About This World Cup Thingy...

You'd think that an overzealous soccer fanatic like me would be providing the up to par minute-by-minute update via this blog; furiously typing out the play-by-play happenings going around Germany at the moment. But nope, not this time. Doesn't work that way.

Let's just say I was plain lazy. And it's not as if I watched every single match on the telly even though I had pursuaded Dad to purchase the World Cup channel -a footie fan's ultimate guide to the World Cup & all its exclusive coverage including interviews, the teams' strategies & tactics. Infinitely a footie fan's idea of football paradise.

It's been a little more that a week -11 days, actually- since the game of the world kicked off in Munich, Germany. What proved to be an opening cracking match showed that it is was only just the beginning. 32 countries broken up into 8 groups from A to H, with Group C being dubbed the 'Group of Death' promised to be one of the most exciting events in sports history. With greenhorn groups entering the finals for the very first time, it was apparent to expect the unexpected.

Ostensibly, I could go on & on about this frenzy of a sport where 22 grown men chase their hearts out after one odd ball in efforts of obtaining glory of the highest level for the pride of their respective nations. But I'll just break down my verdicts on the matches I've seen so far. Not many, I can assure you...

So, here's the lowdown on Round One of the group stages.

Group A (Opening Match): Germany 4 Costa Rica 2
Verdict: Quite the kicker.

Since it was the first match of the tournament, I shall elaborate more on it than the others. For an opening match, this one sure set the standards of how this year's World Cup was going to be. From the word go, the Germans showed their superiority with a Teamgeist against the South Americans. An outside shot from German defender Phillip Lahm in the first few minutes and later a brace by Werder Bremen's Miroslav Klose followed by Torsten Frings' cracker of a converted freekick was enough to make it to the headlines. Although the Costa Ricans hit back with two goals, it wasn't enough to stop the Germans from that fancy rampage.

Clearly, the Germans were no ordinary Bavarian creampuffs.

Gone were the days of total defence and in its place, a beast unleashing its hunger. Even without high profile midfielder Michael Ballack -out with a calf injury- the team managed themselves well albeit a somewhat not-so-solid defence. Man of the match, Miroslav Klose was a striker whom I'd remembered from World Cup '02 during my secondary school days. And it was during that time that I remember Nini from the Old Gang distinctively singling him out. Well, the fact was that all of us had some soccer player or another to go gaga over so this wasn't an exception. Mine was Turkey's Ilhan Mansiz & of course, David 'The Squeaky Voice' Beckham. And Ballack with the cut above his eye.

This year's tournament was slightly different for me. Because I so-called celebrated it with the other GB gals, Blome & Penese via phone conference. Since only the opening game was televised on Channel 5 & the two girls neglected to have the privillege of acquiring the World Cup channel, I figured we might as well make the best out of it.

Obviously, Penese & I rooted for Germany while Blome opted for Costa Rica. Which prompted the both of us to burst out in peals of laughter. See, if she had chosen Ecuador to support, we would have taken her more seriously. Because Ecuador won both their opening match as well as their subsequent match in which they -sadly- played against Costa Rica. Odd, but hey, whatever makes ya happy, man!! Anywayz, Penese & I were actually jeering everytime the cameras zoomed towards Michael Ballack's face while ironically supporting his German team.

Seriously, we didn't understand the need for exclusive coverage of Ballack when he wasn't even a benchwarmer; just a mere injured spectator in the dugout sitting next to an unused sub, Roberth Huth. So anywayz, we commented on this shorty defender whom later went on to score Germany's first goal & that was when we finally knew his name. But after that, we still went on calling him Shorty Lahm. There was also a Shorty Schneider, who wore the captain's armband in place of the injured Ballack.

And then, I set my eyes on this dishy-yet-not-really-useful right back whose name required me to strain my eyes. When I belatedly read his name, I announced it to the girls delightedly.

"Arhh, see. This one quite cute. Uhh...whassat -what's his name?? Fried...Rich?? Fried-rich!!"

It ultimately prompted Blome & Penese to start cackling & questioning my pronounciation skills whether or not that was how it should be pronounced. Well, duhh, how did I know. Belatedly, I faintly caught the commentator saying it & indeed, it wasn't the fried I had initially thought. So, the real version of it?? Fred-rech. Or Fred-rick. Like saying the name Frederick fast. Only with a German accent.

Sorry lahh, my bad.

Anywayz, Blome casted her eye on this Costa Rican player who's name we also couldn't catch due to the illegible font plastered across the player's back. So, we kinda spent half the time figuring out if he was wearing jersey number 4 or number 5 as well as frantically trying to catch a glimpse of the back of his shirt, because like it or not, it wasn't exactly like as if the cameras were showing maximum coverage of the guy. We half made out what his name supposedly was & one of us -Penese, I pressume...or maybe it was me- came up with Yamaha.

