2. The Weston Homes Community Stadium is home to Colchester United

3. The A2B Stadium is home to Ryman League One South side Worthing United

4. The Matchroom Stadium is of course home to Barry Hearn’s Leyton Orient

5. The DW Stadium is named after Wigan Athletic’s owner David Whelan

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Football is all about reputation. We qualified from a “tough” group featuring Croatia and Ukraine – both deemed to be “tough” teams to beat. But were they really? Croatia had humbled us in November 2007 to qualify for the European Championships but 10 months later we humbled them in Zagreb – what changed in the intervening months? Nothing much. When Wigan Athletic beat Chelsea earlier in the season at the DW Stadium did anyone really expect them to beat Chelsea again come the end of the season at Stamford Bridge? Not really, and the result showed us otherwise.

Our whole way of playing, developing, coaching, managing, and reporting on football in England is wrong. We will simply continue to suffer the pain we saw yesterday as each tournament comes around. Why? Because we are an island race and our thinking is so insular.

Who has the best league in the world? Many will say the Premier League. Sky Sports will ram slo-mo 3D HD clips down our throat until the cows come home but we should be looking to our victors last night for the business model that works for all parties. Fans gets to see their teams in stadiums designed with them in mind and prices that would make some Blue Square Conference teams blush, they get to see attacking football played by players who have been given the opportunity to develop through their youth systems. TV games are rigidly structured in advance so that every one knows who is playing when and the media knows when to start and stop building the hype and intruding.

Let’s look at this youth issue again. A year ago I sat in the Swedbank Stadion in Malmo and saw our Under 21 team under Stuart Pearce ripped apart by Germany. The star of the show that night was Mesut Özil. Since then a total of 9 of the German squad have gone on to represent the senior team and 6 of them were included in the squad for the World Cup, and 4 lined up against up last night – Özil, Kehdira, Neuer and Boatang. Two goal scorer Muller wasn’t even selected for the tournament!

Compare that to England. Only James Milner played a year ago from the team last night. Joe Hart was suspended and out of our squad only Adam Johnson and Gabby Agbonlahor have been included in the senior squad since. Many of the players who today play at Under 21 level in England are simply never given the chance to progress their career at a club level. The “current” squad includes 4 players from Chelsea, 2 from Arsenal, 2 from Spurs and then the rest from around the leagues. But how much Premier League experience (or European football to say that) will the likes of Jack Cork and Bertrand get at Stamford Bridge or Kyle Walker and Kyle Naughton at Spurs?

I became a realist England fan about 18 months ago. I missed only two away games (excluding the farce in Trinidad & Tobago) in over 5 years and during that period bought my numerous away shirts, was fleeced by my own FA over things such as ticket prices (more expensive to watch a friendly v Slovenia at Wembley than the competitive game against Croatia for instance, or the 300% mark up on the home versus away tickets in Moscow in October 2007) and even turned out on a number of occasions for the official England Fans Veterans team.

However, I was never your getting pissed in the Irish bar, singing “No Surrender” and actually thinking that our players cared about playing for their country. And I was not alone. Slowly a group of disenfranchised fans started missing games, tired of seeing the same lack of urgency and lethargy from our so called stars, who if they actually felt like it would come over at the end of the game and clap once or twice. Anyone who remembers how the players demanded a coach to take them 200 yards from the hotel to stadium in Minsk so as to avoid the fans, or the incidents after the games in Skopje and Zagreb will know they wanted no part of being in the England show.

So we cannot start to improve our prospects unless we go back to the grass roots. Developing players with the long term in mind. Allowing our home grown talent to actually play at the top level instead of constantly bringing in journeymen from overseas. Thinking about tomorrow instead of today.

But one area that has to take some responsibility for all of the media attention is the media itself. The amount of press that went to South Africa was just embarrassing. All of them are looking for a “story”, an angle that will differentiate themselves from the other hacks. So the more salubrious they can make their copy, the more they can claim it is an exclusive. As soon as the Germans were identified as our opponents you knew full well that the tabloids would start up the Jingoism machine and start pumping out references to Dads Army. Thank God we didn’t get to play Argentina in the next round is all I can say as comfort.

But these newspapers are read by the fans who genuinely believe we are the best team in the World. Anyone who saw our performance against USA should have known we were in trouble. Robert Green, interestingly along with David James, is the most educated player in the squad and had the balls to come out immediately after the game and take the blame – a fact that the serious writers in the media have appreciated for years (see Danny Last’s excellent interview with Henry Winter about this very subject here) but other players will go out of their way to avoid having to deal with the press.

The world and his wife were sent to South Africa but why? Why did the BBC feel the need to send their sport newsreader to South Africa to tell us about Wimbledon? Why did BBC Radio 5 live base themselves out there? Its not like we could actually see them on the radio? And what was the point of Gabby Logan? Faced with a perfect opportunity to ask Capello some difficult questions after the game on Sunday she simply asked him niceties about the weather and about why Stuart Pearce wasn’t wearing the same as him like Joachim Low and his assistant had. The players were equally bored and there was simply no stories to be had. Interestingly enough if you look back to 2006 the criticism of the team was that the WAG’s were distracting them. That was not the case it was just that the players were so bored and not allowed to do anything that the only thing of interest was the activities of a group of girls.

Premier League footballers today earn obscene amounts of money for what they do. There is no doubt that there are equally talented players throughout the land who for one reason or another, never get the chance to play at the top level, just like for every Robert De Niro or Al Pacino, there are actors treading the boards in local theatres who simply have not had the “shot at the big time”. The players are also so regimented as to what they can and cannot do. They are young men – they want to have a beer and have a laugh not be allowed one half of shandy every other night and a 30 minute slot on the X-Box. What happens when they get together? They can hardly talk about their travels seeing as they all end up in the same place, or places they have been out, as they aren’t allowed such freedom. So does it turn into a pissing competition as to who has the best car, the girlfriend with the best fake tits (John Terry apparently is the best person to ask) or the best salary? I suspect so – and when this happens what effect does it have on your James Milner’s or your Glenn Johnson’s when he is playing alongside someone who is on twice as much as himself?

The FA took over 40 non-playing members in the squad to South Africa. Surely someone should have been in charge of organising some events to take the mind off the boredom that the squad faced? When the Rugby Union’s British and Irish Lions tour the squad appoint a social committee from within their own number who organise all events as well as keeping an eye on everyone for tell tale signs of boredom. If a player is bored off the pitch, he sure will be bored on it too.

So there you have it….We are a nation cheated if you believe the press. But are we really? Or do we live in a false world where we hype our players up as God’s and then smash them down when they appear to be mortal. We all have to take some responsibility for this – the press, the fans, the management and of course the players. So let’s just move on shall we and learn our lesson and keep our traps shut in four years time in Poland and Ukraine. And please – anyone who decides to re-release Three Lions – you will be shot on sight!

I had originally tried to get to see a game in each of the twelve stadiums being used in the tournament but initially logistics deemed that I would miss out on games in Leipzig and Hamburg. Dortmund and Berlin were obviously sorted as England would reach the final right? So when I turned up in Hamburg for the game between Ukraine and Saudi Arabia I didn’t have a ticket for the game, or even a hotel room.

The latter was sorted with relative ease – the second hotel on my travels, the Maritim had rooms available for just €90 per night. Apparently, FIFA’s block booking had been cancelled the day before – hope for getting a ticket yet. There were no ATM Style machines dispensing tickets for games as we had seen in Korea, but what there was instead was a big buffet breakfast. And breakfast is the best place to secure a ticket at these tournaments. Corporate businessmen, let down by colleagues or customers rarely fancy taking their chances of trying to sell their spares outside the stadium, but in the confines of a secure room us men bond over bratwurst and black bread. A simple polite “excuse me, do you know of anyone who may have a spare for the game today” turned up trumps on my second go. Yes, the French businessman said and he would accept face value for the ticket. Sorted – now for a morning of culture. And what better place to start in Hamburg than the Reeperbahn.

Anyone who hasn’t “done” Hamburg is missing a real treat. Reeperbahn is a long street lined with bars and clubs promising a more adult version of what you will find in the red light district of Amsterdam. The street also boasts the “World’s biggest sex shop” which is as big as your local Tesco’s, including its own dungeon (the shop not Tescos). The city prospered thanks to its port status, and today it is second only to Rotterdam in terms of “tonnage” in Europe. And where there are boats docking, you will also get lots of opportunities for sex and beer. One of Hamburg’s most famous shops, just off Reeperbahn is a pawn shop. Yes, that is spelt right in this sense. This is where sailors, wanting their pleasures on land will trade literally anything as they disembark.

The Germans can be a bit shy though, and so Hamburg doesn’t thrust its naked women down your throat in such a way as Amsterdam does. You have to go looking for it, and all for the sake of research, that is exactly what I did. The street in question is sat back from the Reeperbahn, and is called Herbertsrasse. You can easily find it – it has a huge concrete barrier at each end stopping any casual voyeurs and packs of Balkan prostitutes trying to stop you walking down it, offering their “World Cup special” or “Hatrick of pleasure” at establishments round the corner. One such young lass offered me “double anal” which was a bit worrying as unless she had two such orifices, or she mistook my camera in my pocket for something out of a freakshow I assumed I would be joined by another chap, which wasn’t a good thought. When you eventually pass the picket line, round the concrete curtain you are met with a line of windows and girls of all persuasions…apparently.

So onwards to the AOL Aren..sorry..Hamburg World Cup Stadium. Located on the edge of town it has one of the most scenic approaches to a ground in Europe as if you decide to walk from the S-Bahn you wind your way through the woods, lined with blokes pissing against trees and plenty of illegal food, drink and merchandise salesmen. The stadium was hardly rocking, and for another FIFA declared “full house” there were large blocks empty. The Ukrainian team had promised much coming into the tournament and fancied their chances of progressing being placed in the same group as minnows Tunisia and Saudi Arabia. A 4-0 drubbing though at the hands of Spain in the opening game made this a must win game but with a forward line of Shevchenko and Rebrov they didn’t disappoint for this one, scoring four goals without reply from the Saudi’s in a game that was always destined to be a one sided affair.

