel today, Marcel Desailly and Lee Dixon alongside Al with Oswestry Town’s finest Ray Stubbs behind the bar, are all at pains to absolve the players of any blame in the matter. Back home, the good people of Togo, living in a country where the per capita income is well short of US$1,000, are not entirely happy with their footballing representatives asking for US$196,000 a game and US$38,000 for each win. However, with the Togo football federation richer to the tune of 3 million thanks to their qualification, and having made certain promises to their players, the panel argue that the players are just making sure those assurances are seen through.

Alan suggests that such heel-digging is not just for the World Cup stars, warning “by the way if our money’s not in the bank from the BBC at half-time, then we’re off as well.” “I wasn’t sure we came to an agreement on how much you were paying us to take part” retorts Stubbsie, keen to protect the interests of the licence payer.

It always takes a while when discussing Togo to get to on-field matters but when they do, Marcel conveys his disappointment with their star man Adebayor in the last game, “he didn’t show any skill” he says, bluntly, while Alan spends his time marvelling at how much he looks like Nwankwo Kanu.

They then use the small amount of time they have left, having unravelled the tangled flex that is Togolese football administration, to mention Switzerland. “They’re a tough team to beat” says Alan, “some teams just gel” adds Stubbsie, while Marcel puts in a word for Alexander Frei. Lee Dixon, with the blue-light flashing on his Hyperbole-Watch helmet decides to bring back the common sense approach, cutting in with “let’s get this straight, Switzerland can’t win it.” Good contribution, Lee.

Out in the stadium, and Guy Mowbray has been infected by general glee concerning last nights result in Group G, saying “Even tiny Togo will pack more of a punch than France did”, although he is slightly more gallant than Ian Wright, by apologizing to Marcel for saying so. Noticing a brightly painted Togo fan brandishing a suitcase decorated with his countries flag, Guy extends Alan’s gag from earlier “there’s the case, does that have the Togolese money in it,” both men seeming to believe that the Togo saga is nothing more than an elaborate World Cup edition of ‘Deal or No Deal’.

Then we see the Togo bench, and there is their yo-yo manager Theophilus P. Pfister, exchanging his plunging neckline and medallion effort from the Korea game for a cool pink short-sleeved shirt. Somewhere in Dortmund there is a strip-club barstool with a place-keeping coat over the back of it.

With regards the referee, Mowbray uses the “show me the way to Amarilla” line which I’m sure has been used by someone else during this tournament. The officials are all from Paraguay, “they’ll be hoping they’re here longer than their country’s team will be” mocks Guy.

After kick-off, Togo keeper Kossi Agassi, inconsistent in the Nations Cup, comes to the attention, Guy informing us that “he’s been warming the bench at Metz for four seasons. Goes by the nickname magic hands though.” Mark Bright stifles a chuckle, “didn’t he only play one game last season.” “So, as you say, he’s fresh” says Guy cheerily as they warm to Togo. Mohamed Kader has a good opportunity in the 6th minute, which he welts straight into the hands of keeper Pascal Zuberbuhler. “I would have expected better” says Guy, the star of Togo’s on-field abilities clearly rising. “Adebayor and Kader already causing problems, Senderos may have more problems with these than he did with Henry and co” suggests the man Mowbray, reinforcing his ‘aren’t France shit?’ point

They make the first of many references to the fairy-tale story of Togo’s Richmond Forson, who plays for Jeanne d’Arc Poire in the French Atlantic league “which is semi pro at best.” “He’s in the shop window, they all want to play in Europe” says Bright, temporarily unable to locate France on a map.

Slightly against the run of play, Alexander Frei opens the scoring for Switzerland in the 16th minute, the unmarked Tranquillo Barnetta receiving a looping cross-field ball from Ludovic Magnin, before belting it towards Frei who positions his leg to deflect the ball in. Swiss gaffer Kobi Kuhn is clearly delighted. “he’s here against doctor’s orders” says Guy “sweating out that fever.” If he wants a lesson in proper sweating though, he need only glance across at the Togo bench. In reacting to Adebayor being denied a penalty after being caught by the trailing leg of Patrick Muller, we see Otto Pfister fly off the bench, revealing more than a hint of moisture under each arm. Later, after viewing the penalty incident again, Ray Stubbs casually remarks “Fair to say football can be the pits sometimes.”

After the goal, and for the next half hour up to the break, Switzerland don’t see a great deal of the ball, Togo upping their game in the face of all the ‘laughing stock’ expectations. It is entertaining stuff, “bright game, enjoying this” says Ray during the interval. They then show various examples of why Adebayor is living up to his billing in this game, on every level, showing his jinking, passing and one case of him angrily berating one of his team-mates. If ‘mates’ is indeed the right word.

In the England bit, Garth Crooks drills into Sven’s tranquil veneer, interrogating him about the striking options for Sweden, and the international merits of Owen Hargreaves, Sven visibly bristling at the notion that the Bayern man has been heavily criticised by press and fans at home. The jolly VT finds them in Gelsenkirchen, in Wolfgang Fischer’s garden to be exact. He’s a chap who is currently putting up fans from 10 countries in his house and garden for free. Ivan Gaskill ends the piece saying “well, if you can’t beat them join them” before dipping between the tent flaps. “That was Ivan’s camp report” says Deadpan Stubbs, with the subtlest hint of double entendre.

Switzerland turn up the burners in the 50th minute, Barnetta bringing an acrobatic tip over from Agassi, Hakan Yakin belting just wide from a similar spot a couple of minutes later. Togo continue to have long spells of possession but in this second period look as soggy up front as their coach’s shirt. We cut to another shot of the Togo bench, the increased damp suggesting that Pfister has traded his nipples for garden sprinklers.

Swiss fans, naturally outnumbering the Togolese, turn up the noise “they look like they’re happy with one” says Guy. In the 64th minute, the Swiss bring about a chance from virtually nowhere, Frei flicking on for Hakan Yakin to again bring a save from the increasingly confident looking Agassi. In the 81st minute, after another sustained but aimless spell of Togo possession, Frei attempts an audacious lob from 30 yards but it dips onto the roof of the net.

In the final minute, Switzerland’s clincher comes, Mauro Lustrinelli, seconds after coming on for Frei, spots a red-shirt clear on the right, threading it across the box for Barnetta to hammer the ball in off the far post. A defeat of this size is perhaps a little harsh on Togo who put in a performance, at least in the first half, which belied their preparation. That said, they’ve been wasteful and laissez-faire more often that not on the attack and never really cause Zuberbuhler any problems. On the other hand; despite a grey, sluggish, utilitarian performance from Switzerland, they did cause Agassi to be at his best on a fair number of occasions and ultimately won without needing to step it up.

“For Togo, time to go” says the ever succinct Stubbsie, signing off.

Pee Wee’s playhouse secret word: Organized (re: Swiss), Disorganized (re: Togo)

Referee (Carlos Amarilla, Paraguay): “sorry son, no denim”

These things I believe: Some of Togo’s passing and attacking play towards the end of the first half was really quite thrilling. Imagine what they could be capable of without all the other bullshit going on, and if they all got on with their Adebayor. That said they could do with a lot more savvy in the final third. – If it comes down to goal difference, Switzerland will certainly rue their lacklustre attempts to kill this contest – My old man said be a Togo fan, I said… -- Thank god for a change in the German weather, Otto Pfister would have melted by Friday.

A Wright howler

2006-06-19T23:07:00.000+01:00

Not sure how long this clip will survive on the notoriously censorious YouTube, but for the benefit of anyone who missed it, here is Ian Wright's reaction to seeing William Gallas boot the ball in frustration after France conceded a late equaliser to Korea on Sunday night. I wonder how Marcel might choose to react if England have a similar shambles at some point in the tournament to come?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yED1EW42EUw

Saudi Arabia v Ukraine, ITV1

2006-06-19T22:09:00.000+01:00

Goal of the match: Sergei Rebrov's long-range drive was a fine strike, even though it found its way into the Saudi net more easily thanks to 'keeper Mahbrouk Zaid's untimely slip. Jon Champion pointed out "look at the shock on his face" - and on the faces of Spurs fans, I imagine.

Shot of the match: Maxim Kalinichenko's rasping left-foot shot that pinged off the crossbar.

Save of the match: Nothing of note. Olexandr Shovkovskiy hardly touched the ball, while his opposite number Zaid conceded four and looked as comfortable as a man wearing a hair shirt dusted with itching powder.

Miss of the match: Kalinichenko skilfully worked himself an opening late on but blazed over when he should have made it five.

Pass of the match: Anatoliy Tymoschuk's perfectly weighted ball to Andriy Shevchenko, who took it down well but couldn't apply the necessary finish.

Man of the match: Kalinichenko, a livewire on the left side of midfield whose right-footed delivery had Jim Beglin purring. Before the rain left his blond barnet in rat-tails, his mop seemed to approximate that of Pavel Nedved, and he certainly displayed the Czech skipper's energy and verve.

He was playing?!: The Saudi attack was non-existent (not a single shot on goal, I think), so let's give it to Mohammed Ameen, whose withdrawal on 55 minutes first alerted me to the fact that he'd been on the field.

Shevchenkowatch: "What does £30m buy you?", wondered Jim Rosenthal pre-match, and at the break his declaration that "it's Sheva time!" was looking decidedly daft. The Ukrainian captain had, like Porky Ronaldo, seemed off the pace and out-of-sorts, missing presentable chances and misplacing passes. The Thierry Henry Award For Choking In Big Games was definitely heading his way, but 40 seconds into the second period he scored with a header, and later outpaced the Saudi defence to cue up Kalinichenko perfectly for the fourth.