And we were all like, what!!?? Where did you think he was from, Japan?? And then at a closer & much slower look, it became Umaha. It was only after the match was concluded that it occurred for me to actully go online & have it checked out on Soccernet. Huh, whaddya know. We ALL got his name wrong. It wasn't Umaha & it definitely wasn't Yamaha. It was Umana. Michael Umana, to be exact.

Blome decided there & then to christen the stuffed teddy bear Punani bought for her from London -complete in a Royal British Guard uniform plus that long black hat- Michael Umana. Or rather, Michael U.

*scratches head* Ooookaaay.

Group B: England 1 Paraguay 0
Verdict: One word. Pathetic.

I didn't catch this one, but I heard the news at halftime that it was 1-0 to England & the goal was scored by the opposition. In other words, it was an own goal by an unfortunate Paraguayan who deflected David Beckham's freekick. So, I told myself not to bother watching a lousy match that would only resort me to swearing openly at those good-only-for-clubs-but-not-country players & kicking out in frustration at my sofa.

For those of you who had the misfortune of watching the match, I only offer you my condolences for the time wasted. What, did you really think England would shine on their opening match?? The only thing I can say is that, it took Eriksson THAT long to replace the jaded Michael Owen for Owen Hargreaves?? Mehh...

Group C: Netherlands 1 Serbia & Montenegro 0
Verdict: For God's sake, Robben, pass the bloody ball!!

I caught the replay of Arjen Robben's almost single-handed goal just as I heard my next door neighbor shout in jubilation. And cursed myself for not watching him score it live. Why, why, WHY did they have to show X-Men 2 on the same day Holland played their first match??

And why, why, WHY did Jean Grey had to commit suicide at Alkali Lake the moment when Arjen Robben was hogging all the limelight in Leipzig?? We were right in the middle of the bloody scene when Robben literally robbed Serbia & Montenegro of any possibility of a draw, much less a win. And it was a nice goal, no less.

A very cleverly-timed flick-on by Arsenal's Robin Van Persie sent Robben running on his way towards goal, beating the offside trap & had only the goalie to beat.

Alas, my horse did not score on his opening game & was promptly taken off by Holland's hunky coach, Marco Van Basten.

By the way, if you didn't already know. It's summer now & everywhere in Germany, the temperatures are sky-high with little or no clouds. But I have to wonder, was 25 Degrees Celcius that bad of a heatwave?? So, what of our little sunny island, Singapore, where it shines perpetually every freakin' day??

I realized belatedly of course, that unlike Singapore, Germany wasn't surrounded by huge bodies of water; or at least ONE huge body of water. Sure, they've lakes aplenty. But, I was speaking in terms of oceanic bodies. And furthermore, during summer in some or most parts of Europe, the sun doesn't set until 9.30pm or later. Do correct me if I'm wrong for some countries but as far as I've read, for Germany, that is the case.

Is it any wonder why the English players complain about the lack of water provided for them??

Interesting, the things a blazing temperature will do to a human. Dishy coach Marco & his equally yummy-but-not-as-yummy-as-him assistant coach were spotted sponging themselves repeatedly as the match went on. Well, to any regular watcher, it might come off as nothing. Unless of course, you're gay or just plain kinky. Especially if you watch it a la slo-mo.

Don't get me wrong, Van Basten is old enough to be my Dad -and wouldn't it be just grand to have a handsome Dutch ex-player who brought his country to glory in 1988 during the Euro Cup as a father??- but, man!! That few seconds of sponging was enough to make it look like a promising porn advertisement. I'm serious!!

Picture two men -clothes still on, of course; whaddya think!?!- in the hot sweltering heat passing around Spongebob Squarepants between them & swiping themselves as cool as you may that one would think they were preparing for Man Hunt's Swimsuit category. Phwoar!!

Now, one niggling thing that overshadowed the game was actually Arjen Robben, himself. Yes, the goalscorer of the game was also what I'd consider something of a pest to be dealt with. Even his team mate, Van Persie, said so. Robben thinks that between him & the Teamgeist, he can win the match all by himself & thus, oftentimes goes for individual glory instead of passing the ball around. Sorry to say, Robben, the World Cup isn't like The Late Night Show With One-Man Robben. And yet, reports point to the direction that the Dutch rely solely on Robben too much.

Well, how is one not to rely on Robben when Robben behaves as though he slathered a whole tube of Super Glue onto the ball to get it to stick on his cleats. And it wasn't as if some of the players were up to par with their performances. My horse was one good example -the poor equine- while Giovanni Van Bronckhorst, the usually robustly-solid Barcelona defender looked outrightly unsure of himself. And don't get me started on Mark Van Bommel. That guy is just utter rubbish.

Group E: Czech Republic 3 USA 0
Verdict: Went to sleep at halft-time.

Seriously, why did I even bother?? By the end of the first 45 minutes, the USA were already trounced upon by the Czechs by 2 goals to nil. A Jan Koller header & a brace from newly bought Arsenal midfielder, Tomas Rosicky, ensured that there was no chance at all for team USA to bounce back. Especially with that blonde mop-of-a-guy Energizer bunny, Pavel Nedved, manning the midfield. The Americans, who garnered much support for their efforts in the last WC stood no chance against even an aging team such as the Czechs.