Next up on the agenda was an ambitious double header, taking in Poland versus Costa Rica and then onwards to Cologne for the group decider between England and Sweden. I headed down on the early morning train from Hamburg. Again, I turned up in Hanover without a ticket, and simply walked into the Renaissance hotel on the lake beside the ground some 2 hours before kick off and picked up a ticket from a businessman who didn’t want to risk arrest outside. So I became Herr Fuchs for the afternoon. I had been to the AWD Arena on a number of occasions both before and after the redevelopment work carried out for the weekend and it was a firm favourite. With Germany and Ecuador both winning their opening two games this was a “dead rubber” with only pride to play for. However the fans were out in force with although the sunshine was the highlight of the first half as 43,000 saw Poland come from a goal down to win 2-1 in a game with ten yellow cards dished out by an over eager referee.

With ten minutes to go until full time I was on a train heading westwards in first class comfort towards the Rhine, and England’s trip with destiny. Two wins out of two for Ericsson’s had rubber stamped qualification, but they needed to avoid defeat to avoid the Germans in the next round. Cologne is a mere few hours south east of the English Channel ports and so the city was expecting nearly 50,000 ticketless England fans. The regional government had initially announced there would be no room in the fan zones, but faced with such numbers hastily built two more to cope with demand. Tickets for this one were exchanging hands at over €500 but I had no intention of missing it.

I was travelling in a carriage full of ticketless fans who were heading for the big screens. They asked me about my plans and I foolishly said I had a ticket. They didn’t believe me until I showed them, not letting off the plastic pouch that was under my shirt and tied around my neck. For the next ten minutes all of them took it in turns to be photographed with the ticket as a “I was there moment”. They all got off at the main station, whilst I stayed on. Realising that with just 30 minutes to go until kick off that the public transport routes to the stadium would be rammed full I decided to take the lesser known route to Cologne Technologiepark which is 1.5km to the north of the ground and get a bus from there. Great plan, especially when the train passed the station at 70mph! Eventually it stopped in the middle of nowhere and I got off sheepishly, cursing myself. I was at a park and ride stop – i.e people drive to here before getting the train to the city centre, which meant there was no buses or taxi’s to be seen. Ten minutes to kick off.

But then I saw a taxi come into the car park. It had a full load but I flagged it down. The driver was a Turk and explained he was parking here to head into the city centre himself with his family. I waved a €50 at him and he threw them out and sped off with me towards the stadium.

I got to the turnstiles with the game just kicking off. This was my eighth game in the tournament, and despite frequent “warnings” had never been asked for my ID when entering. Today was the exception and thank fuck that they picked a game where I had a legitimate ticket with my name on it. Still the delay was enough for me to miss Michael Owen saying goodbye to his England career as he was stretchered off with knee ligament damage.

A close game, one which showed our defensive frailties with Robinson in goal, especially defending set pieces. Joe Cole’s fantastic goal was the highlight of the 90 minutes but the stadium almost equally split between the red and white of England, and the yellow and blue of Sweden summed up what the World Cup should have been all about.

So a 2-2 draw meant that England had avoided Germany and it would be Ecuador in Stuttgart in five days time. I hadn’t booked a hotel for the night, instead using the floor at Frankfurt Hahn as my pillow for the night along with a few hundred other fans. For once the Germans missed out on a trip, deciding to not keep the Sex shop and XXX Cinema at the airport – they would have made a bomb!

Five days later and after my almost weekly flight into Frankfurt Hahn I spent an hour and a half on an empty bus down to Mannheim, smug in the knowledge I had outwitted and under spent my England Fan colleagues who had flown to Stuttgart and were in the fan park already. Fools! Everyone knows that to be a “loyal” fan you need to take at least four different modes of transport and travel in two countries. But I had the last laugh as my 6 hour trip had only cost £50!!!

I met up with West Ham Phil who had managed to blag a ticket through one of the official sponsors. As we walked to the stadium we saw a guy reading my Fans Guide book. A proud moment for me indeed along side the moment I first saw one for sale in a shop. I decided not to stop in and ask if he wanted me to sign it after I head him say “Well that bar was utter shite”, referring to the food and drink section.

My seat was in row 2. In most stadiums this is a good seat. In Gelsenkirchen for instance row 2 is about 6 foot above the pitch level. Here in Stuttgart row two was essentially at pitch level. In between me and the goal were half of the world’s media, TV crews, advertising hoardings and the occasional substitute warming up – good job for the big screens then as David Beckham’s early free kick sent through a very nervy England.

I travelled back with Phil and his mate Andy to Walldorf where they assured me that there was the “best pub ever” to watch the Netherlands versus Portugal game later in the evening. “It had loads of fit women, a huge screen and the atmosphere had been brilliant” they told me after watching the Argentina game in there. Of course when someone tells you that you should be prepared for disappointment. The bar was, of course, empty and wasn’t even showing the football – it had a repeat of the European Grand Prix on.

Reluctantly the barman changed the channel and we sat in stunned disbelief at the events on the pitch. Portugal’s one goal was overshadowed by a remarkable 4 red cards and 16 yellows in a game that looked like it could be a repeat of the War of Restoration (o-level History reference thank you very much) and meant that they would be playing England in Gelsenkirchen in just under a week.

So my World Cup had started some three weeks previously in Gelsenkirchen, and it could possibly end there too. Unsurprisingly everyone and their ex-wife wanted a slice of this action, so travel plans were problematic. I ended up flying to Frankfurt Hahn again, then a bus to Koblenz where I would get a train up to the Ruhr valley. Another easy 6 hour trip just to prove my loyalty. We had to collect our tickets from the official FA ticket centre, which in this case was a portakabin in the middle of a car park. temperatures touched the high 90′s and with no shade, organisation of opportunity to buy refreshments, tempers became fraid. The FA, decided to have just one person on duty to dish out over 5,000 tickets and as usual had no idea of the consequences.

I got chatting to a couple of chaps in the queue, who as it turned out, had driven over in the morning, and would be going back straight after. They were “scouts” for Charlton Athletic, and the club had paid for their trip, hired them a car and provided them tickets. I saw a glimmer of an opportunity and as luck would have it I was “invited” to have a lift back after the game all the way to TBIR towers, and the driver lived but a mile away from SE9. Could the day get any better?

In a nutshell, no. Spineless, gutless, lack of ambition and motivation are words I normally reserve for West Ham, but four years ago I could easily apply them to England’s performance. Sod the fact that Rooney got himself sent off (note to English media – Rooney stamped on someone bollocks – that is violent conduct), sod the fact we had no invention going forward, and sod the fact we cannot take penalties for toffee. We were shite. We deserved to go out, the only disappointment is that it took over 2 1/2 hours for it to happen.

So the end of my World Cup for four more years. A rollercoaster of emotion it wasn’t. There was an air of predictability about England’s performance and even today I struggle to think of a passage of play where I could say we were “good”. Ericsson had been given the keys to the “golden generation” and had simply stood there and watch them pay more attention to their wives and girlfriends (and each others in the case of John Terry). But Germany is a wonderful place, and I do not think there could be a better organised World Cup.

So my 10 highlights?

1. The stadiums – Twelve stadiums, all either new of rebuilt, holding at least 41,000 and invariably full set this World Cup apart from all others. Whilst the “FIFA Family” took the lions share of tickets in the form of sponsorship and freebies, real fans somehow managed to get their hands on a ticket for the games that mattered. Our favourites? Köln’s RheinEnergie Stadion and the awesome Westfalonstadion in Dortmund.

2. The fan parks – Not everyone’s cup of tea but by placing them in the centre of the cities, making them big enough to cope with tens of thousands of fans, providing loads of places to buy beer they did more to cater for fans without tickets than at every other tournament.

3. Stadium names – You have to admire FIFA for their attempts to remove anything that was in contravention of their official list of sponsors. Allianz who part funded the building of the new stadium in Munich must have been so chuffed when their signage was covered with a makeshift banner for games at the FIFA World Cup Stadium Munich, likewise Veltins not only were booted out of Gelsenkirchen, but their beer removed too…talking of which..

4. Beer in the stadium – English fans turning up for the games could not believe that you could buy your beer and take it to your seat to enjoy it whilst games went on – an arrestable offence at the same grounds in any UEFA competition. We didn’t repeat the trick once we discovered it was watered down Budweiser though.

5. Oh dear Graham Poll – England’s refereeing representative had successfully handled two games in the tournament and was being talked up as a potential final candidate. Then came the events of 22 June when he officiated between Croatia and Australia. Having already yellow carded Croatia’s Šimunic, he then gave him a second one in the 90th minute. For some reason Poll failed to spot he had already booked him in, and five minutes later when he committed another foul he finally red carded him. Poll then retired from International Football a laughing stock.

6. Serbian hype – “Dark horses for the tournament”, “Watch out these guys could surprise a few people” and “Europe’s newest hope” were some of the things written about Serbia (and Montenegro at the time) pre-tournament. They had qualified ahead of Spain without losing a game and in the process only conceded one goal. Sure, they were drawn in a difficult group but did anyone think they would cave in so badly to Argentina 6-0? Three games, three defeats and 10 goals conceded….who believes the media anyway!

7. The Battle of Nuremberg – Surely the best game of the tournament, not for the football but for the wanton violence on the pitch. Russian referee Ivanov issued sixteen yellow cards and four reds in a game where every passage of play ended with a violent assault. Each tournament should have one of these!

8. Top touting – Demand was so big for all games that touts made a mint. Doesn’t matter what the game was, they were there in force outside the stadium gates, flaunting the rules, demanding €300 for Iran v Angola in Leipzig and not willing to budge even 10 minutes into the game, and even in one instance we saw setting fire to the ticket as opposed to selling it. Why? Because they all came gratis from the official sponsors who simply didn’t want their share of Tunisia v Saudi Arabia or Togo v South Korea. Well done FIFA.

9. The Adidas World Cup Stadium – It had scam written all over it but if you looked carefully you would see the truth. Ebay was full of tickets available for the FIFA World Cup Final in Berlin for less than €100. “Great seats”, “Once in a lifetime offer”. So what were they? Well those good chaps at Adidas had constructed a 10,000 seater replica OlympiaStadion in front of the German Parliament, and then gave away the tickets. So those thinking they would be there in person for the final would only be watching it on TV. It’s like buying a ticket for Wembley to watch England and finding out you were watching the fans team at Vale Farm, home of Wembley FC. Gutted.