Player who could or should have appeared in the 'Lord Of The Rings' trilogy: Andriy Voronin. Not only does that surname sound like a character from 'Lord Of The Rings', but he's got that high-ponytail-with-long-bits-at-the-back which makes you think he might be quite handy at sword-brandishing.

Player who provided me with my first glimpse of a Proper Beard at this year's tournament: Saudi substitute Abdulaziz Khathran. The likes of Gary Neville, Nelson Valdez, Ivan Klasnic and David Villa should be ashamed.

Player whose wife should be called Rene for comedy value: Andriy Rusol.

The man in the middle: Graham Poll, in whom Champion and Beglin seem more interested than the match. Apparently he was a promising footballer as an amateur, but refereed his first game at the age of 17. That speaks volumes about the officious pompous idiot. In his eagerness to be the centre of attention, he very nearly provided an assist for Ukraine, and he also did his best to look like your average Englishman abroad, all exaggerated gestures and expressions for the benefit of those unable to understand shouting in English.

Most bizarre moment of the match: Saudi coach Marcos Paqueta's tactics board, which looked a bit like a Scrabble board but with coloured counters. Rosenthal seized on it with relish, saying after the match: "For Saudi Arabia it's back to the drawing board - or, in their coach's case, back to the chequers board".

Stat attack: Saudi Arabia have qualified for every World Cup since 1990 but haven't won a game since beating Belgium to get to the knockout stages in Italy with that solo goal. Which of course they showed as soon as talk turned to Saudi Arabia, a mere 18 minutes into the coverage.

They wouldn't let it lie: Hurrah! Rain! Which meant no more blathering on about heat and the players' water intake. But it just gave Champion and Beglin a new pet subject, the slippiness and zippiness of the surface. Which they took every opportunity to mention.

Learning the lingo: I now know "what [Poll] calls a 'ceremonial'" (according to Champion) - it's a free-kick when the ten yards for the wall is paced out properly and everything is done to the book. The opposite of a quickly-taken free-kick, in other words.

The Commentators' Things About Saudi Arabia To Mention Checklist: The world's most capped player is their reserve 'keeper Muhammad Al Daeyea (who, judging by Zaid's performance, must be REALLY shit)? Check. They're due £87,000 bonuses each if they qualify from the group? Check. Leading striker Sami Al-Jaber once played for Wolves? Check. They're bankrolled by the Saudi royal family? Check. (The Saudi King wasn't present, detained at home due to domestic business - "So might you be with a reported 30 wives and 35 children", quips Champion.)

The In Your Face! Award For Graceless Boasting: Champion mentioned Ecuador v Germany and Sweden v England: "Both matches on THIS channel!".

Sticking the boot in: Robbie Earle referred to Ronaldo as looking "like an ex pro that's been out of the game for four or five years" and taking part in SoccerAid. Meanwhile at the final whistle Champion commented: "Saudi Arabia have laid claim to being the worst team at this year's World Cup".

Level of interest shown in game at hand: What do you think? The coverage begins with Shevchenko, soon leading into a discussion of ageing greats who've thus far failed to shine (Zidane, Ronaldo) while conveniently ignoring those who have, at least in patches (Figo, Nedved, Totti). Then more of the series about 1966 - students cramming into a Mini, World Cup Willie and the USSR v West Germany semi-final. At half-time, unbelievably, they went straight onto England, with a Gabriel Clarke report from the camp, and Ned Boulting in Cologne. The pundits' analysis of the first half was squeezed into a couple of minutes immediately before the second period. And then at the end, after a few cursory remarks, it was on to Harry Kewell's berating of Markus Merk, Patrick Vieira's disallowed goal and England again, wrapping up with a montage of action from England v Trinidad & Tobago...

What we learned: Ukraine - "dismembered and dismayed" by the thrashing by Spain, according to Champion - are still very much in the tournament; Saudi Arabia won't be for very much longer; rain makes the pitch slippery.

France v South Korea, BBC1

2006-06-19T21:25:00.000+01:00

Welcome to Leipzig, and we open with a moody Gallic piece showing how long it is since France last scored a World Cup goal, just to taunt poor old Marcel Desailly (part of tonight's panel, who have "an average age only marginally higher than that of the French!") that little bit further.

Gary warns us that South Korea made "nearly the highest number of completed passes in the opening round of games with 544 - that's just ahead of England's 37!" Sven "has some important team news for us," announces Gary, only to link to yet another Garth Crooks interview just as the vision of Sven holding a microphone and doing a piece direct to camera faded into my mind. Apparently Rooney and Owen will play upfront, reveals Garth exclusively (mere hours after almost every website announced the same story).

Lineker brings up the now-infamous stat of Henry never scoring from a Zidane assist (Marcel promises "it will happen tonight!"), before telling us French coach Raymond Domenech distrusts players born in the Scorpio starsign. "I wouldn't make his team then!" laughs Ian. "Everyone knows it's Capricorns you need to worry about!" declares Gary.

It's 4am in Korea but there are expected to be 300,000 people watching in the streets of Seoul, according to Steve Wilson. Mark Lawrenson doesn't know what the Korean fans are on, but he wants some.

"Thierry Henry scores! Had to come good sooner or later!" is Steve's first meaningful contribution to the match, some eight minutes in. "France have finally woken up to the stage they are on." The assist came from Wiltord, not Zidane, in case anyone was wondering.

Lee Ho fouls the impressive Florent Malouda. "I've been asking all day how come Lee Ho is just 'Lee Ho' when everyone else has three names," remarks Wilson. "I haven't had an answer." "Good luck!" offers Lawro.

We see a close-up of the Domenech, causing Lawrenson to analyse the big issue of the day: "I'm trying to think who he reminds me of, I just can't work it out..." "David Steel, the old England cricket captain?" offers Steve. "Eddie Jordan, there you go - with glasses!" confirms an inspired Lawro.

Park Ji-Sung "lost his slipper..oh sorry, boot!" according to Mark, who also takes time to declare "I've never seen so many close ups of a ball in my *life*!"

France are awarded a free-kick as Henry is bundled to the floor by Choi Jin-Cheul. "Who's going to take this?!" asks Wilson incredulously as Zidane, Henry, Malouda, Gallas and Wiltord all surround the ball. Lawro helpfully keeps count as the French players slowly drift away: "It was a quintet, now a quartet...now a trio..." The referee meanwhile goes insane with his whistle as he tries to instruct the Koreans to step back a further 6 inches, and finally Henry smacks the free-kick straight into the wall.

Lawrenson is unimpressed as Henry drops to the floor optimistically when under pressure with just the keeper to beat. "I think he guers ['goes' - Ed] over too easily - I think if he's a bit stronger he gets a second goal for France!" We see it again in slow-mo to allow Mark to tell us in more detail whether it was a penalty: "No. No, no, no, no, no, no..."

France soon have another corner, from which Vieira apparently heads the ball beyond the line. "It's a howler - should have been 2-0 to France!" says Mark. Steve can't understand why the linesman didn't give the decision. We see a completely unhelpful replay from the pole camera behind the goal, which as Lawrenson points out "shows us nothing". "This might give us the view," suggests Wilson optimistically a few minutes later as the incident is replayed from a camera on the half-way line. Just replay it from the original angle, for heaven's sake!

Look, in the stands - it's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's Franz Beckenbauer! "Franz Beckenbauer being at the game goes without saying because Franz Beckenbauer's been at every game," explains Steve, for the benefit of anyone who's just joined us. "Tell you what, the engine on his helicopter will need a refit soon!" quips Lawrenson.

Eric Abidal hobbles off for treatment just before half-time after a seemingly innocuous collision with Park Ji-Sung. The referee restarts play with a drop ball, although seemingly having to explain the concept to Lee Ho, the Korean waiting to sportingly punt the ball back downfield to Fabien Barthez. We don't see it on camera, but Wilson tells us that "the referee applauds Lee Ho!" - a turn of events that has Lawrenson chuckling away like a loon. "Funnily enough I haven't seen anyone applauding the referee!"

During the interval, Gary picks up on Lawrenson's 'Domenech lookalikey' theme. "We've had one or two emails from viewers - Parker from Thunderbirds I thought wasn't bad, and one I really did like and I think is pretty accurate: Paul O'Grady?" "Eddie Jordan's an 8, Parker's a 7" is Hansen's declaration. "It's good to see France have stopped using those lookalikeys for Henry and Vieira anyway!" quips Lineker, before pointing out that Barthez has a doppelganger in the crowd tonight - "he's actually got goalkeeper's gloves on as well!" cackles Ian Wright.

Today's England interviewee is Rio Ferdinand, and afterwards Lineker asks Desailly for his view "on Rio Ferdinand". "Henry or Ferdinand? I mean it's two different players..." questions Marcel, not unreasonably considering Gary's slight Leicestershire twang. The confusion isn't immediately obvious and Gary asks Marcel to explain his remark - with *hilarious* consequences! Even Ian Wright is struggling to hear Lineker above the tannoy outside. "Clean. Sheets. Are. Important?" repeats Gary. "Very. Important!" agrees Wright. "It's amazing how your hearing goes when you get past 40!" concludes Lineker.

Steve Wilson is amused as the French players take an age to return back onto the pitch at the restart. "The referee has got the second half underway with Thuram still jogging on and out of position, which I suppose would serve them right if you can't get back on time."

"Your mate the referee has got one right!" points out Lawrenson after a slow-motion replay shows Vieira clearly pushes Jin-Cheul over whilst trying to get on the end of a cross. Wilson had protested vehemently up until the replay, incidentally.