For the record, NONE of the players from team USA are good-looking, I can assure you that. Okay, maybe Brian McBride would look a tad better if his eyes were slightly bigger & a little more even spaced out. Other than that, you'll be surprised to see that the players don't look American at all.

And as you peeps already know; these Americans regard themselves highly by specializing in just about everything & anything under the sun. Technology, medical cures; you name it, they've got it. And of course, basketball, American football, baseball & heck, even hockey & swimming. They'd probably be world champions in table tennis if only the Chinese hadn't beaten them to it first.

But well, even a perfectionist has it's flaws. Come on, there's gotta be at least SOMETHING the Americans aren't skilled at. And right now, you're looking at it.

Group G: France 0 Switzerland 0
Verdict: Were these people seriously the ones who won the 1998 World Cup??

France, for God's sake!! Did someone place a curse on you people, or something?? No, I am not a fan of the French team but do you think I am the only one who is baffled by their unconvincing displays of late?? The only French Fry I tolerate is David Trezeguet -Penese's ultimate all-time favorite footie player- because seriously, I find him an even better player than the famed Thierry Henry. His scoring record is impeccable, for club as well as country. But did coach Raymond Domenach field him as part of France's starting eleven??

Noooooo.

He opted for a 4-2-3-1 approach with Henry as the lone striker, leaving Trezeguet to warm the bench & look on in agony as France missed countless of chances against a not-so-experienced Swiss team. And like their reknowned homeland banks, the Swiss defence kept themselves locked like a top-security safe & prevented the France from any attacking notions they held whatsoever. It was either the Swiss were solid at the back or that France was underperforming. Either way, both sides were held at bay with a goalless draw at the end.

But, you know, the French are an arrogant bunch; never one to admit whatever faults they were guilty of. And during a post-match interview, it was no different. Thierry Henry blamed the grass on the pitch, lamenting why it had been watered down 6 hours before the match & not just before, making it hard for the ball to be passed around. And then he blamed the referee for brandishing out one too many yellow cards.

I swear, my eyes were at half-mast while watching that match. Because the only time I was fully awake was when Zinedine Zidane were exchanging words with defenders William Gallas & Lillian Thuram, gesturing in anger & frustration -something the French are pretty good at, it may seem.

So when a match rocks you to sleep like one of those lullabies your mother used to sing to you as a child & only to be woken up when an argument breaks out, you know it's an omen.

Group H: Spain 4 Ukraine 0
Verdict: Who knew the perennial dark horses could cause such an uproar??

Well, well, well. Whaddya know?? This game was ranked the highest-scoring match, usurping Germany's opening match against Costa Rica. Two goals in the first half by my other honey, Xabi Alonso & Valencia's top-scorer David Villa made way for yet another two goals in the second. The latter scored the third while Fernando Torres sealed Spain's victory with a smasher.

Ohh and just something of note, since, you know, my Alonso scored his very first international goal. This is pretty interesting because when Xabi scored that header, he didn't have time to celebrate because he was literally robbed of that celebration. Yes, robbed!! Know why??

'Cuz his buddy Luis thought HE was the one who scored the goal & instantly went beserk; doing the aeroplane man thingy & jumping front first onto his equally short midfielder team mate, Xavi Hernandez. Even the commentator made the mistake of announcing that Luis Garcia had scored the goal instead of Xabi Alonso. Like, okaaaaay...my poor docile sheep!!

Oh well, Spain won the match, anywayz...

All through the match, this young gun Fernando Terror indeed terrorized the Ukrainian defence with his sudden bursts of speed as he zipped around for goal. He was a defender's 90 minutes worth of nightmare & literally ran rings around them. Although he did engage in a dirty little concoction by going down too easily inside the penalty area.

In other words, he submitted himself to the lowest form of football dirties called diving. Of course, his opponent was then sent off & Spain were given a penalty which David Villa converted.

Now, where was the world-class, prolific striker, Andriy Shevchenko, you ask?? I don't know. He must have hidden under the skirts of Roman Abromavich after ridiculously moving from AC Milan to scumbag Chelsea. In other words, his status shifted from God to the dirt of one's shoe.

For all the hype being played on about Shevchenko being the dangerman, he certainly failed to display those qualities in him while donning the captain's armband for his country.

And Carles Puyol, man, for a lorry driver, you sure know how to marshal your back four & snuff out the Ukrainian threat with your scruffy unruly overflowing gold locks. A flick of your shaggy mane and poof!! Attack, begone!!

Well done & viva Espana!!

Supposedly, there's still Round Two that I haven't had a chance to review. But, that shall have to wait. Till then, watch this space for your almost daily dose of World Cup updates.

I am SO not looking forward to tomorrow's Graduation Ceremony...

Laterz...
Lenny Chubby Dean GodGilla Xabs