10. What you are remembered for - The biggest stage for your final game. The World Cup final, with a global audience of 100billion people (or something like that). What a way to go out. France’s captain Zinedine Zidane had already put the French in the lead from a controversial penalty, only for Italy’s Materazzi to equalise in the 19th minute. Extra time followed and with the game heading for penalties the two goal scorers became involved in a war of words as the ball headed upfield. Materazzi obviously pressed all the right buttons as Zidane turned and launched a headbutt straight into the Italians chest. Queue a red card, a defeat on penalties and years of asking…Why?

More photos from our trip to the tournament can be seen here.

The awarding of Germany as hosts was shrouded in controversy. Sepp Blatter won another term in office on the back of promising to bring the World Cup to Africa in 2006. However, when his cohorts came to the voting process, it all went tits up. The FA had done themselves no favours by rescinding on a “gentlemen’s” agreement with Germany that in return for support to host Euro96, the FA would support a Germany 2006 bid. Instead they themselves submitted a bid, conveniently forgetting that any such conversations ever took place. July 2000 in Zurich was the date set aside to decide who got the tournament.

England still had the cheek to turn up for the voting, along with Morocco, Germany and South Africa. Brazil had for some reason pulled out 3 days prior to the vote – quite a waste considering all their money was already spent. Round one of the electoral vote saw Morocco eliminated with just 3 votes. Interestingly enough, South Africa scored just one more than England with 6 and Germany were the clear winners with 10 votes, interestingly all but one from other European nations. Round two saw England gain just two votes with eleven each going to Germany and South Africa so not for the first time in a World Cup competition, England left in embarrassment.

Each confederation had sent their delegates with clear voting instructions. On the other side of the world sits New Zealand, and their Scottish ex-pat Charles Dempsey had been sent with instructions to vote England, and if they were eliminated, South Africa. On that final day, Dempsey abstained, citing “intolerable pressure” meaning that the vote was 12 v 11 in favour of Germany. Had Dempsey voted, then Blatter would have cast the final vote in favour of South Africa. But he couldn’t so the tournament was heading for Germany.

Tickets went on sale in January 2005 on an internet platform that was supposed to be able to cope with the demand. Of course it couldn’t and from day one until the day the last ticket was sold it strained at the seams, often falling over through the huge demands put on it. The number of computer keyboards that had to be replaced during the next fifteen months due to over use of the F5 key only helped swell the coffers of PC World and Currys in a practice known as “fishing” where refreshing the ticket availability screen often “hooked” a game, such as the day I managed to land a ticket for Jonnie for Australia v Brazil in Munich. Some games were available every day – Angola v Iraq in Leipzig was one such example although on the day it was better attended than most games in South Africa.

I planned a series of short trips, taking advantage of the regional airports and thus maximising both tournament and family time. I had a “follow us to the final” ticket for England – although none of us really expected Ericsson’s tepid management style, and overhyped under performing players to go further than the quarter finals. Around these games were a couple of longer trips, one of which was bizarre in itself.

In 2005 I had been paid off by another telecoms company and decided to see if “everyone has a book in them”. So I used my time off wisely, headed off to Germany for a month to watch the Confederations Cup and started research into a travel guide for the fans by the fan. I touted it around a number of publishers, but as any aspiring author will know for every 10 letters you send, you will get 1 reply. And that will be a No. So I decided to go down the self-publishing route and in October 2005 the first copies of “Fuller’s Fans Guide to Germany 2006″ rolled off the printing presses and into the shops. Well, not in every shop – you see to get onto the shelves of the likes of WH Smiths you have to be a published author – so essentially they will not take a risk themselves. So as well as self-publishing, I self-promoted. It didn’t help that I was not allowed to use words like World Cup, Germany 2006 and FIFA in the title. But the book sold well, and I was spending an hour a day fulfilling orders to all over the world.

One such query came from the US where one of their travel agencies wanted the licence to print 2,500 copies, with some modifications. They wanted the book for the fans who were booked on their trips out to Germany. As a side question I was asked “I don’t suppose you fancy being one of our hosts do you?”. All I had to do was to turn up at the hotels they were using, shepherded some Americans onto a coach, sit on the coach to the match, make sure they get back on afterwards and that they get off at the right hotel. And my payment? $100 per day plus a free match ticket and hotel…Where do I sign up!

I had also arranged a trip with Football Jo. As regular readers know, trips involving Football Jo are normally eventful, and this was no exception, taking in three games, in three days in three cities with a host of cameo appearances along the way.

England had qualified with relative ease, finishing top of a group featuring Poland, Austria, Northern Ireland, Wales and Azerbaijan. Their prize was a group featuring Paraguay, Sweden and newcomers Trinidad and Tobago. Good old FIFA as when the draw took place England’s games ended up being in the smaller stadiums of Frankfurt, Cologne and Nuremberg whilst other group games took place in the much bigger stadiums of Dortmund and Berlin.

So day one and the tradition of the World Champions playing in the opening game had been changed to allow the host nation to have the honour. I had tickets for the 2nd match, between Poland and Ecuador in Gelsenkirchen. This was one of the rare occasions when tickets could be purchased on the day of the game, thanks to a last minute “release” by FIFA – for this read they couldn’t sell them at inflated prices as part of a hospitality packages to far eastern tourists. Gelsenkirchen. That was the first “interesting” challenge for the event organisers. The Veltins Arena had to be renamed for a start as Veltins is a beer not on the “approved” FIFA list and thus the whole ground had to be renamed as WC Stadium Gelsenkirchen. Second problem – the stadium, being a state of the art stadium used smart card technology. Brilliant concept but FIFA is twenty years behind the rest of the world and so they had to re-install old fashion turnstiles. Stadium cards which are used to purchase food and drink? Not likely, good old fashion Euros here please so Football’s Family could have their cut…

With the German game kicking off earlier, for once we saw a bit of sense – the game was being shown on the huge TV console that sits high above the centre spot in the arena (apparently the biggest TV’s in the world according to the stadium pr machine). The Poles obviously took the side of the Costa Ricans, the Ecuadorians on the German’s side. After the hosts 4-2 win, the expectations were on a Poland win, after they had qualified with relative ease. But it was the South Americans who pulled off a surprise 2-0. Twelve hours later my train pulled into Frankfurt Main station. I had purchased a month long rail pass and planned to use it to good effect so after the game in Gelsenkirchen I headed down to Essen and enjoyed a night out provincial German industrial town style – think Barnsley with no culture.

And what a site greeted me in Frankfurt. Thousands, tens of thousand, England fans enjoying the strong German beer and the June sunshine. Opposite the main station is an Irish bar and the fans had taken it over. Now here is the bad part of following England. Fans waving their St George’s Crosses, drinking Guinness singing “No Surrender to the IRA, scum” in an Irish Bar. Why? Why? Why? Why? Do they not know we have been “at war” with the Taliban or Al-Qaeda for the past 10 years? Surely someone could have updated the song?

Inside the stadium and it was clear where all the tickets had gone. Three quarters of the stadium was red and white, although there were also the colours of Paraguay. One exception to the busy areas were the corporate seats which were, unsurprisingly empty at kick off. A story that we would see repeated at all grounds for all games across the tournament. Three minutes gone and England had opened their World Cup account. A brief header from Paraguay’s Gamarra from Beckham’s freekick had eluded the Paraguayan keeper and it was 1-0. England then went into Ericsson mode – worried that they had scored so early they were unconvincing at the back and lacked penetration going forward and a 1-0 was only just deserved.

I flew home for a few days afterwards, returning a few days later with Football Jo. Our trip started and ended in Stuttgart where we had hired a car for the next few days. This is Germany, the home of the automobile and the unrestricted autobahn so when you hire an “Executive” car, you get something a bit better than a Mondeo. We took delivery of a 2 week old Mercedes CLK. Whilst Football Jo had paid for the car, I took control of the driving – after all we wanted to test this beast not caress it on the fast wide motorways. Day one saw us drive to Munich to pick up our tickets for the big game – Saudia Arabia v Tunisia, only surely bettered in the tournament for glitz by Angola v Iran.

The following day we were heading up to Nuremburg where I had a ticket for the England v Trinidad & Tobago game. Note me, not her. But as we were driving around the edge of the magnificent Allianz Arena at 100mph I got a call on the mobile. Careful not to drop the camera I was holding to film said stadial masterpiece I wedge the phone between my ears, and the steering wheel between my knees. “Hello Mr Fuller, FIFA here. We have you down on the shortlist for England v Trinidad. We have two spares – do you want them?” I looked at Jo, making puppy eyes at me and was so tempted to say “wrong number” but instead I said “YES”. Bit what would we do with the spare.

Jo came up with the idea to taunt Greek George back in Harpenden with the news. No sooner than we said we had a spare than he said he was off. He would drive through the night if necessary to be at the game (and true to his word as you will see, he did).

Our hotel was a typical Premier Inn style of affair. as usual we had to answer the same “yes we want separate rooms, and no we are not married” questions. We had passed a traditional German beer garden on the way to the hotel so headed back up there to watch France’s bore draw with Switzerland complete with a huge pork knuckle and lashings of beer, all served by traditional Bavarian buxom waitresses. This was no tourist place – we were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by fields well off the tourist beaten track. However, it was an eye opener to see the locals let their hair down. The following morning we set off early, travelling up to the fantastic fan park at the Olympia Park. Here they had built a huge screen, floating on the lake which later would host over 70,000 Germans to watch the game between the hosts and Poland.

First up was the tie between Spain and Ukraine which we enjoyed relaxing in the sunshine before heading north west to the Allianz Arena for the game between Tunisia and Saudi Arabia. As games go it wasn’t bad. Well over 55,000 in the 63,000 seater stadium and a decent 2-2 draw. Our plan was then to head back to the fan park for the Germany game, and finally a drive home. All of the announcements on the U-Bahn were to avoid the Fanpark area as it was full to capacity. But we had a car to collect so we simply ignored the advice and when others were being turned away at the gate, we were welcomed in when we showed our car park ticket and enjoyed the patriotic locals secure their place in round two in a crowd bigger than that in the actual stadium.