Malouda slices a shot horribly wide from the edge of the area, and a replay delightfully shows the ball bouncing off a camera and scaring the life out of an official in the background. "The guy in the suit behind the cameraman was in more danger than the goalkeeper!" explains Lawro.

France are continually looking towards Zidane to provide the spark, causing Steve to gush: "Never stops moving, Zidane, does he? Just sort of flows and swirls...like a ripple on a river with a ball at his feet! I think it was Di Stefano who once said that 'Zidane played like he had silk gloves on his feet...'"
"Some news coming from the Togo team camp, by the way - the Togo team will apparently have a meeting tomorrow to decide whether they will play their match against Switzerland, and guess why, Mark?" "Money?" "They want more money." "That's awfully kind of them..."
Whilst all of the above is happening, play has stopped as Patrick Vieira and Lee Ho receive treatment after a collision. "You know what he did?" asks Mark to Steve, regarding Patrick. "He hurt his knee on a South Korean's head!" "Lee Ho's right ear will be buzzing," announces Steve as we see a replay. "Sorry?" says Lawro, true to form. It appears to be more than just earache for Lee Ho, who is soon substituted. "If the coach is shouting at him to come off, he can just pretend he can't hear him!" suggests Mark, sympathetically.

"It may only be 1-0 but it's amongst the most one-sided matches in the World Cup, though the swagger that France have is nothing akin to that of the Argentines, it has to be said." Commentators' curse, anyone?

Abidal collects a yellow card "and will miss the Togo game", according to Wilson. "If there is one!" Lawrenson reminds us.

Korea begin to show promise, with several decent attacks in quick succession. "Easy for Barthez from the Kim Dong-Jin header. But it's an effort on goal, and it's their first!" observes Steve. 30 seconds later, Wolves' Seol Ki-Hyeon crosses from the right wing: "Cho Jae-Jin! And it's gone in!" rhymes Wilson as a crouching Barthez desperately fails to stop a flick-on from point-blank range (in fact, the ball may have been going over the bar before Barthez's fingertips redirect it sideways into the corner of the goal). Cue mass hysteria from the masses of bouncing Korean fans throughout the stadium. "Korea have scored and I think it was Park Ji-Sung who bundled it over the line! France, who have been in complete control for 80 minutes, have been undone!"

Perhaps one of the iconic images of this World Cup as a replay of the equaliser ends with a frustrated Gallas picking the ball out of the net and booting it back towards the centre spot with a look of utter disgust on his face. "Look at William Gallas - he is furious, and the French should be!" comments Wilson. "They've been the better side by the length of the Champs Elysees, but it's 1-1!" "Barthez had a bit of a flick stroke snatch at it," says Mark at his double-entendre best. "In the end it's gone in in slow motion." It's a slow-motion replay, Mark...

"France have completely blown it," declares Steve. "They've got 7 minutes plus stoppage time to get themselves out of a hole of entirely their own making." They promptly blow their first chance to start digging, as Zidane threads the ball through to Henry, only for Thierry to hit his shot straight at the keeper. A frustrated Zidane follows up slightly too aggressively for the referee's liking and picks up his second yellow card of the tournament, thus missing the Togo match (which we earlier learned is to be played on Zizou's 34th birthday). The action is by now end-to-end, so it takes an increasingly high-pitched Wilson a few minutes to realise the significance of this: "We might be seeing the end of Zinedine Zidane here - he retires after the World Cup. He ain't gonna play in their third group game, and who knows - the way it's shaping up France might not have a fourth game here!"

Wilson starts to dream the impossible dream as Korea have a free-kick inside stoppage time. "Just imagine if they score now. Just imagine if South Korea score now. This could be the last kick of the game!" As the ball goes wide, Lawrenson reminds us of the disallowed goal in the first half, whilst Barthez's goal kick actually turns out to be the final kick.
"France have blown it!" repeats Wilson, before attempting to set a new record for closing statements. "And not for the first time! On the big stage, they had the game in their grasp - trying to swagger their way through the second half, and they've been caught cold with a sucker punch from Park Ji-Sung. And Raymond Domenech will be vilified and castigated. France had the game in their grasp - they threw it away. Why didn't they play when they were 1-0 up? Park Ji-Sung has won a point for South Korea. France have played 2, and drawn 2 - they might not go through. What a result for the Koreans! What a calamity for the French! There's the man who scored the equaliser...well, Dick Advocaat's side have made headlines in Leipzig. The French have thrown it away - France 1 South Korea 1..."

"Marcel must be gutted," suggests Wright during the post-match analysis. "I've never heard quite such a loud cry of anguish as came from your good self when they equalised?" enquires Gary to Desailly, clearly not having learned after the half-time Rio/Henry blunder how to be speaking of the easily comprehensible English for the assistance of the pundits what are foreign.
We then review Korea's equaliser, and Hansen adds insult to injury by asking Desailly to analyse Gallas' frustration. "It's nothing to talk about, because you laugh a lot..." says the Frenchman, clearly depressed after watching the match amongst 3 unsympathetic Brits. Ian Wright shrieks with laughter like a schoolgirl as Marcel sounds about ready to take them all on: "Don't laugh, I am upset also..." Now that would be worth paying to watch. Hansen twists the knife even further by reminding Desailly that he predicted an Henry goal from a Zidane pass, and we briefly reflect on the latter's booking and consequent absence from the final group game.

In an attempt to pacify the rankled Desailly, we review Saturday's win for Ghana against the Czechs and Desailly is complimented on the performance of the country of his birth. Hansen and Wright eventually realise it's not good form to take the piss non-stop and start to identify positives for the French, and there's even a moment of positive analysis of the Koreans amidst the non-stop French perspective. Finally, Lineker wraps things up by reminding us that "Korea grab a late point despite being played off the Park." Goodnight everybody!

What we've learned: France are less cohesive as a unit than Serbia & Montenegro (maybe it's time for French devolution to avoid the Zidane followers from ever having to play alongside the Henry brigade?); Korea have somehow collected 4 points from this tournament despite looking like a pub team in the first half of both matches; Steve Wilson gets admirably effusive during dramatic finishes; Lawrenson isn't half as annoying when he's not got Motson as his equally unfunny foil; and Marcel Desailly is a ticking timebomb, about 3 jokes away from going postal in the BBC studio towards anyone who's ever made a light-hearted remark against the French team.

Brazil v Australia, ITV1

2006-06-19T08:14:00.000+01:00

Like many millions of others, I was an unsuccessful ticket applicant for this year’s World Cup. Three games I applied for, of which this was one (Togo v Switzerland, and Portugal v Mexico were the others I think). I wasn’t the only one intrigued by this game, the most heavily applied for of all, apparently. Still, no matter, plenty of money saved and the chance to enjoy the game in the company of Terry Venables. Which is much better, obviously.

That said, messers Venables, Gullit and Rider have a special guest with them for the occasion. With ITV’s commentary team making all manner of cricket references during the tournament (and not just when the Aussies are on display), it is quite fitting that they should fly in Shane Warne for Australia’s biggest ever soccer fixture. He’s not an expert, but that certainly hasn’t stopped him from offering opinions before.

Shane is placed at the centre of our more regular chums, and is asked by our host how he feels about this beautiful game. “I enjoy it”, he says twice, both times prefaced by a Tony Blair-like “look,…” that indicates a ‘for Crissakes, will you LISTEN!’ exasperation. This is his first contribution, but is perhaps forearmed with advance irritation in the expectation of several lame cricketing gags. He doesn’t have to wait long, Steve Rider linking on with “Watching Brazil, it’s just like watching England at cricket down the years,” that is pitched in that troubling medium between self-deprecation and cheeky wind-up. Unsure, Shane coughs a chuckle.

Its then briefly onto Brazil, Terry V pulling his best Albert Steptoe to mock those whinging about Brazil’s below-par performance against Croatia. Back to Australia, and the talk is of determination, Shane suggesting that Australian self-belief is with you from birth, going that extra mile to mime a fairly fluid forceps delivery whilst doing so. Clearly the ITV producer thinks the cricket gags haven’t been harvested thoroughly enough though, showing a hefty bobble that troubled Japan keeper Yosikazu Kawaguchi in the day’s previous game. Cue talk of ‘edges’, ‘bit of rough’, ‘turn’ yada yada yada, leaving one barren ol’ shaft of puns. Doesn’t mean they’re going to stop mining it though, that is clear.

Ned Boulting’s customary fanfare for the common man finds him in the park amongst the two tribes of yellow. He chats to a bloke dressed as Steve Irwin, asking the inflatable-croc wrangler whether or not he’d like to say hello to Shane Warne who’s in their studio. “Err, hello” says their prole of choice, in a manner that suggests his wife may have been receiving an unusually high volume of texts recently.

Doubts remain about the fitness and psychological readiness of Ronaldo. “Here’s Ned Boulting, again” sighs Steve, seemingly light on the colleagues, and the over-worked Nedward stands up to ask his question to Ronaldinho at a press conference. “Are you worried about Ronaldo?”. “No” says Ronaldinho, as his fingers are bent back by a Nike executive beneath the table. The team are less convinced, Gullit mocking that he left the field in the last game and “his shirt had no sweat on it.” “But he’s not fat” defends Steve, seeming to flashback to a portly and toilet-bowl-dunked youth.

Into the stadium and Jon Champion suggests Brazil’s national anthem is the most ideal around: “Chaotic and cordial in equal measure.” Once again the effects mic is up on the roving camera for the anthems, and not for the first time it sounds just like that day you were mucking about with a karaoke CD-ROM on your work PC with everyone joining in, but neither you or your colleagues were willing to really sell it, in case the boss heard you in the upstairs meeting room. Yeah, thats right, just like that day.

As the Aussie anthem ends, Jon Champs informs us that this is “one of the most eagerly awaited games of this World Cup” before allowing us to await it a bit longer through a break for a single advert. As we come back, it appears that Jon believes we are coming up to Halloween already, “So Jim Beglin, Brazil? Trick or retreat.” “Trick, definitely,” enthuses Jim, keen to egg his grumpy neighbour’s car. We then learn that the German referee is a dentist by profession, presumably delighted to be awarded this game purely for the case study potential amongst Brazil’s attacking ranks.

Early in the game, the director is clearly amused by Guus Hiddink’s gesticulations, as we cut to him apparently demonstrating David Byrne’s moves from Talking Heads’ ‘Once In A Lifetime’ video. Meanwhile Champs is enthusing about the global Aussie support, and ignoring the comedy rule of three, “Flags are out in all those Aussie staging posts around the world: Sydney, Melbourne, Darwin, Adelaide…Earls Court.”

Brazil are awarded a fairly early free-kick, Roberto Carlos scampering towards it as though he has just run off the edge of a cartoon cliff, before giving it a lazy-eye belt into the crowd. Not long after, Ronaldinho breaks into the box then treads on the ball and falls over. “Pub footballers everywhere rejoice” says Jon.

Mile Sterjovski gives up the chase on one very promising Australian move down the left having played to the whistle. The whistle, unfortunately, having emanated from the crowd. “Where do you start looking,” asks Champion, “there’s 66,000 here and most of them will have whistles.” Just prior to half-time, after Marco Bresciano shoots over the bar, we see a shot of Guus Hiddink throwing down his water bottle in frustration. “Now now, don’t be greedy” says Champion like a weary dinner-lady.

Into the break and we see plenty of shots of happy Australians “Shane Warne is a very proud Australian today looking at those pictures” says Steve as we witness two drunk Aussie fans impersonating rather haphazard kangaroos. Meanwhile El Tel is still unconvinced by Ronaldo “He looks bewildered” and is amused by the whistle in the crowd thing, chuckling “he didn’t look at the linesman, he’s there for that” whilst meaning to mime a flag wave, but instead appearing to simulate a tiny, butler-alerting porcelain bell.

We move to shots of more inflatable kangaroos, and ‘Utility’ Boulting reports again from the fan park, chatting to two increasingly trousered Aussie fans. “Calm down fellas” says Steve like a grumpy granddad, trying to get us quickly to the second half. Ronaldo makes a contribution early on, threading a ball along the edge of the box to Adriano who jinks to the side of Scott Chipperfield then sidefoots through the committed defender’s legs and out of the reach of Mark Schwarzer.

Australia do not suddenly become bystanders upon this goal though. Dida tries to do too much in catching the ball above Viduka’s hexagon head, the ball dropping to recently introduced sub Harry Kewell who blows the big chance with the goal gaping. They go close again in the last ten from a free-kick, moments after Brazil hit the bar, and then again with a lob from the beefy Middlesbrough forward. Just as Brazil were feeling that they was gettin’ nowhere, Fred doubles their lead, Robinho’s shot rebounding off the post and Schwarzer, which allows him to merely stick a foot out to claim the goal. Not altogether a fair reflection on Australia’s contribution to the game, it should be said.

Ruud Gullit has been uncharacteristically over-excited by the Australian effort, saying “We were here and we were like ‘ooh’, ‘ahh’, ‘eerrghh’,” as though hypnotised by a Catherine Wheel. For Steve’s final thought, he decides a watered down Paul Hogan impression is the way to go, musing “you do get the feeling that as regards this new fangled sport of soccah, that it might not be long before Aussie rules”.

Now that, Steve, is a wrong ‘un.

Referee (Markus Merk, Germany): Decisive in all matters aside from wardrobe.

Pee Wee’s Playhouse secret word: “passion, spirit” (Shane), “spin, etc.” (everyone else).

These things I believe: Cafu is the most civilised player in the world, responding to a yellow card with a hand-shake for the ref. Early contender for the Finals Fantasy Golden Bowler Hat -- Brazil always intended to build up to a peak, hence why they only played Swiss league sides and New Zealand in the friendlies, so with this as a slight improvement on the Croatia game, we write them off at our peril -- After largely going toe-to-toe with the world champions, if Australia keep this confidence and strength of will with them, they really should qualify with Brazil.

Product of a union between Jim Rosenthal and a fifty pence piece: Mark Viduka.

Decision time at BBC Sport

2006-06-18T19:34:00.000+01:00

Well, today's Group F results leave the BBC with a tricky decision. Having opted to pick all their last group games in advance (perhaps to avoid the untidy "Team A v Team B or Team C v Team D" descriptions in the Radio Times), they now have to decide whether to stick with their original choice to show the fairly meaningless but neutral-pleasing Brazil v Japan clash, or the now crucial Croatia v Australia match. Obviously enough people have access to digital TV to watch either game if they wish, but will they have the guts to switch the guaranteed ratings of Brazil to BBC Three in order to show a match that matters but probably won't be that keenly watched outside of bars in west London?

Italy v USA, ITV1

2006-06-18T18:23:00.000+01:00

"Group E is now wide open" apparently, and Gabby's here to talk up an Italian team featuring Luca Toni, who despite his lack of action so far has, she reminds us, "scored 30 goals in Serie A and you just don't do that" "No, 31 goals..." Sam Allardyce perhaps unwittingly retorts. After a TalkSport advert which makes as much sense as you'd imagine it does we get to Peter Drury, and he doesn't waste a moment. "What a beautiful blend of friendship and patriotism we have here" is his opening gambit, followed by a tortuous comparison between New York Italians and how "this town, Kaiserslautern, is home to thousands of Americans", and a spot of misty-eyed romanticism over the apparent lack of segregation. Already you wish the red button did more than show news and competitions.

In this "clash of Azzurri stars and stripes" which, oh good god, has been given special Budweiser trails, David Pleat can only make the helpful suggestion that "it's important they make a challenge on Luca Toni every time the ball comes over in the air". You think so, do you? Possibly spurred on by such beverage self-depreciation Drury seemingly still cannot get his head around the idea of Americans playing football, at one point claiming Clint Dempsey is "a freestyle rapper. Whatever that means. They've certainly found a beat in this game." Do you see? And then, "in by Pirlo, 1-0!" "The first Azzuri thrust brings about the first Azzuri goal" Drury logically if uncomfortably states, but before we could take it in, "against Bocanegra - it's an own goal! Zaccardo has sliced one into his own net!" Apparently he "couldn't do this again if he tried a hundred times". A couple of goals down, it was time for everything else to kick off - "McBride's gone down, it was an elbow, and it results in the dismissal of De Rossi! And now they're up against it - they went out of the last World Cup in a shambles." It's still 1-1, Peter, and they couldn't be eliminated tonight in any case. Pleat doesn't seem to realise the actual score either, reckoning it "could be a defining moment now". As Drury forgets the scheme of things and declares "the USA have the chance to utilise what they would call in ice hockey a powerplay" we see McBride's blood splattered face and kit, as apparently "he has a star on his shirt now". Italy are still trying hard but with little success, Drury reckoning Zambrotta "was a yard or two ahead of himself", before the referee gets involved again - "And he's off! And we're all square again." Drury is completely shocked while David tautologically feels he's been "slightly harshly treated". Drury does eventually make a case on the replay for the decision only to receive a lengthy lecture about some sort of on-pitch etiquette from Pleat which eventually causes him to admit "I'm just saying I can see why the referee did it", possibly while gnawing his own arm off, or crying. "You're not bored, I'm pretty sure of that" is his summation at half-time, which is almost completely taken up by a chat with Steven Gerrard.

"But he already has a yellow card! He already has a yellow card! And he's off!" Drury's superb change of surprise expression pace means the second half starts much as the first ended, with an American trudging off. For some reason, perhaps having confused himself enough, just four minutes into the second half with one red card already issued Peter starts listing famous Italian-Americans, apparently/hopefully off the top of his head. Rocky Marciano gets a mention. The US are closing down the game which means more prevarication from Drury of the type that leads him to state "every seat is filled in the stand - there are one or two gaps on the field" as the announcer gives the attendance figure. Then, DaMarcus Beasley smacks the ball in, but McBride is adjudged offside. Drury's reaction, verbatim: "Beasley! Equaliser! No! No! Flag is up! Bad news for you! Bad news for you!" Where to start? Well, with the 'equaliser!' declaration when the onscreen display had already briefly changed to 2-1, for a start. David sees the attack minded option coming as a result of a formation change by necessity, stating "4-2-3, the States are playing". They've snuck another player on? Kasey Keller's save from Del Piero is adjudged "the hand that kept the USA in the World Cup", again even though a defeat wouldn't have necessarily put them out. Clearly the Americans hadn't been patronised in a while, so Drury sets about it with gusto, claiming that "soccer" (deliberate Americanised pronunciation) is a "minority sport in the US...not enough happens". As Italy press Pleat amends his tactical observation to "8-0! Eight men in the last 30 yards", which seems to not include the keeper. "What drama! What a game!" is Drury's breathless finish, claiming it was "extraordinary hostile - no Saturday night feature film will have as many twists and turns, as much blood and thunder", then losing it as he weighs up the "various human stories" and "breathless plots and subplots". Yes, and you provided some of them.

What we've learned: there's a lot of lesser teams getting a lot of gritty draws so far; for a game with three sendings off, all of which could be justified, it wasn't very dirty; Peter Drury and David Pleat are still coming up with the goods.