I was late getting up the next morning but Jo was already up and had found two new friends. A couple of young England chaps, complete with red and white face paint and St George’s capes. They didn’t have tickets for the game but Jo had offered them a lift in the Merc to Nuremburg where we would try and get them tickets. We parked on the outskirts of the town centre, within walking distance of the stadium and no more than a mile from the autobahn for a swift exit afterwards. You see – forward thinking and hence why some of my more educated friends refer to me as “The General”. Fifteen minutes later we had met Greek George who “apparently” had stayed in a house of ill repute in Strasbourg overnight and then left his car in Stuttgart and got the train in.

The main square in Nuremburg was packed, and the temperature was rising as the Weather Girls would. According to all sources the streets were indeed the place to go to get your ticket although it would cost you over €400. Good old Jack Warner, bezzie mates with Sepp Blatter had got his hands on all of the Trinidad and Tobago tickets and had then sold them only as part of a tour package to the finals at hugely inflated prices, but get this, only available through a travel agent which was owned by…..himself. And where did most of these tickets end up? On the streets of Nuremburg and eventually in the hands of the England Fans.

Less said about the game the better. It took over 75 minutes for England to beat potentially the poorest team in the World Cup, although ex-West Ham goalkeeper Shaka Hislop had a blinder. Hardly the most convincing win, but it was two wins out of two. One funny moment was when a pissed up England fan staggered into the row behind me and proceeded to tell everyone who would listen he had just paid £400 for his ticket…and then approximately 5 minutes later he was asleep, and stayed that way throughout the whole game and past the final whistle when we had to climb over him to get out. What a good use of £400!

After the game we headed back to the car. Nuremburg is a fantastic city with so much history (see here for our last visit here, complete with OAP Window hookers galore) and the area around the stadium is quite rustic as it is surrounded by fields and lakes. Many of the England fans had set up their tents in this area, and on a sweltering June afternoon the waters looked very tempting indeed. Apart from one thing – the signs posted around the lake with a big skull and crossbones on. A couple of England fans, obviously thinking this was some kind of pirate themed water attraction, took a huge run and jump into the water. Queue police and medics arriving en masse within seconds to pull them out and start hosing them down.

We headed back down the autobahn to Stuttgart, at one point hitting a legal speed of 150mph in our silly fast car where we would be making our way back to England for err…one day before I was back, this time with CMF to celebrate our new jobs as American tour guides. We flew into Karlsruhe/Baden Baden which was home to the WAGS as opposed to the England squad. The whole WAG situation had taken over the media, becoming more important that the team themselves and requiring a whole plane full of additional journalists to sit at the gates. We travelled out in first class comfort of Ryanair with a couple of members of the scum press who were hoping to find some dirt on the team to “support the boys” from back home. We drove up to the fantastic city of Heidelberg, sitting astride the banks of the Neckar where we would be babysitting our cousins from across the pond for their game versus Italy.

Kaiserslautern was a strange choice for the tournament. The stadium redevelopment had run into serious structural issues and the town itself was too small to really host the level of fans arriving. The ground is also located on top of the hill, meaning that we had to supply oxygen for our US fans on the climb. The US were entertaining Italy for this one who had failed to set the tournament alight – a sure sign that they would eventually get to the final whilst the Americans had been stuffed by the Czech’s in their first game. So it was a must win for them otherwise they would be the first team to be eliminated.

You’d be hard pushed to find a more dramatic opening 45 minutes in the tournament with two goals, one an own goal and two red cards. Italy took the lead through Gilardino, but just five minutes later it was all level with an own goal from Italy’s Cristian Zaccardo. A minute later the Italians were down to ten men when Daniele de Rossi was sent off for an off the ball incident. In the last minute of the half it became 10 v 10 when the USA’s Pablo Mastroeni was red carded. The American next to us started telling everyone around us about the 10 minute “sin bin”. Two minutes into the second half they were down to nine as Eddie Pope got a second yellow.

With all of the Americans collected after the draw we headed back to Heidelberg, dropped them off, collect our “money for old rope” and then continued on our World Cup adventure…Next stop Hamburg.

To be continued…

In 2001 I got the “best job in the world”. Somehow I managed to blag a role that essentially saw me have to fly around Europe, first class all week, collecting air miles in return for a very fat salary and the occasional report on how certain sales teams were doing. This was the second coming of the Internet bubble and you could not do better than working for a US internet company who literally threw money at everything. In fact they were throwing too much money at everything and as 2001 became 2002 everything started to unravel. The signs were quite evident…offices suddenly closing, doors being locked from the inside in others to stop the bailiffs and then wages not being paid.

I had at least the sense to plan my travel around Europe on Lufthansa and BA, collecting outrageous amounts of air miles for one purpose only – for the 2002 World Cup. Tickets went on sale in early 2001 and were snapped up for the games in Japan, with all general sale tickets selling out within hours. So I was left with South Korea – wasn’t my first choice but with some careful planning I managed to work out a decent schedule of a game a day for eight days plus a bit of sightseeing. All I needed was the draw for the finals and England to be drawn in Daegu where I would be based and had a venue specific ticket.

So come 1st December I sat, eyes glued to the TV….According to the schedule I would be seeing thirteen different teams…So here goes….

Slovenia, Denmark, South Africa, Senegal, Uruguay – at this point I had had enough. England had been drawn already in Japan and this looked crap. My first game of Denmark v Senegal hardly filled me with joy. But it got better especially when South Korea v USA was drawn.

Fast forward six months to late May in 2002. My dream job is fast going down the pan. May’s pay had been “delayed” and all of the staff were ask to attend a meeting at 11am on Friday 31st May in our London office. I think everyone knew the game was up and we would all be told the company was bankrupt and we would be made redundant, owed in some (i.e my case) thousands of pounds. Extra security had been brought in to stop the staff looting the offices. The meeting took 30 minutes and then everyone calmly went across the road to the pub where the opening game between France and Senegal kicked off at 11.30am. Management and security rubbed their hands at a job well done and disappeared off in their limo. Two hours later, when the curse of the opening game had seen Senegal upset the French and a number of beers later, the staff swarmed back across the road and stripped the office of anything and everything. Justice was done.

My justice came from the air miles I ha accrued that allow me to fly first class to Seoul and stay in some of the finest hotels (I know that because I saw Mr Blatter at three of them!) in Korea. So three days after losing my dream job (incidentally I had managed to secure a move back to my previous job in the meantime albeit for less money than I was earning, but more than when I left them a year before) I landed at Incheon airport. I knew nothing about the country, none of the language and had little idea where my hotel was. But that is what travel is sometimes about.

My first game was later that day in the “suburb” of Suwon. I got off a bus in what I thought was the right place but the squiggles looked the same. Not for the last time on this trip as soon as I got my map out a lovely young lady appeared at my side and asked if I needed any help. I told her my hotel name and she said she would walk me there, pulling out a small note book with some pre-prepared questions for visitors such as “Do you own a tree?”, “What is your favourite car?” and the timeless classic “Do you know Shakespeare?”. She escorted me to my hotel and I offered to buy her a coffee but she was off to go and find some other westerner to help.

So day one – match one – Portugal 2 USA 3. What a start to my World Cup. Portugal with Luis Figo were odds on favourite for this one. Suwon was hardly rocking, and the stadium was decked out with a US and a Portuguese flag to wave on each seat. Thirty five minutes into the game and the US were 3-0 up. Shock number two of the tournament maybe? Two Portuguese goals were simply consolations.

Day two saw an internal flight from Seoul to Daegu, which is Korea’s 2nd biggest city. As we left all of the group crew lined up beside the plane and waved us off – my western suspicions were crying out “they know something you don’t know about the plane” but such kindness was becoming more and more regular. I caught a taxi from the airport to the hotel. I had no idea what the exchange rate was and when I paid the taxi a bell boy took my bag to reception. The manager himself at the 5 star Imperial Hotel met me and asked how my long journey was. “Fine” I said “I have only come from the airport”.

Within seconds he was on the phone, talking animatedly to someone, and within minutes my taxi driver arrived back and was made to apologise for over charging me. My trip should have been £3 and he had charged me £4…Denmark v Senegal . Daegu’s World Cup stadium was probably the best in Korea. Set in the hills outside the city it looked like the McAlpine Stadium on steroids (I refuse to call it the Galpharm). A sixty three thousand seater cathedral to football, and on a scorching hot day the majority of the seats were taken up by locals who were either wearing a red or green t-shirt. Senegal were on a high after the victory against France, but it was Jon Dahl Tomasson who scored from the spot early on. Senegal walked in an equaliser early in the second half, putting both teams on 4 points and on the verge of the second round.

I headed off ten minutes before the end as I was attempting to see a second game in the day. Some 250 miles south east is the city of Busan, the biggest port in Korea. 250 miles in two hours? This was Korea not England so for the princely sum of £18.25 I has a seat on a train that would hit 220 miles per hour, with a seat back TV showing Cameroon play Saudi Arabia and a lovely Hostess serving me OB beer. If you read the ticket conditions of any major football tournament it will say you cannot have a ticket for more than one game in a day. Well Korea hadn’t quite hit the local excitement levels of Japan so for most games tickets could be purchased from ATM style machines in the city centres and airports. I had purchased a ticket for my third game France v Uruguay from said machine at Incheon airport without any issue.

Busan’s Asiad Main Stadium looks like an upside down flan case and despite its 56,000 capacity only 39,000 had bothered to turn up. They must have seen what was coming as the only incident of note was Thierry Henry getting himself sent off in the first half in a nil nil draw that confirmed the French’s elimination after just two games and 6 days in the tournament.

Day three and it was a trip north west to the town of Jeonju for Spain v Paraguay. A train then this time a luxury coach for the final leg. With kick off approaching, and the driver knowing that a few of the passengers wanted to go to the game he took a detour from his route and dropped us at the stadium before retracing his steps. Jeonju’s stadium was designed to resemble the sails of a traditional Korean ship but all I could see was waves of empty seats. Again, this was supposed to be another sell out according to Blatter-news. Spain had won their opening game but were behind after 10 minutes thanks to an own goal my Puyol. They came good in the second half with three goals including a brace from Morientes. However, my concerns were finding somewhere that was showing the England v Argentina game from Sapporo. One thing Korea didn’t do well was bars which showed the football in. In fact bars full stop. After a fruitless search in the town centre I headed back to the bus station where I joined a dozen or so locals crowded round a small portable to watch Beckham lay his ghosts of 1998 to rest. Full time and I had my hand shaken my every one before boarding my bus.