Czech Republic v Ghana, ITV1

2006-06-18T17:17:00.000+01:00

Gabby is your host for today's Group E double-header, and after a brief trip to Baden-Baden and part 5 of the 'gripping' look back to 1966, we see Rosicky's goals against the USA. Gabby reckons he's a Harry Potter lookalike, apparently. Meanwhile, Ned Boulting is at an American army base in Kaiserslautern, promising to bring us "the US perspective on the Soccerball World Series from the heart of the biggest US military presence outside the States. Behind me is a Stealth bomber, it's just that you can't see it!" This is going to be bad...

Sure enough, back from the break and back to Ned: "Don't give away my location Gabby, for heaven's sake. If you do that I will have to eat myself. This place is so secret that it doesn't appear on the satellite navigation system, and to get into it the people who escorted us in made us meet them at an anonymous fast food joint, and only then could we get in through the perimeter fence." Ned gives us some background info on the place, pointing out such home comforts as a nearby woman wears a billboard displaying a menu of typical American wares. "Chips - that's erm crisps, isn't it? You mean crisps?" chuckles Ned, the Little Englander. Now we're off for a quick pre-arranged vox pop, as Ned rudely wanders inbetween groups of people in order to introduce us to "a couple of likely lads" called Sasha and Olly. Sasha is asked for his opinion on the US performance so far "in a nutshell". "Well, the, the Czech team, erm, the Czech has a strong team and, er, yeah, the US knows if they want to advance they'll have to come back hard against the Czechs, so erm, er, we'll do our best against the Italians, they have a strong team, and yeah, we'll score some goals tonight!" Marvellous ad-libbing, sir! "You know your football, don't you Sasha?" remarks Ned, before setting a couple of questions for our newfound experts. Olly, who clearly wants to be somewhere else, has "no clue" when the World Cup was held in America, nor the term for a player scoring three goals in a game - whilst Sasha eagerly gets two out of two. Finally Ned pulls out his comedy coup-de-grâce by asking Olly to explain the difference between Passive and Active Offside - "in fairness, I think some of the boys in the studio would have a problem with that one." Arf!

Clive Tyldesley, partnered by Jim Beglin today, advises that "some stealthy money has been wagered" on the Czechs winning the World Cup.

"An early chance for Gyan and look at that! Asamoah Gyan gives Ghana the lead inside 75 seconds! Now that makes the group look a little bit different! Wild celebrations - and why not?"
Time for Clive to give us a condensed history of Africa in the World Cup - yes, including Pele's prediction, before chastising latecomers for missing the goal. He then delights as the Plucky Africans produce a couple of thundering challenges: "they like a tackle, the Ghanaians!"

Ghana are awarded a free kick around 30 yards out, which they attempt to roll out wide to an unmarked man, but the referee's still adjusting the wall. "So much for that surprise ploy - we know about that now! Plan B, then...straight into the arms of Cech - I don't think there was a plan B, Jim!" "I agree, 'oh I'll just bump it into the box'" "'Oh ref, that's the only one we rehearsed!'"

A blast from the past as Michael Essien is tackled by Karel Poborsky. "He can still do it, this fella," suggests Beglin. "He's got great experience and he's just very clever on the ball."
Chance for Ghana: "It's crying out to be hit, Stephen Appiah!" Cech watches the ball swerve past the outside of the post. "He wasn't going to disappoint anybody!"

Poborsky tries to thread a ball through for Vratislav Lokvenc but it races through to the keeper. "Koller would have got there - not!" Jim obviously watched Wayne's World recently...

Obnoxious Tyldesley moment alert: Zdenek Grygera charges down the right wing, but is well tackled by Sulley Muntari before he can get the cross in. "Muntari has said in the media in the last week or so that he wants to play for Manchester United. Well so do I! In fact Colchester United would be fine by me! He did have a trial with Manchester United when he was 16, there's been absolutely no link with them since then. He's decided that this is the tournament where he's gonna show Sir Alex Ferguson that he's better than Cristiano Ronaldo, and that fella who plays for England, what's he called?"

Another instalment in the intriguing Poborsky v Essien battle as Karel lets the ball run away from him, then slides to try to retrieve it before it reaches the oncoming Michael. Jim comments on the inevitable foul: "I wondered what Essien was going to do with that one, he was quite kind to Poborsky because Poborsky left himself a little open and we've seen Michael be a little naughty in those situations in the past!" "A little!" chuckles Clive.

"Lots of smiles. Still in the tournament. Leading by a goal to nil." Clive succinctly summarises the story so far. Poborsky swings a cross-shot that trickles just wide of the far post, and moments like Amoah beats the Czech offside trap but fires over.

"Here comes the wave, Jim - put your arms up!" [Momentary pause] "Spoilsport!" "I didn't see you put yours up either, by the way!" "I'm holding the microphone..." "So am I!"

Gyan is through again but hits it along the floor straight at the already-prone Cech. "Ooh, he beat the ground in frustration - he knows what a good chance it was! It was a good save by Cech but I'm not sure he should have been given any chance at all!" Jim agrees that he should have "dinked it" over Cech.

Clive is amused as the Ghanaian keeper runs to the edge of his area to cut out a cross aimed at the Czech's giant striker: "Kingson's come a long way and grabbed that one off Lokvenc's head!" "If you come that far you've got to end up with the ball!" points out an equally entertained Beglin. "If you go any further you're gonna end up in the dressing room!" points out Clive as we see a slow-motion replay of the 6-foot keeper outjumping the 6-foot-5 striker. "It's not exactly a fair fight - it's a super-heavyweight against a welter, but the welter won!"

Essien goes up against Nedved this time, both with feet raised in a failed attempt to get the ball. Clive's not sure who the referee has awarded the foul against, and is even more bemused to see the referee book Essien. Jim thinks it "seems a bit ridiculous" as a replay shows neither player make contact with the other.

"Cech was frozen" summarises Tyldesley as Appiah pulls a shot just wide with the keeper completely beaten. "You could make an argument that Ghana deserve this lead!" is Clive's understatement of the day so far.

"I just don't see that, I'm sorry." That'll be another replay of Essien's booking then. The game is temporarily delayed as Gyan is helped off the pitch for treatment after landing awkwardly. "I'm not sure about the physio holding his hand," announces the machismo Tyldesley. Beglin tries to continue summarising for a few moments before noticing Clive's apparent disgust at the continued image on screen. "You're not happy at that holding-hands business, are you?" "He's let go now - he wanted to come back on with him, obviously!"

During the half-time interval we're shown the goals from Portugal-Iran, followed by a look at that group's table. Gabby is temporarily bewildered by the permutations: "[Portugal] play Mexico next...who should...confirm...perhaps...their passage through to the knockout stages". Then it's back to Ned at the US Army base, who tries to tempt Sam with some of the local snacks: "Johnsonville stadium style brats, that should be your first summer signing - I want to see them at the Reebok next season." He then polls more of the locals for their score predictions, only for his first interviewee to predict an Italian win ("that's not exactly what I expected you to say!"). His second victim is more positive, and when asked to name a single American squad member, vaguely tries to bluff by saying "Brad..." "Brad Friedel?" offers Ned, to which his interviewee enthusiastically agrees. Next to two women sitting on a nearby bench - the first (with a distinct German accent) predicts the host nation to win the World Cup, whilst the second simply says "the better team will win" ("that's a good answer!" replies Ned). Finally Ned wanders over to some men in camouflage: "...this guy for example is actually dressed in a uniform, and he looks like he's a soldier - I'm pretty sure he's not masquerading - are you a soldier, sir?" His interviewee replies in the affirmative, apparently unperturbed by Ned's arm being draped around his shoulder. "Give us a score?" "One nothing, USA!" "That's a good scoreline..."

Nedved has the ball in the net even earlier into the second half than Ghana's goal in the first, but it's offside. "It looked it, I'm inclined to agree with the assistant," concedes Jim generously, even before seeing a replay.

Clive reminds us of the Czechs' impressive performances at Euro 2004, although "they could no more find a way past the Greeks than anyone else could". In the meantime, Lokvenc picks up a needless yellow card for a slide on Shilla, meaning he'll be suspended for the next match and "the Czech Republic are fast running out of forwards here! There's absolutely no way that either Koller or Baros will play against the Italians in the final group game, and now there's no way Lokvenc will either..."

Gyan forces Cech into another good save. "He wasn't ever going to shoot...er, ever going to pass!" stumbles Clive. "They do like a shot too, don't they? Like a tackle, like a shot! They play with a lot of heart and spirit as well as verve, Ghana - it's a very proud performance..." Aah, bless the Plucky Africans!

Jiri Stajner replaces Poborsky ("the first Czech past 100 caps", we're informed). "Stajner who, despite the receding hair, is younger than Poborsky - older by some four years..."

"He's given it his best shot, the old coach," Clive tells us as we see a shot of Karel Bruckner on the Czech bench. "He is very much an international coach..." he adds mysteriously.

Under some good Czech pressure, Ghana opt to lump the ball into the stand, only to be caught out by a quick-witted ball-boy handing another ball over for a quick throw in. Luckily, as many Czech players were surprised by this turn of events as Ghanaians, and Nedved's cross reaches the far touchline harmlessly. "The multiball system's in play," Jim the pinball wizard reminds us.

"Don't want to sound too much like Test Match Special but we're being attacked by a massive bee at the moment, just forgive us. But if you want to send cake, you can!" Surely cake would only entice more bees?

Amoah is brought down by Ujfalusi in the box - penalty! "And in the circumstances surely he's got to go? No sign of the referee taking any further action against the defender - if that's not a clear goalscoring opportunity I don't know what is!" A minute passes and the referee still has taken no action against the Czech, causing frustration for the Ghanaians who seemingly aren't satisfied with just a spot kick. "Amoah who was the victim, I don't think he desperately needs to plead his case - I don't like the card waving...it's just going to be the penalty..." However, the referee has finally made his mind up and pulls out the red card just as Gyan runs out of patience and prematurely smacks the penalty into the net (picking up a yellow card himself in the process). The referee finally restores order and Gyan lines up to retake the penalty: "Oh, back off the post! Cech survives it all - *the Czechs* survive it all! Asamoah Gyan has not only missed the penalty, he's going to miss out on Ghana's last game - it's his second yellow card!"

"And here comes Polak for a reprieved Poland...er, reprieved Czech Republic, sorry! Must get the combatants correct!" Well recovered, Clive.

We see a Ghanaian fan balancing a large pot on his head. "Bet you can't do that Jim, can you? When you bring the wife breakfast in bed on a Sunday morning, you balance it on your head, do you? Try it next time!" "She'll be lucky - breakfast in bed?"

Tyldesley reaches a pitch previously thought impossible as Ghana have yet another shot: "*GYAN!* How many saves is Petr Cech gonna make?"

Time for Clive to practice his South American extended syllables: "It's Appiah, it's Gyan, it's Muntariiiiiiiiiiiiii... Yes! At long, long last Ghana can start to believe they've won the match! Chance after chance after chance, save after save after save, and at last Sulley Muntari makes it Ghana 2 Czech Republic 0!" Clive reminds us of his earlier anecdote of Muntari's wish to play for Man Utd. "Well...?" he asks, meaningfully.

Muntari then picks up his second card of the tournament. "That'll wipe the smile off his face," chastises Tyldesley. Gyan is substituted with five minutes to go. "Gyan's been a trill, absolutely brilliant. He's got to be M.O.M. today," opines Beglin. WTF is he using TLAs for? LOL!

Into the last minute and the showboating Ghanaians are caught offside yet again. "They're having too much fun, you know," warns Clive. "It's not supposed to be fun, it's the World Cup!" The camera switches to a celebrating Ghanaian lady. "You can have fun missus, that's OK! As if I could stop you!"

What we've learned: Clive wishes he could play for Man Utd (actually, I suppose we knew that already); the Czechs really need one of their strikers back to have a chance; and Ned Boulting really needs to get over the fact that Americans don't really know much about football.

Japan v Croatia, ITV1

2006-06-18T16:29:00.000+01:00

Goal of the match: Our survey said er-er.

Shot of the match: Niko Kranjcar's venomous drive off the face of the crossbar following a great turn. He looks quite a player, but just needs to be more involved in games.

Save of the match: Yoshikatsu Kawaguchi's superb stop from Darijo Srna's first half penalty. He was very nearly embarrassed shortly afterwards, though, with a back pass that bobbled bizarrely over his foot and out for a corner.

Miss of the match: It would have gone to Srna (harshly, as his spot-kick was actually pretty decent) had it not been for Atsushi Yanagisawa's awful slice wide with an open goal beckoning in the second half.

Man of the match: Kranjcar showed some lovely touches, but it was probably between Dado Prso (for his clever runs and ability to hold up play), Srna (for his tireless running and dangerous balls into the box) and Josep Simunic (for being an impassable rock at the back for Croatia).

He was playing?!: Japan's strikers Yanagisawa and Naohiro Takahara hardly had a sniff, but most disappointing was Marco Babic, who, aside from one slalom run and shot, was a peripheral figure having shone against Brazil.

Most bizarre moment of the match: For a while it looked as though Japan were putting men on the posts for Srna's penalty. Then I realised the players were just having a drink and timewasting to put him off - and it worked. That bobble was pretty bizarre too.

Player with a chin to rival Hugh Dennis: Josep Simunic.

Player with no relation to Dr Raj Persaud of 'This Morning' fame: Dado Prso.

The Methinks He Doth Protest Too Much Award: Alex, whose incredible gusto in singing the Japanese national anthem suggested someone desperate to demonstrate in a very visible and audible way his dedication to his adopted home country. Meanwhile his teammates barely uttered a word. As the nation that gave us karaoke, they couldn't have been expected to pass up the opportunity to belt out a tune.

The Smartest Coach Award (as awarded by David Pleat): Zlatan Kranjcar, who, with his cream suit, pastel blue tie and slicked hair, looked every bit a primped and preening self-made millionaire.

Who does the bloke next to Zlatan Kranjcar look like?: One of the great debates of our time. I'm inclined to dismiss the comparisons to Dermot Morgan and Tom Conte and put my weight behind Del's suggestion (see the comments here) that he is in fact Serbian war criminal Radovan Karadic.

Face in the crowd: Loads of Japanese fans blowing whistles and tooting horns contrasted with one particular Croatian fan glowering from under his makeshift headgear fashioned out of a scarf.

Stat attack: This result means that Japan have still never won a World Cup game on foreign soil. Which is a less interesting titbit of trivia than the fact that some of the Croatian squad went to see Deep Purple in concert on Friday night.

The David Pleat Award For Idiosyncratic Pronunciation: How ITV didn't see that getting Pleat to co-commentate on a match featuring a player called Fukinishi was a ticking timebomb I don't know. But fair play to him, he's nothing if not unpredictable, and chose to change the third vowel, calling him "Fukinashi".

Learning the lingo: Pleat told us that the Japanese are "spiritful", and Peter Drury invented the concept of the goalkeeper's "semi-punch". Surely it is a punch or it isn't?

Double-entendre Corner: Drury's encouragement that we should "have a fiddle with the red button" raised a childish smirk.

The lowest form of wit: "[Hidetoshi Nakata] has seen two of the most beautiful cities in the world, Florence and Bolton". Drury can expect his postbag to runneth over with angry missives from Lancashire.

You what?!: According to Drury, Kawaguchi was "elastic". Hmm. Pleat excelled himself, referring to the Croatian outfield players as "ten red and white chessboards" and shortly afterwards claiming "I think you can almost smell the fatigue". Even more bizarrely, he described Kawaguchi as "like a cat on hot bricks" when rooted to the spot from a corner - no David, "like a cat on hot bricks" means to be UNABLE to stay still.

Level of interest shown in game at hand: Even by ITV's usual standards, remarkably little. Before the match there was another installment of their series about 1966, this time revolving around the popularity of karate, a panda who was reluctant to mate and Portugal's astounding Eusebio-inspired comeback against South Korea. Ruud Gullit then started talking about the 1974 World Cup. At half time there was the inevitable report from the England camp. And even the commentary team didn't seem to care, Drury saying "We're essentially your warm-up act" before mentioning their coverage of the Brazil game and the appearance in the studio of Shane Warne.

What we learned: Croatia have a very solid defence and some lively forwards but need to start hitting the net; Japan are spiritful and sprightly but have nothing in the way of a cutting edge and will soon be on the plane home; the only teams ITV care about are England and Brazil.

Fine ones to talk, us, we know, but...

2006-06-18T01:34:00.000+01:00

Why do the media never 'get' the crux of arguments about TV coverage? Take special note of the attempt to criticise BBC Sport because some of its pundits have accents. We don't recall anyone moaning about Gordon Strachan's Scottishness for the whole season he was on MOTD2. We find it harder to understand Alan Shearer most of the time.

Portugal v Iran, BBC1

2006-06-18T01:32:00.000+01:00

So how to introduce Luiz Felipe Scolari? Apparently, "he's got all the moves". As have half the coaches in the tournament, Gary. Your team is Leonardo, Dixon and Wright in what appear to be almost matching pinstripe shirts, Wright with an on the face of it unlikely tie added. Leonardo, resembling Gerard Depardieu playing the latter-day lead in The Lee Sharpe Story, is still receiving a unique approach, Gary asking him ungrammatically "how do you say in Portuguese Big Phil?" At least he found it funny, and Gary got once again to emphasise the words Big Phil where no emphasis was surely needed. Nobody gives Iran much of a chance against the team Ian Wright calls "the European Brazil".

Guy Mowbray's our man noting that the stadium roof is closed, something which doesn't seem to have had that much of an effect in the end. And a big welcome back, please, for The Official Iranian Big Framed Square Of Carpet, which this time the Portuguese mascot has to hold during the handshakes, clearly baffled by the responsibility thrust upon him. Mick McCarthy joins Guy as ever, noting "I have pals who are Portuguese and they're worried about this game". A worldly man, Mick. His gameplan would be to "catch one of the Iranian defenders out of position, do it brighter" while Guy reports on "a new English word...Decodependence". Eh? It's not yet looking great for them, Guy almost chortling "Portugal fans must have looked at the draw and thought it was Christmas" for want of much else to talk about until Luis Figo gets kicked in the face, the replay greeted with Mick exclaiming "ooh yes" rather too vigorously. "We might just hear the Portugal dressing room from here when Big Phil uses his big voice" Guy remarks, while Mick delivers a magnificent backhanded compliment when he praises Iran and then tacks "they know how to fall over" onto the end.

"Not exactly thrill a minute, is it?" Gary underplays before the first sign of the summer that the broadcasters are just about out of feature ideas as they voxpops Berliners on the divided past. Back at the game, and not a moment too soon, Mick's bemoaning the way refs "flick the card in some grand manner" while Guy runs off Iran's past: "they won 7-0 against Laos. My geography doesn't extend as far as Laos. I'm not sure I'm even pronouncing it properly". There's a tourist board with work to do. Mick now finds fault with Iran's keeper, commenting on one save "he's gone down in stages, like a roll of lino to get this", which makes me wonder about his DIY arrangements. Something had to give, and eventually "Figo's found Deco...and Deco has scored a screamer", Mowbray changing up from casual to excitable at a moment's notice. Guy then has to interrupt his own running through the radio coverage spiel to declare "here's a chance for Iran, and what a chance it is - and it's been put wide". Mick's still not impressed, reckoning "I don't see a World Cup winning side out there today", but there's definitely one going through when "Figo goes down, referee says penalty!" "Do I lose my nickname now?" Mowbray rhetorically asked, chided by Mick about previously not seeing goals in his games as illustration, before the inevitable Scolari cutaway. "He might sometimes come across as a dour character - there's a change". Guy's up for this now, announcing "now we'll see the trickery" just as Ronaldo is tackled. He doesn't even seem to notice the final whistle for a small while.