I arrived at Gwangju railway station at 1am, just in time to catch my train home. I had booked a seat but when it arrived it was packed to the rafters. We have all seen those pictures of people being squeezed on Japanese trains – well this was one of those. I could see an empty seat in the carriage though and having fought my way through I realised this was actually my seat – it was simply not the “in thing” to do in Korea to take a reserved seat, irrespective of how busy it was.

After a morning of sightseeing in Daegu which involved a visit to “Korea’s scariest haunted house” and a wander around the Red Light District (by accident of course) where the working girls were offering a 10% discount for every goal scored by the Fighting Tigers in the forthcoming game against the US I headed back down to the Daegu stadium for South Africa v Slovenia. Hardly a classic and if it wasn’t for the promise of seeing the hosting of Miss Daegu at half time the crowd would have been asleep after South Africa took the lead in the fourth minute.

Day five and I headed north to the capital, Seoul. I went up the KLI tower, the highest point in Korea, wandered around the oldest in Korea, shopped in the biggest shop in Korea and then headed up to the 38th Parallel and a visit into the “Third Tunnel of Aggression”. This tunnel is some 73 metres below the Demilitarised Zone, and over 1.5km long. It was built so that the North Koreans could make a surprise attack on the South, but it was discovered by chance, although of course the North denied it was dug by them.

It seemed a shame to drag myself away for the football, but that is what I was here to do so at 6pm local time I was in the Incheon Munhak Stadium for Turkey v Costa Rica. West Ham’s Paolo Wanchope was on show for Costa Rica who were one win away from the second round. A draw was probably a fair result, but more importantly I managed to pick up the best piece of World Cup merchandise – A puzzle postcard. Well, actually I got three of them – essentially they were cardboard envelopes with small jigsaws inside depicting one of the stadiums. A gift for a ground hopper who has everything maybe?

So one game left, and I had saved the best for last. Tensions between the South Koreans and the US were running high after a series of incidents involving the US military, the last being a drunk driver who had killed a local girl in a crash. So South Korea v USA was going to be an absolute corker. The stadium was full. 60,000 Korean fans, all issued with Nike pink Korean shirts (including me) and 778 US fans. Despite going a goal behind, the “fighting tigers” showed their true spirit in the second half and deserved their equaliser than would ultimately see them reach the second round.

So that was the end of my trip. Full of great memories, and some wonderful people and not a bit of plinky plonky music. However, the World Cup was not all about Korea. There was many other highlights, and these are my 10 from those four crazy weeks.

1. Rivaldo the cheat -One of the best players in the world coming into the tournament was undoubtably Barcelona’s Rivaldo. In fact the bow-legged Brazilian had just agreed to move to AC Milan. In their first game with Turkey he had pulled all the strings and had appeared to score the winner from the penalty spot. The game was in the fourth minute of injury time when the Turkish player, Hakan Unsal kicked the ball at Rivaldo who was waiting to take a corner. The ball struck his thigh, but the Brazilian collapsed to the floor holding his face. The referee was duped by his play acting and sent the Turk off. Rivaldo was subsequently fined by FIFA the massive sum of £24.54. Shocking

2. The best Brazilian team ever? – Despite Rivaldo’s cheating, the Brazilians were wonderful to watch with such attacking flair all over the pitch. They demolished China and Costa Rica, finishing the group stages with 3 wins out of 3, only one of two teams to do this. A walkover against Belgium in Round 2 saw them play England in the Quarter finals where that goal (see point eight) sent then through to the Semi-finals and a second win of the tournament against Turkey. A total of seven wins from seven games, scoring 18 goals in the process, 15 of which were scored by their attacking trio of Rivaldo, Ronaldinho and Ronaldo.

3. Rubbish start by the Germans – The opening games in the World Cup are cagey affairs. No team can really afford to lose their first game, as we have seen in South Africa. So Germany versus Saudi Arabia was one of those right? Er no. Germany scored eight times, debunking the myth that “there are no easy games in international football”. Miroslav Klose scores the first World Cup hatrick for at least four years. Impressive start.

4. Boring, Boring England – If the group games versus Sweden and Argentina were bad enough for the watching public, the game against Nigeria was the equivalent of a trip to the dentists. Painful. No imagination, no flair and no passion. Ericsson stayed rooted to the bench, content that a draw would take us through. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

5. Bye bye Argentina, France, Portugal – France – 1 point from three games, Argentina failing to beat Sweden, Portugal losing to the USA and South Korea. Bye Bye. Was the World Cup a better competition for the likes of Japan, South Korea, USA and Senegal progressing? You bet it was.

6. The Sene-gaul of it - It is fair to say that in the days before Youtube, and to some extent the internet, few people knew anything about Senegal. But the world was forced to sit up and watch when Papa Boupa Diop headed home the winner against France, and then when Salif Diao waltzed through the Danish defence a few days later. Shock runners up in the group stages, and thus eliminating France and Uruguay, they beat Sweden on the Golden Goal rule thanks to a Henri Camera brace, but were unlucky to lose to Turkey in the Quarter Finals to Turkey. The good news – some of that talent ended up in the Premier League. The bad news – it included El Hadj Diouf.

7. Well done Mr Moreno – The 18th June 2002 will go down in the history books as a black day for Italian football. 38,500 partisan home fans had crammed into the Daejeon World Cup stadium. Christian Vieri put the Azzurri in the lead in the first half but Korea equalised with a couple of minutes to go. Step forward Ecuadors referee, Byran Moreno. He was the key man in extra time as he firstly disallowed a legitimate goal by Italy’s Tommasi, then sent off Francesco Totti for diving and finally allowed Ahn Jung-Hwan’s 117th minute Golden Goal winner. Jung-Hwan was a player at Italian club Perugia, prompting their president to cancel his contract.

8. Lets us all lob Seaman – After a convincing win against Denmark in Round 2, England had to face Brazil in the Quarter Finals. With the game kicking off at breakfast time, London’s pubs threw open their doors early and the offices were empty when Michael Owen put England ahead in the first half. Unfortunately the team, featuring no lesser stars than Trevor Sinclair and Danny Mills conceded an equaliser in injury time of the first half. when Rivaldo scored after a mistake by the full back.

Five minutes later and a stupid free kick on the touchline gave Brazil the chance to send the big men forward from the back. But Ronaldinho had other ideas and from a full forty yards he lobbed David Seaman for one of the biggest English goalkeeping gaffs of all time. After this Brazil cantered to victory, even allowing for Ronaldinho to set himself sent off and sent England home, and millions of workers in England straight to the bar.

9. Never mind Michael – The Germans laughed when Gazza was yellow carded in Turin in 1990 and thus missed the final. So you can imagine the sympathy that we showed when Michael Ballack picked up a second yellow card of the tournament in the Germans 1-0 against the host nation in the semi-final. He did score the winning goal though. Some consolation.

10. Ronaldo’s revenge – Four years after the mysterious events in Paris had cost his country dear, Ronaldo crowned a wonderful tournament with both goals in the final against Germany. Sure, Oliver Kahn gifted him the first when he spilt Rivaldo’s shot but his second goal twelve minutes later was sheer class.

So what a month it was….bankruptcy, a new job, a new continent, seven games in eight days and one of the most dramatic World Cup’s ever. Surely 2006 in Germany could not be as good? We will just have to wait and see.

It was also a monumental year for me personally.  For just a few weeks after the tournament was due to end I was marrying, the now current CMF.  And for the first time, I had kept my girl through consecutive tournaments.  As a pre-wedding treat I had arranged a romantic weekend away in France.  This was when I was young and foolish, and thought that Paris was THE place to take a girl to impress her.  Now, with experience and hindsight I know the real truth and would not touch the place with a barge pole (see why here). Oh, did I not mention that it coincided with a couple of games in the capital  - how forgetful of me.

But first the farce.  England had qualified with a 0-0 draw against the Italians in Rome on the 11th October 1997.  How do I remember such details?  Two reasons – a birthday and a waterbed.  You see it was CMF’s (then simply the Future Mrs Fuller – FMF) birthday and we happened to be in Brighton for the night, having been to see Eddie Izzard.  I’d booked a little B and B on the front, even checking in as Mr and Mrs Smith for some naughtiness.  Our room had a massive corner bath and more impressively a water bed.  As the England game neared the end, with just a point needed I was bouncing up and down literally creating waves and testing its resolution to the limit.  I would not recommend this as a viewing medium to anyone.

So England were through.  Now, it would be rude not to go with the tournament spitting distance away.  And here was the first problem, dare I say controversy.  Ticket sales.  FIFA decided to give the French organising committee first dibs on the tickets, which meant that if you had a French address you got to buy them prior to anyone else.  And this was the days before the internet, so it was by phone only.  Of course all of those tickets ended up on the black market, and to try and prevent English fans travelling to France to buy tickets, the Government produced a wonderful little filmshowing an England fan, delighted with buying a ticket from a local, being denied access to the stadium.  It worked really well as over 60,000 English fans headed across the channel in June 1998, with only a tiny fraction actually having tickets.

Tickets for most games were “sold out” yet at each game the touts, most of whom spoke with a decidedly English accent, had hundreds of tickets for sale at a huge premium.  There was also stories of corrupt officials from various football associations around the world selling suitcases full of their allocations onto touts – for a more indepth account read John Sugden’s excellent Scum Airways.  On our said trip to France we managed to buy tickets in Lens for Jamaica v Croatia that had Mastercard printed on them, and the following day at the Parc des Princes in Paris for Germany versus USA with McDonalds on them.

In the week before the tournament started an event took place that undoubtably changed the game forever.  The election to the office of President of FIFA of Joseph “Sepp” Blatter.  Our Sepp was the protegé of outgoing statesman João Havelange and it was on his advice that the World Cup was expanded to 32 teams – thus guaranteeing more revenue for FIFA from the corporate sponsors, now called Partners and of course the world TV audiences.

Scotland were back in the finals, along with England, after missing out in 1994 and they were drawn to play Brazil in the opening game at the brand new Stade de France.  It took the reigning champions just four minutes to open the tournament as César Sampaio scored, but then just thirty minutes later miracle of miracles, Scotland equalised when John Collins slotted home a penalty.  But we are talking about Scotland here, so it was no surprise when Brazil scored a winner thanks to an own goal by Boyd.

France opened up their account two days later with an comfortable win in Marseille against South Africa in a game where we saw “the kiss” for the first time.  In a bizarre pre-match ritual Laurent Blanc would plant a smacker on the bald head of keeper Fabian Barthez.  These French are crazy my friend Asterix would say if he was alive today.  The following night one of the surprises in world football took place as Nigeria, so promising four years earlier in America, came from 2-1 in Nantes against Spain to win 3-2.

However, the story of the first week of the World Cup didn’t take place on the pitch, but on the beach in Marseille.  The local authorities had erected large screens in time for the first games, so when thousands of ticket less England fans arrived prior to the first game in Group G against Tunisia it seemed the natural place to watch the game.  However, add in some blistering sunshine, lots of alcohol and some baiting by the local African immigrants and you have a recipe for disaster.  The face of the English “disease” was James Shayler, posted across the news networks, with his shaved head and his St Georges Cross tattooed on his stomach.  The authorities initially banned alcohol when England were in town and then shut down any public screenings resulting in ridiculous situations as we saw when England played Columbia in Lens a week later and effectively the whole town was shut down.

So what else can we remember from twelve years ago?  What about these little morsels.

1. Same old Scotland – In a group where they must have fancied their chances of a second place finish, Scotland surpassed themselves in terms of self destruction.  The narrow defeat to Brazil in the opening game should have given them some confidence, and Morocco’s draw with Norway set them up perfectly.  A draw with Norway in the next game wasn’t the end of the world either.  All they needed to do was beat Morocco in the last game, and with Brazil certain to beat Norway they would sail through.  When have we heard this before?  The Scots were stuffed by the North Africans, and Norway’s shock late win over Brazil took them through instead.  ”Don’t come home too soon” sang Del Amitri in their World Cup song…yeah right.

2. Hasta La Vista Espanya – Spain came into the tournament in good form having qualified unbeaten in a tough group.  When the draw was carried out they would have fancied their chances along with Nigeria, Paraguay and Bulgaria.  However the defeat to Nigeria, and then a very tame draw with Paraguay saw them needing the Africans to do them a favour against Paraguay.  Despite the Spanish’s 6-1 win versus Bulgaria, the South Americans progressed with their 3-1 win.

3. It’s a small world after all - Any trip to Paris would not be the same without a trip eastwards to the little slice of America in Marne-le-Valle.  One of the oldest and most traditional rides at Euro Disney, as it was then known, was the annoyingly catchy It’s a small world ride.  So picture the scene.  USA are playing Germany in Paris and we decide to take in the upper floors of the Eiffel Tower.  So we queue up and get chatting to a guy in the queue who turns out to be from the Canadian FA.  I mention that I only know one guy in Canada and that was the former Millwall legend Derek Possee.  ”No way” said our new friend – “He is my boss!”.  And so started a long conversation about life in general.  He even offered us some tickets as his guest for the game against Iran in a few days time but we were off home.  It really is a small world.

4. Another dodgy England keeper - After their opening game against Tunisia, England travelled down west to Toulouse to take on Romania.  Despite the presence of the local military and water cannons, the game passed off off the field without an issue, which was more than could be said for the on the field antics.  Trailing to Romeo Moldovan’s goal just after half time and running out of ideas, Glenn Hoddle threw on 17 year old Michael Owen.  Five minutes later and he equalised but the drama did not end there.  Ninety minutes were up when a long ball down the England left wasn’t dealt with by Graeme Le Saux, allowing Chelsea’s Dan Petrescu to nip in and then plant the ball firmly threw David Seaman’s legs.  English keepers screw up at the World Cup?  Never.

5. The rise and fall of golden bollocks - After his impressive show against Romania, Hoddle had no option but to start with David Beckham in the deciding game versus Columbia.  And he didn’t disappoint in Lens, setting up Anderton’s opener and then scoring a magnificent free kick to make it 2-0.  So England were through, but defeat against Romania meant that they would be facing Argentina in Saint-Étienne.  In a highly charged game memorable for the Good (Michael Owen’s stunning solo effort) and the Bad (David Batty’s penalty miss in the shoot out) it was the ugly that made the headlines.  Reacting to a foul on him by Diego Simone, the young Beckham kicks out and is sent off.

The vilification of Beckham is something the country has never seen before.  Yes he was stupid, but did he actually cost us the game?  Who chose David Batty, a man who had never taken a penalty before to take the decisive spot kick?  And look at the reaction of Robert Green’s mistake against the USA last week – do we expect to see effigies of him hanging from lamp posts?  I don’t think so.

6.  The Golden Goal – Introduced as a way to stop the “unfair lottery” of penalties, the first game to be decided by the Golden Goal was Laurent Blanc in France’s 1-0 2nd round win versus Paraguay.  It never really took on, and FIFA tinkered with it a few years later, introducing the bizarre “Silver Goal” instead.  France’s game was the only one in the tournament decided in this way.

7. A dastardly plot - Just a few weeks ago Glenn Hoddle, the manager of the team in 1998 revealed that they had received a threat to blow up the bench during the tournament. Hoddle said recently: ‘There had been lots of trouble on the streets the night before. I didn’t know at the time, but I was told years later that people were trying to blow up the England bench. It didn’t cross my mind that something like that was happening.’

Former FA head of communications David Davies confirmed Hoddle’s story. He said: ‘Sir Brian Hayes, the FA’s head of security during the World Cup finals, alerted us to the possibility of a major security problem. We knew the England team had been targeted, but not the specifics. But I know we had security concerns in Marseilles.’

8. The best quarter finals ever? - England’s elimination to Argentina allowed us neutrals to concentrate on the rest of the tournament and what a set of games we saw in the last eight.  The surprise was Croatia, in their first ever World Cup stuffing the German’s 3-0 with Slaven Bilic, Davor Suker and AC Milan’s Boban impressing the watching world.  Brazil edged out Denmark 3-2 after trailing to a 2nd minute opener.  The Dutch, for so long a disappointment at major tournaments beat the now vilified Argentina thanks to a wonder goal in injury time from Denis Bergkamp in a band tempered game that saw two sent off and finally, France showed they had luck on their side with a penalty win against Italy.

9. What a cheat – The Semi-finals saw Brazil beat the Netherlands on penalties in a pulsating game which saw the Dutch equalise late on forcing the game into extra time.  But the real drama was in Saint Denis where the surprise package and neutrals choice Croatia took on France.  After a goal less first half the Croatians took the lead in the 46th minute when Davor Suker scored his 5th goal of the tournament.  The lead lasted just a minute when galloping full back Lilian Thuram his first goal for his country.  Twenty minutes later he scored a carbon copy goal – amazingly his only goals for his country in over 140 games. But the drama did not end there.  In the 76th minute there was some jostling at a corner, and Croatian centre back Slavan Bilic fell to the floor holding his face.  The Spanish referee was fooled hook, line and sinker and sent off Laurent Blanc.  TV replays showed that the Croatian had cheated and was not touched at all, meaning the Frenchman was ruled out of the World Cup final.  Cheats never prosper we cheered in October last year as England’s 5-1 at Wembley eliminated the Croats under Bilic’s charge.

10. What on earth was that all about? – What happened in the hours leading up to the kick off in Paris in the Brazilian camp will always be a mystery.  The star of their tournament was buck toothed centre forward Ronaldo but he was admitted to hospital after suffering a fit.  Quite how he then ended up playing is today up for debate as to whether there was outside influences from the likes of team sponsor Nike or whether it was all just mind games.  Whatever it was backfired completely as the French recorded the biggest winning margin in a World Cup final in 40 years.

Zinedine Zidane gave France the lead just before the half-hour mark with a header from an in-swinging corner. Only minutes later, Ronaldo was put through on goal by a long ball from Dunga, but he could not get the better of the onrushing Fabien Barthez, who collided with the Brazilian striker. Both needed assistance from the squad medics but quickly recovered. Zidane doubled France’s advantage on the stroke of half-time with an almost identical goal to the first and it was game over. Midfielder Emmanuel Petit wrapped up the scoring in the 90th minute to put the victory beyond all doubt. France had to survive the last 20 minutes with only 10 men with the dismissal of Marcel Desailly and thus became the newest name on the World Cup trophy.

So another advancement in world football.  First we have the commercialisation of the game, and now we had the all too common ticketing farce that has dogged every tournament since.  My nuptials passed with great success a few weeks later and my eyes were firmly fixed on 2002 and South Korea.  Surely I couldn’t swing that one could I?

All of a sudden we had Budweiser and McDonalds thrust down our throats at every opportunity, which is not a bad thing, but a Gillette razor or a Canon TV was a bit more problematic.  The US were awarded the tournament on the proviso that they had in place plans to launch their own professional league (The MLS was launched two years later), and benefited from the huge stadiums that had previously been built for the NFL teams.  Big stadiums meant big crowds and the tournament still holds the record for the highest average attendance at over 69,000.  And big attendances meant more money flowing into FIFA’s Swiss bank account in ticket sales.  Only $16.6bn for four weeks work – small time really.

So the world’s biggest game came to the world’s biggest commercial market.  And England were?  Well, most of the players were watching the tournament on their sun loungers in Magaluf or Mijas after a poor qualifying campaign at the hands of Graham Taylor.  Sure, many will point to the game in Rotterdam where Ronald Koeman scored the decisive goal to essentially eliminate England when he should have already been off the pitch through a red card. “Do I not like that” Taylor was heard muttering throughout the documentary made about the qualifying campaign.  Car crash TV at its very best.

So the world was denied the skills of Andy Sinton, the graft of Paul Parker, the comedy of Stuart Ripley and of course the ears of Carlton Palmer.  Not that it mattered to us English too much as we would still be cheering on Jack Charlton’s Irish right?

To get over the hurt of our non-qualification I had booked to spend three weeks on a Greek island, as far away from civilisation as possible.  When I say “I” I actually meant “we” as four years on from the car crash engagement during Italia ’90 I had met my soul mate.  Best not dwell too much on the details of how we met (you can read it here), but all I will say that as an 18 year old she was very well developed.  The idea of the holiday was to really get to know each other (it was our first trip abroad together), to get away from it all and to relax.