In contrast to, well, how the entire rest of the tournament has been received Lee reckons "the players seemed to be scared" but everyone agrees a Portuguese win was deserved, especially with the opening goal that "came just a few minutes after you were saying how overrated Deco is", as Gary put it to to Ian. Wright then bafflingly describes Golmohammadi as having "had a grumpy kind of day, and he's got a Captain Hook kind of face". Oh, well, then. Leonardo ascribes Scolari's passion to his being from the "south of Brazil", everyone obligingly pissing themselves at footage of him putting his hand to his head, although at least Wright wasn't allowed to go on one of his lengthy diatribes about showing passion. Gary, however, cites the lack of Porto players in his national side at one point to how he didn't like their coach, adding "imagine that, the coach of the national team and the manager of a top club side falling out. It'd never happen at home." It goes down so badly he nearly has to spell it out for us, which would at least have meant no time for a reiteration of the previous day's Rooney statement (Lee: "kept us in work for a couple of weeks, didn't it?") or the cut to to the street entertainments outside and the film of Leonardo doing kickups. "A goal to Decorate any game" is his particularly weak outro.

What we've learned: like England Portugal have the skills in abundance but can't seem to show them properly; Iran lack experience, as they say, to really make an impact; that carpet warehouse and framing service must be anticipating a rush

Adwatch

2006-06-17T19:48:00.000+01:00

Puma

It must be a bugger being Puma. Nike and Adidas have snaffled up all the really top names in world football, meaning they're left with the B-list dregs. (Having the world's most expensive goalkeeper, Gianluigi Buffon, onboard is one thing, but Jermaine Jenas?! Clutching at straws there, lads...)

So, they wonder, how to compensate? By signing up arguably the greatest player the world has ever known.

And what do they do with Pele?

Have him utter the nonsensical phrase "Wilkommen zum Fussball" before sitting back and grinning in smug contentment like a toddler in toilet training perched on the potty and pleased with his efforts at bowel control.

How the mighty have fallen - or, rather, been persuaded to fall by the lure of lucre.

Netherlands v Ivory Coast, ITV1

2006-06-17T17:28:00.000+01:00

Welcome to week two in ITVland, everybody! Jim Rosenthal is our host for the first of a double-header, and since he's already promising that "we're all going to have a quick stretch after the final whistle" it sounds like he'll be back later as well for some more boarded-up-window-to-hide-an-empty-stadium action. Perhaps sore that the biggest thrashing of the tournament so far has just unfolded on the other side, Jim is keen to gloss over the earlier game as quickly as possible, with the merest of discussions of Cambiasso's wonder goal.

"Ruud! She's come to see you, that one!" points out Jim as a montage of fans arriving at the ground ends with a Dutch woman kissing the camera. "Sometimes there's a thin line between carnival and going for the game," is Gullit's qualified compliment to the masses of Dutch support inside the stadium, although the orange shirt he's wearing himself suggests he'd happily be out in the carnival if not under ITV's employ.

Today's England report focuses on newly-discovered footage of Peter Crouch pulling Brent Sancho's hair. "What did you make of it?" asks Jim. "I didn't see it!" quips Stuart Pearce. "I think it was naive of the defender - he had to just go down, then it would have been a foul," notes Ruud - although quite how you're meant to drop to the floor when somebody is holding your hair and jumping up is an interesting thought. The Ivoirian fans are supposedly hoping for an "elephant charge", notes Jim before handing over to Clive Tyldesley, who advises that "you may want to adjust the colour and brightness on your set before you settle down, it's very, very orange out here!" Clive fails his vexillology test, telling us that "orange doesn't feature in the flag of Ivory Coast" just after the picture switches from a distinctly green, white and orange Ivoirian flag to the red, white and blue of the Netherlands.

Clive notes to Gareth Southgate that Ivoirian coach Henri Michel left the players to get on with their own pre-match team talk, before making reference to Pele's infamous prediction of an African winner of the World Cup. Next he's complaining about the groups: "It was all Heidi Klum's fault - the German supermodel made the World Cup draw in December and put probably the best of the African qualifiers in the same group as two of the favourites!"

"We're in the Gottlieb-Daimler Stadion in Stuttgart," observes Clive at kick-off, "where Fatima Whitbread broke a world record for Britain some 13 years ago!" Well, it was actually 20 years ago Clive, but what kind of pedant would pick you up on that level of minutiae?

"The word from the Dutch camp is that the spirit has never been better!" notes Clive, "No Davids, no Seedorf, no Kluivert, nowhere near the camp!" Van Basten is praised for his record in charge during the qualifying campaign, although Clive delights in pointing out "how ironic that one of the great forwards - truly great forwards of the modern game - has overseen a team which has kept 15 clean sheets in its last 22 internationals and has not conceded a goal in competitive international football since October 2004!" As irony goes, that's right up there with rain on your wedding day.

A quick overview of Van Basten's opposing coach: "There have only been 2 World Cups without Henri Michel in the last 20 years - he's coached France, Cameroon, Morocco, and now Ivory Coast at the finals. You can't stage a tournament without him - not allowed! He's like one of those Grand National jockeys who always seem to get a good ride on the eve of the race!" "Not the ones I back then!" chips in Gareth.

Ivory Coast have a penalty shout turned down after Eboue goes to ground with Van Bronckhorst's arm wrapped round him. "Well there's an irony!" notes Clive. "Remember the Champions League final? Arsenal vs Barcelona again then, and Eboue went down inside the box this time. He it was who won the free kick from which Sol Campbell scored for Arsenal on the day." Clive's sense of universal justice seems satisfied by the non-decision today.

Halfway through the half, and Holland have a free-kick just outside the box after Van Persie is brought down. Tyldesley notes that the Tizie is having to peer through his wall to see: "he's not a particularly tall goalkeeper but he's got some massive men in front of him. I'm not sure that's a great combination really..."Two Dutch players stand over the ball: "Robben and Van Persie having a conversation - nice to know they're on speaking terms!" Van Persie eventually takes the kick, and smashes it into the net past the unsighted Tizie. "If the first game belonged to Robben, the first half of the second game belongs to Robin Van Persie!"Slow-motion replays allow Clive to take credit for pointing out Tizie's bad positioning: "It's not great goalkeeping in truth, is it? Rather like a rather hesitant tail-ender, he was simply beaten for pace!"
Clive briefly offers an olive branch to the beleaguered Tizie by begrudgingly pointing out that "the slow-motion didn't do him any favours," before reminding us yet again that "I said it before the free kick, it was almost comical - there must be two guys of 6'3" in the wall and the goalkeeper, I don't think he is 6 feet - he just couldn't see over his own men!"

"Ha ha!" comments Clive as Van Persie showboats a backheeled pass to a team mate. "Anything you can do, Arjen!" "He might find he gets a rap on his ankles in a minute," warns Southgate. "What - from Robben?" chuckles Tyldesley.

"There's no flag here - it's Ruud Van Nistelrooy, and Holland are starting to motor! The message goes out to Argentina, 'you can score freely, so can we!'" Clive recites Van Nistelrooy's recent history at Old Trafford, pointing out that "if he has a great World Cup, the politics of the situation may just change a little!"

Zokora hits the crossbar with Ivory Coast's first meaningful attack, before Robben breaks down the other end and tumbles over in the area. However, the ref's unimpressed and reaches for the yellow card, gaining Gareth's approval. "I think he's got it spot on - I think he could have drawn a penalty here but I think he makes too much of it!" "The referees have been told to be absolutely certain before they issue yellow cards for diving," Clive tells us. "It is a bit of a personality call - there is contact, brushing contact - he could have stayed up, couldn't he?" Gareth's still suggesting he could have blagged a penalty if only his acting was better: "I just think it's the manner in which he goes down which causes him to be booked... It's a bit too theatrical!"

Tyldesley gives us a brief summary of the Ivory Coast's recent political turmoil, and no sooner has he pointed out that footballing success has brought the nation together than Bakari Kone tears through the supposedly impenetrable Dutch defence to pull one back. "It's a wonderful goal! Truly outstanding strike - all his own work! A tiny man who accelerated away and rocketed the first goal past Edwin van der Sar that he has conceded in going on for 17 hours of competitive international football!"

"We've seen some good goals today, haven't we? We might have a goal of the day competition in tonight's show!" notes Clive, before Drogba leaves his foot in as Van der Sar rushes out to grab the ball from him. Gareth attempts a defence: "He does catch him, but it's a ball he's entitled to go for. I know the goalkeeper's union won't agree with me!" The referee doesn't agree either and Drogba picks up his second yellow card, meaning he will miss the final group game.

Drogba has an immediate chance for redemption as the Ivory Coast quickly break away following a Dutch corner. Drogba intercepts a loose pass and storms upfield with only Van Bronckhorst back and Aroune Kone in support. Sadly for Drogba, his attempted square pass to Kone is poor and is easily blocked by Van Bronckhorst. "Nearly two years without conceding a goal, and they nearly lost two in five minutes!"