So we arrived on the tiny island of Kalymnos via ferry from Kos on the 17th June 1994.  The first thing we saw was a bar and having worked up a real thirst on our long trip we entered in, just as the opening ceremony of the tournament started, beamed like on a huge screen.  Well, it would have been rude not to have stayed wouldn’t it – I mean it only happens every 4 years.

Nobody ever remembers anything about the opening ceremonies of tournaments.  They all try and out do each other in terms of number of people involved, loudest music and biggest fireworks but this one will live in the memory forever.  Held at Soldier Field in Chicago it was full of American hype with President Clinton addressing the world before Oprah Winfrey fell off the podium.  But that all paled into insignificance when it came to the “finale”.  Diana Ross, in mid song hopped down from the stage, ran the length of the pitch and with only the keeper to beat from 10 yards, put the ball wide.  So wide that the goal exploded in stunned disbelief.  Even today she is know more than her miss than for any of her singing achievements.

So onto the tournament itself.  World champions Germany kicked it all off in Chicago with new boys Bolivia in a bad tempered game that saw 6 books and the South Americans play maker Etcheverry sent off after 3 minutes of coming on as a sub.  Interestingly it was the first win from a defending champion for over 20 years.

The opening round of games was simply too tempting to miss.  Every day we headed down to the deserted beach, got our 6 hours of sunshine, quick dip in the Ionian Sea before heading back up to the bar for our fill of Metaxa, Souvlaki and World Cup football.  Ireland upset half of New York with a famous 1-0 win over Italy, celebrated by the crappest bit of gymnastics ever by a footballer and with Norway beating Mexico an upset in that group was on the cards.  Brazil started with a win and Bebeto’s opening goal led to the often mimicked “rocking baby” celebration.

Whilst I was missing England not being at the World Cup, I should have been used to it as since I was born this was the third World Cup they had not qualified for (and actually in 1970 they qualified as champions).  However, we were having the best time ever in the sun.  These were the days that we all remember in the early days of a relationship – when you didn’t want to leave each other’s side.  When you only had another beer if it was “alright with you” and didn’t mention the word “porn”. And football was certainly on the agenda every night.  Whilst time does blur the memory a little, here are the ten things I remember from those sunny days.

1. Those tricky Romanians – Few people had heard of Hagi, Raducioiu or Petrescu before the tournament but their run to the semi-finals was very impressive.  Crap against Switzerland in the group stages, empirical in the games versus Columbia and Argentina the talisman Hagi pulled the midfield strings and scored one of the goals of the tournament against the Argentinians. A penalty defeat to Sweden in the quarter finals was no disgrace, and off the back of the tournament big name transfers changed the face of Romanian football forever.

2. Salenkwho? – Two games played two defeats gained was hardly the start that Russia expected in the World Cup.  With only 2 teams going through in the expanded tournament Russia were out, but in their last game played a Cameroon side who could still go through assuming they won, and Brazil beat Sweden.  Oleg Salenko had scored the Russian’s only goal of the tournament with a four minute penalty in the 3-1 defeat to Sweden.  Nobody expected much from the game but Salenko created World Cup history with 5 goals in a 6-1 victory.  Not a bad way to win the golden boot!

3. Crap Greeks – I am sitting here reminiscing watching the Greeks failing to turn up against the South Koreans and I remember back to 1994 when they were truly awful.  Spanked 4-0 by Argentina and Bulgaria in their first two games, they at least had some pride to play for in the final game against Nigeria.  But as in Euro2008 and as I fear in South Africa they simply couldn’t be arsed and just argued with themselves.  Even the locals where we watched the game started laughing at coach Panagoulias, making reference to him as Αρχίδια – literal translation as man with bollocks.

4. Same old Maradona, always cheating – The footballing world was stunned to see the old Maradona back in action in the opening games.  The 1986 version that ran the game, creating chances and even chipping in with the odd decent goal or two.  They looked unstoppable…until it was announced that Maradona had failed a random drug test and was banned from football.  From world beaters to being beaten by Romania in one easy step.

5. Nobody saw them as a challengerov- Like their neighbours Romania, Bulgaria had hardly set the footballing world alight in their history.  They hadn’t previously won a game in the history of the finals so expectations were low when they were paired with Argentina, Nigeria and Greece.  After their 3-0 defeat to the Nigerians in the opening game there was open dissent in the camp and few expected them to do any better against the Greeks in their next match.  Ninety minutes and four goals later they were singing a different song, and when Argentina minus Maradona were dispatched 2-0 they were round to round two.

A penalty win against the Mexicans and they were into a quarter final game with Germany where nobody gave them a hope.  Sitting in a bar full of Germans in Kalymnos it gave me so much pleasure to see two goals in three minutes, including a great header from Letchkov to see them reach the semi-finals.  Despite a spirited showing against Italy it ws a bridge too far for them.  We can forget about the 3rd/4th play off game against Sweden can’t we?

6. Losing it in Orlando – We know that the match scheduling for TV was a farce.  None more so than the lunchtime kick off in the 100 degree heat of Orlando against the Mexicans.  Denied the opportunity to rehydrate his team, and the ridiculous delays in being able to make a substitution, Jack Charlton and John Aldridge lose it with the officials and are sanctioned by the officials.  Fortunately their draw with Norway in the final game sees them through to the next stages anyway.

7. Lucky Italians…again – Another disappointing group stage performance from the Italians saw them win one, draw one and lose one, qualifying only on goals scored.  Two minutes to go in the second round game against Nigeria and they were 1-0 down and looking like they would be on the way home.  But some magic from the Divine Ponytail first took the game into Extra Time, and then he scored again in the one hundredth minute from the spot to set up a quarter final with Spain.  It was a Baggio show again as this time Dino scored the first and then Roberto broke the Spanish hearts with an 87th minute winner.

Semi-finals and that man Baggio scored another double to take them into the final against Brazil.  The rest?  Well see below.

8. Quarter Final drama -For once the knock out stages provided some great drama.  Amazingly in such hot conditions, seven of the eight quarter finalists were from Europe, with only Brazil being the rest of the world representative. Brazil’s 3-2 win against Netherlands was the game of the round and featured a fantastic goal from Denis Bergkamp who due to his fear of flying had left England for the USA back in March.  Sweden versus Bulgaria went to penalties after Kennet Andersson’s late equaliser.  In the penalties it was left to Henrik Larsson to score the winning spot kick.

9. The most disappointing final ever – part 2 – For the second final in a row the final was a disappointment and decided from the penalty spot.  Whether it was the heat (the game kicked off at 12.34pm in the Los Angeles heat) or the expectations of the watching world, Brazil and Italy failed to produce any penetration or attacking sense during two hours of play.  So it went to penalties.  According to Jonathan Pearce, Roberto Baggio had a dream as a child that he would score the winning goal in a World Cup final.  Whether we believe Mr Bullshit or not here he was within one kick of making that dream come true.  He had had a fantastic tournament, without a doubt the international star that he should have been.  And he ballooned the ball over the bar and Brazil were World Champions again.

10. The aftermath – Was football ever the same after USA 94?  It came the year after the formation of the English Premier League and there was certainly some commercial ideas had it across the pond.  FIFA, seeing the opportunity to allow anything to be sponsored that moved.  As for me, well by the time the next tournament would be starting I would nearly be a married man and life would change for me forever too.

“Even you, o Princess,

in your cold room,

watch the stars,

that tremble with love and with hope.

But my secret is hidden within me,

my name no one shall know…

No!…No!…

On your mouth I will tell it when the light shines.

And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine!…”

Italia 90 -in terms of passion and drama on the pitch it wont rank high on the World Cup-o-meter but off it was a different matter. The poem above is part of the literal translation of Nessun Dorma – possibly the most famous operatic song in the world, written by Puccini and sung by Pavarotti on the eve of the finals.

The good old internet wasn’t around in 1990 but I had managed to find a translation of the words in Mason Halls in Gravesend (a sort of eclectic independent forerunner to Tesco) and I liberally used the words throughout the decade to woo the girls. You see despite the presence of alcohol the best way to get your girl was through the “palabras de amor” – the words of love. Slip in a bit of Latin, Spanish or Italian and they were putty in my hands.

So 8th June 1990. After my pathetic attempts at trying to strike up love/lust as a 16 year old when the Mexican World Cup took place, I had matured. In fact I had peaked too early because in 1989 I met a girl who I worked with. Less than a year later we were engaged. From memory I proposed as a drunken dare in the footwell of a Pink Fiat Panda, and the next morning lived to regret it.

It was a relationship doomed to failure. Quite why I didn’t take one look at my prospective mother-in-law and head straight for the door I don’t know. It wasn’t as if I was seduced by the sex – again if I would have picked up on the early warning signs I would have been a once a month man. The thing that really changed me can be summed up in two words – CRAFT FAIRS. I was forced to give up my one love in life, football, for the sake of going to craft fairs. My promising, even if I do say so myself, playing career was cut back to a game a month and my visits to Upton Park dried up completely. This was, and is, the only girl I have “dated” that did not get football. and for that reason the 1990 World Cup will go down as a black period in my life.

The build up had been so promising. Has there ever been a better football song than New Order’s World in Motion? Even John Barnes sounded a credible rap artist, and better than the Anfield Rap effort of 1988 although to this day I still cannot work out what Keith “Dad of Lilly” Allen was doing in the background of the video.

These were also the dark days of English football. Hooliganism was still an ever present at games, and following the England team abroad was problematic. So problematic in fact that when the draw was made for the tournament, lo and behold the England games were miraculously scheduled to all be played in Sardinia – effectively turning the island into a huge temporary penal colony. Bobby Robson had stuck with many of the players who had flopped so badly in the 1988 European Championships in Germany, with the main addition of Paul Gascoigne who had impressed during the qualifying tournament.

The tournament kicked off with World Cup Champions Argentina taking on the improving minnows of Cameroon on a sunny evening in Milan’s San Siro. As with the last three tournaments there was a shock on the cards as the South Americans fell behind to Francois Oman-Biyk’s header in the 67th minute that keeper Pumpido could only fumble into the net. However the story of the game has to be the “robust” tackling of the Africans that led to two red cards, including possibly the worst tackle in the tournament’s history by Benjamin Massing. I still laugh at his stocking’d feet kick out at the on rushing Argentina players – pure quality.

The 11th June was the first big day of the tournament for us Brits. First up was a little matter of Scotland v Costa Rica. Costa who? said the Scots, obviously forgetting about Yugoslavia in 1974, Iran in 1978 and Denmark in 1986. I bunked off work early and came home (and not to the football free house) and sat down to watch this magnificent Scottish team “Say it with Pride” according to their long forgotten World Cup song.

And the Scots didn’t fail to disappoint, going down 1-0 to a country few had heard of let alone could place on a map. With Sweden and Brazil making up the group the omens were not good for the Tartan Army. Meanwhile events down in Sardinia had taken a turn for the worse. The England fans ran amok in the centre of Cagliari in Sardinia, sunbathing at will in the sunshine and drinking, shock horror, beer. They were then route marched to the concrete monstrosity of the Stadio Sant’Elia along with the Irish fans some hours before the kick off. The tension and excitement grew as kick off neared – this was Ireland’s first World Cup and many of their players (and manager) were team mates in the English First Division with the English team.

What a let down. After a four year wait the game was a drab as my sex life at the time. Moribund is a good word to describe it. Yes, we know it was hot, and yes we know that neither team could afford to lose but neither team really wanted to win. Lineker put England ahead in the 8th minute, but a mistake late on by substitute Steve McMahon let in Kevin Sheedy to equalise. The good news was that Holland only managed a 1-1 draw with Egypt the following night meaning a win against the Dutch would effectively send England through.

Other memorable moments from the opening set of games were impressive performances by the Germans, with Lothar Matthaus in fantastic form in the 4-1 against Yugoslavia, and Czechoslovakia’s 5-1 win against the USA. These two games aside, excitement was hard to come by in the opening rounds.

Taxing the old grey matter here are the ten highlights from the opening rounds of the tournament.

1. The white elephant of Turin – The Stadio delle Alpi was built to replace the Stadio Communale in time for the tournament. It was based in a barren wasteland miles from anywhere and with appalling sightlines and facilities. In the opening rounds it hosted all of Brazil’s games but every aspect of the stadium was heavily criticised. Twenty years on the stadium is partly way through a reconstruction although but Juventus and Torino prefer the refurbished Communale.

2.Plucky Scotland – A victory in their second game against Sweden put Scotland on the verge of qualifying. With 4 third place teams due to go through all they needed to do was avoid heavy defeat to Brazil. That was assuming of course that Sweden would beat Costa Rica. Which of course they didn’t do and Scotland once again were on that early plane home.

3. Bye bye to the Commies, Slavs and Slovaks – This would be the last tournament that we would see the names West Germany, Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia being used. In a logistical nightmare for UEFA the latter two would produce a further eight countries that would now be playing as national teams. All three had good tournaments and made it through to the Quarter Finals. Yugoslavia eventually went out to Argentina on penalties whilst West Germany were eventual champions.

4. Boring, Boring England – England’s group promised so much but delivered so little in terms of excitement. After the opening round with two 1-1 games, the next set of games brought two 0-0′s meaning all teams were level and the real prospect of drawing straws to see who went through was brought into play. Ireland and Holland drew again 1-1 meaning that a 0-0 draw would mean the straws would be out between England and Egypt. The deadlock was finally broken in the 64th minute when Mark Wright headed home and took England through and eliminated the Africans.

5. The divine pony tail and a mafia hitman – The home nation came into the tournament short of an in form forward. In their opening game the sold out crowd in the Stadio Olimpico in Rome waited impatiently for something against the Austrians, and with time running out Vicini turned to Salvatore Schillaci who had one substitute appearance to his name. Two minutes later the Scillian wrote himself into Italian footballing folklore with a goal that got them off to a winning start. Five days later they huffed and puffed to beat the USA 1-0 before turning in their best performance of the tournament with a 2-0 win over the Czech’s including a fantastic solo effort from the man who made mullets fashionable again, Roberto Baggio.

6. Spitting Heirs – Germany and Holland will never be the best of friends. I have been to many a club game featuring teams from both and the crowd have got a bit excited. So what did we expect from this second round game? Fireworks, flares and tantrums? Well the fans behaved themselves perfectly. The players were another story. Two of the more well known players, Dutch Frank Rikjaard and German Rudi Völler should have been preparing their 70′s style bubble perms and moustaches. But they decided to engage in a bit of spitting instead. Queue two red cards and both departed from the field with spittle hanging down from their curly locks. What was said to provoke the situation in the first place is still a mystery.

7. Walkabout – After their surprise win against Argentina in the opening game, Cameroon had beaten Romania to qualify for the second round where they played Columbia. With the game finishing goal less, Cameroon introduced Roger Milla. Now Milla was “officially” thirty eight years old at the start of the tournament, but there was evidence to suggest he was well into his forties. He put the Africans into the lead in the first minute of the second period and just three minutes later he scored again when Columbia keeper Rene Higuita decided to try and dribble the ball into the Cameroon half and was mugged by Milla on the half way line. What proceeded was like something from a comedy film – an aging African being chased by a long haired Columbian. Classic stuff.

8. Big Jack – After Ireland’s qualification from the group stages they had squeaked past Romania on penalties in Genoa in the second round. Their reward was a quarter final against hosts Italy in Rome. When in Rome what would a big ground of Irish catholics do? Of course – go and see the Pope. And what would you wear for such an auspicious occasion? A track suit obviously! The blessing lasted until the 38th minute when a long range Italian shot could only be parried by Packie Bonner and that little Scillian Schillaci was on hand to slot the ball home for the only goal of the game.

9. Peter bloody Shilton – I know he played about a million games for England, but he was well past his best in 1990. He was hardly tested up to the quarter final, and then made some poor positional performances in the win against Cameroon. But what was he doing in the semi final against Germany? Firstly from Andreas Brehme’s free kick he was yards off his line, so when the ball took a huge deflection off Paul Parker leaving Shilton frantically peddling backwards before the ball looped over his head (have a look at Baddiel and Skinners recreation of the goal here). After the game finished all square after extra time we went to penalties. And he got absolutely nowhere near a single one. Not surprisingly he retired from International football a few days later.

10. Throwing their toys out of the pram – The story of the tournament was negative tactics without a doubt. And this was summed up by the fact that both semi-finals were decided on penalties. Who to support in the final? Argentina or Germany? Hmm hardly the two most popular teams in England. And what a classic it was…not. A really awful final, only summed up by the petulance of the Argentinians who ended up with nine men (and were lucky to only have two sent off by their reaction to some of the decisions) when Pedro Monzon and Gustavo Dezotti were sent off either side of the deciding game, surprisingly enough a penalty by Andreas Brehme.

So the country went Gazza mad and the team in reaching the semi-finals came home heroes. Quite how or why I don’t know. We were a poor team in the poorest World Cup ever. Poor quality – summed up my relationship at the time. Could things get better four years later? Only time will tell.

Well that is what we normally do at TBIR Towers, but this Sunday we thought we would do something different.  Well, its the World Cup and all that so we will be drinking 32 (currently 31) beers from the 32 nations playing in the World Cup.  Why? I hear you ask (as well as can I come too) – because we are judging in the Cup of Good Hop.

Devised by Peter Styles, this afternoon long marathon with see TBIR and Danny Last from European Football Weekends (officially now Twinned with TBIR) as well as Peter and James putting on our tasting coats and scribbling notes on our clipboards…..probably.  I could explain what it is all about but I will let Peter have the honours.

“Put simply, Cop of Good Hop can be explained in six words – 32 countries, 32 beers – two blokes. Three weeks ago my friend James and I set each other the challenge of sourcing a brew for each nation competing in the World Cup. Now, with six days to go before the first games, we have only three to find – Cameroon, Slovakia and Uruguay.

It’s been a great deal of fun – we’ve done photoshoots and live beer tasting on the BBC, and investigated the world of esoteric beer – neither of us were strangers to the odd pint or six, but we’ve learned a lot about rare brews and where to find them. My favourite place is Utobeer in Borough Market, about a pitch’s length from Southwark Cathedral.

So far the Cup of Good Hop blogsite has had thousands of hits from more than 30 countries. Esteemed soccer journo Henry Winter gave us a plug on Twitter and wished us good luck – and with any luck we will – with a bit of creative thought – complete our noble yet slightly bonkers Dave Gorman-type quest and get on with the most important part – staging a beer World Cup.

We are going to pit bottle against bottle in a taste challenge mirroring the 64 WC fixtures in order to find the best combiner of hops, yeast, water and most importantly alcohol on the planet. Apart from the odd beer that we’ve drunk then replaced, the majority of brews are a mystery to us. The first bottle I bought was Switzerland’s Samichlaus, which has a hair-curling ABV of 14% and has ‘the strongest lager beer in the world’ written on the bottle. Paraguay’s entry weighs in at 12%, and there are a few others that would make you see your dinner before too long.

So what of England’s chances? Well, believe it or not, the biggest beer in Algeria is Skol – so I think we can safely assume they won’t be troubling the judges, and the current entry for the USA is Budweiser, but we have had pressure from some of our many American readers to get a decent beer to represent them. As for England, we have several to choose from, but reckon Jaipur by theThornbridge Brewery in Derbyshire would be a worthy adversary. As in the ‘real’ World Cup, England’s chances of advancing through the Cup of Good Hop group stage looks rosier than a … err, very big rose garden.

But it hasn’t been all about intrepid beer hunting – we’ve tried to look at the World Cup through the distorted lens of the bottom of a bottle. In one of the posts I investigate the players with amusing names who will be gracing our screens over the next month. Chile’s Waldo Ponce is my personal favourite, closely followed by Gaetan Bong of Cameroon – Germany’s Hans Butt brings up the rear of this particular miscellany.

So if you know where to get hold of Uruguayan, Slovakian or Cameroonian beer, or simply in need of alternative entertainment in between matches – you know where to go. You may not have time now to get all 32 beers together to hold your own Cop of Good Hop, but you can experience it vicariously through ours… and whatever you’re drinking during the festivities – may your cup be of good hop.

Lets see what Monday morning brings shall we apart from a stonking headache! Follow the lads adventures on the Cup of Good Hop Blogsite.