Drogba's captaincy skills are discussed as we approach half time, with Clive particularly enamoured by Didier leading his players through the warm up in the coach's absence. "Sometimes you forget how when players play in the Premiership, what huge figures they are in their own country," points out Gareth. In the midst of this, Arouna Kone blasts a shot over the bar. "The Dutch got in a muddle there in defence," says Southgate, "'yours' - 'mine' - 'yours' - 'mine'...no..."

At half time, Kone's goal reminds Jim of Michael Owen's against Argentina in 1998, causing Jay-Jay Okocha to hope for the same result today as then. A 2-2 draw is the limit of your ambitions, Jay-Jay? Pearce thinks Drogba's booking is harsh, Gullit thinks it was justified, but Jay-Jay Okocha refuses to cast the deciding vote and sits on the fence remarkably well.

"How have I caught a cold in this weather?" protests Tyldesley at the start of the second half, perhaps showing signs of fever a few moments later: "It's one of these comments that wise co-commentators make in a moment like this Gareth, but the next goal in this game could be all-important. I'll make it for you! It's a bit of a truism really, statement of the obvious isn't it - 2-2 or 3-1, but at the moment you wouldn't know who was going to score it!"

Meite aims a shot that Van der Sar saves comfortably, giving Clive the opportunity to be mischievous. "The big number 12 who's just had the shot was apparently - so I learned in my research - the subject of a bid from Middlesbrough Football Club quite recently. True or false?" "How recently?" "How long have you had the job? No I think it was probably before your time!"Clive then reveals that the player claimed to have provisionally agreed terms with Bolton in January before pulling out as the club wanted him to miss the African Nations Cup. "That doesn't sound like Sam at all!"
"There are a lot of rumours flying around at the moment," notes Clive as the conversation grows to a more general transfer discussion. "How many agents have called you today?" "Phwoah, dear - I never realised that my number had been posted on the ITV website!" Good corporate reference there, Gareth, you'll go far.

Clive savours in reciting the name Gilles Yapi Yapo, who comes off the Ivoirian bench in the 61st minute. He then tells us that Van Basten revealed yesterday that the 1988 Dutch squad were taken to see Whitney Houston prior to that year's European Championship final (in which Van Basten scored "maybe my favourite international goal" reveals Clive). Tyldesley suggests that van Basten might try to do something this year in the hope of repeating that success. "Pearcey will probably find him a concert," suggests Southgate. "Might not be to his taste, but he'll find him one!" "They'll come out with burst eardrums!" predicts Clive.

Tyldesley plugs the Ask England feature on the ITV website, before Boka brings down Van Persie who was clean through. He only picks up a yellow card however, causing Clive to play Devil's advocate: "He's just a bit wide, and strictly speaking he is running away from goal, but I think morally, ethically he is denying him an opportunity - whether it's a *clear* goalscoring opportunity or not, maybe the referee has erred on the side of caution and common sense there." "Woe betide we bring morals and ethics into football, eh Clive?" "That would never do!"

One of Clive's apparent personal bugbears is raised as Van Bronckhorst stays down after being barged not only off the ball but off the pitch. "There's no good reason here why Ivory Coast need stop... Zokora very very sportingly is going to play the ball...and the fourth official is waving him to play on!" Much consternation follows as Gareth reminds us of a similar incident during France v Switzerland.

Ivory Coast really press for an equaliser in the last 15 minutes, with one of their best chances coming from a corner where Drogba heads the ball across goal beyond Van der Sar but into the awaiting chest of Van Persie who's standing on the far post.

In the last few minutes, Dindane receives the ball on the right wing but Ooijer's enthusiastic slide tackle wins the ball and almost takes out the cameraman in the process. "Hey, take it easy!" is the audible warning from the nearby linesman.

After about three "last throws of the dice" during which Southgate repeatedly criticises Ivoirian short corners instead of hoofs into the box, the final free kick is indeed hoofed up and over the bar, and it's all over. Ivory Coast are the best team to be eliminated from this World Cup in Jim's opinion, as he rushes through the post-match niceties before advising us to come back in half an hour to watch "seeded Mexico", as if anyone's fooled by FIFA rankings and seedings any more.

What we've learned: The Van Persie-Robben one-upmanship contest could be one of the most interesting sub-plots of this tournament; Holland's "rock solid" defence could well be ripped apart by a strong attack (such as, for example, Argentina); and if Ivory Coast had a half-decent keeper and an easier group they could have easily made it to the Quarter-Finals.

Mexico v Angola, ITV1

2006-06-17T14:08:00.000+01:00

Jim Rosenthal is in charge and starts with the suggestion we're going to get a look back at this extraordinary day so far in his opening. So we're going to get cogent analysis after the montage, yes? No, instead Andy and Stuart talk at length about England. Shouldn't they have covered this by now, especially in this detail? Jim finds particular amusement in how "the security person was brave enough to take away Pearce's deoderant", and while he wants to work the Hard Pearcey angle Stuart's going to run the comedy route of having his deoderant taken away, claiming "they ground me down!" and later "I'm chucking up!" before Jim closes the debate with a deeply disturbing assurance that "you're looking good and very fragrant tonight". "We will be in Hanover in plenty of time" he assures us, curiously, as we get to see a man with comedy eyes on his knuckles. Oddly, the Argentina-Serbia & Montenegro highlights were assigned to Peter Brackley, a man who seems to get one ITV job a year. Jim is approving of Ivory Coast, claiming "there is a way to go home and that's the way to do it" in a manner that almost makes sense before Andy tells us "you did a bit of detective work, James". Apparently Kone's goal is "near enough identical" to Michael Owen's against Argentina, in that he cut across the box and fired in. The night's real obsession is Mexican coach Ricardo La Volpe and his lighting up on the touchline, Pearce, by now well into comedy mode, ruling out following suit as "it'd be up my nose and everything" before, as the 'debate' dragged on, forcibly climaxing it with "I'm feeling drawn towards Woodbines as we speak".

Having called Angola "World Cup newcomers" twice in his opening link, just in case we'd forgotten, Jim's Madonna-esque mike stops working during the link into the game itself, coming back just in time for his breezy if not formal "let's say welcome to Jon!" Jon himself continues the commentators' point of mentioning before every game that no African country has yet won a game but claims Angola have more reason to succeed than most as "during the last World Cup they were busy celebrating the ceasefire". "A competition was held in Mexico in the 1940s to create a new national anthem and here's the winning entry" he patiently notes before it's played. Cheers. "On the coolest evening of the World Cup so far there are plenty of sombreros around the stadium" he pointlessly adds before starting on his merry way with the perceived idiosyncracies of La Volpe, noting with appropriate pauses and timing that "he looks, and acts, and sounds... like a pirate". Regular partner Jim Beglin is almost begrudging, pointing out "the smaller nations have been put in their place" and Mexico are merely "a nice outfit". The whole half seems to be made up of stoppages and inaccurate free kicks, which gives Champion time to consider a South African nicknamed "Old John" and get back to the crux of La Volpe's appeal - "What do you make of his tie, Jim?" "I couldn't quite get a good enough look at it, Jon..." Champion's other favourite is the character of Angolan striker Fabrice Akwa, as after a shot from halfway he notes "his ego is such that he'd quite like to be compared to Pele", and somehow proof of this is that he "drives a canary yellow Hummer".

"We saw the coach writing in his diary, and here's something to put in yours if it's not there already..." might be the most shameless piece of England trailing you'll ever see but at least it briefly stops Champion from going on about La Volpe ("maybe we'll see an explosion from their coach before too long" - nope) or the two "unemployed" Angolans. We go straight to Gabriel and Gerrard at half time, inevitably, before Rosenthal takes one look at the shot of two women and mentions there's "plenty of distractions - we'll hope for some tasty action on the pitch". Back at the game Jon takes delight in Beglin's room having "Mexicans on one side, cardboard walls and Angolans on the other side", but he can't keep his mind off the side of the pitch for too long - "there he is, Captain Blackbeard. If it carries on like this he'll be more like Captain Pugwash." Jon is rightly impressed with Angola's effort, although perhaps in a live commentary context "(Mexican keeper) Sanchez is 36, but average life expectancy in Angola is 38" is not the right way to express it, no more than "anguish for Mexico - if you've recovered from the anguish of England yesterday..." is an acceptable way to link to a trail. Angola's "fairly Herculean defensive effort" proves to Jim that "there are no more Zaires or El Salvadors or Honduras in World Cups these days", on the very day a team lost 6-0. Apparently the key to hanging on is "they have to treat the ball as a friend" - shades of Goleo there - while Jon notes how "the John Cleese of the touchline takes a deep breath and tries to rein in more emotion". Eh? Angola creep closer - "imagine that, Angola versus the might of Argentina!" - while Jon panics at everything - "here comes the keeper, what's he doing? That looked like handball as well". But it's good enough...

Rather unsportingly, Jim declares "it's not quite the shock we thought we might have got tonight", as if a point is no reason for anyone to look up, despite the fact his colleague then comments "Mexico are being booed off, Angola are being cheered to the very rafters". Back in the studio Stuart is impressed, if not syntax friendly, enough to comment "if you wrote a book that said there was a goalkeeper going to the biggest competition in the world who hadn't played a game this season you'd say it was too far-fetched". No, imagine if England had etc. So, how will Rosenthal finish a day that featured one of the great World Cup attacking performances and a surprise result? "Whatever you do, don't write off the Dutch". I mean, really.

What we've learned: this day will take a lot of topping; Angola aren't proving any pushovers and at least nobody's referred to them "making friends" yet; Mexico are blowing horribly hot and cold; La Volpe, with lots of actions and attention drawn to himself but not much else, is nobody so much as the Mexican Barry Fry