No One Likes Us, We Don't Care

"Come on lads. Group cry."

To the tune of (We are Sailing) by Rod Stewart: 

“No one likes us. No one likes us. 
 No one likes us. We don’t care. 
 We are Bra-zil. We are Bra-zil.
 We are Bra-zil. From Ri-o.” 

Once the final, elongated vowels of Osório Duque-Estrada’s anthem bellow out at the Estádio Mineirão tonight and hairs on necks return to their normal shape, the reality that Brazil are in a dog fight will sink in. A siege mentality that had already been constructed around the Seleccão after the first wobbly group games has been reinforced to the extent that one would be forgiven for thinking Brazil had been underdogs all along. The injury to Neymar and, to a lesser extent, the suspension of Thiago Silva adds further fuel to this particular fire.

Why A European Side Is Going To Win It This Year Or We'll Delete This Post

"Awww shit. Magic Spongers got it right again."

A lot is made about how European teams cannot win a World Cup on Latin American soil. Probably because they never have. So far, so fair enough. But as we’ve never let the problematic presence of ‘facts’ get in the way of our writing, we’re going to stick our necks out and say that this is the year it all changes and a European side will do just that. And this is a win-win situation for us because, if a European side does win it, we’ll just delete this very sentence, say "we told you so" and we’ll be the toast of the internet. And if a European side doesn’t win it, we just delete this entire piece. Or we keep it in and we look ‘meta’. There are plenty of ways to skin an onion.

Falling for Football II: Fall Harder

A 'delightful book'

Another day, another extract from Falling for Football - and this time it's a bit we've actually written. Many thanks if you've already bought the book, told your friends, or tweeted about it - it's much appreciated. We officially launched on March 10th and the book is available in paperback at www.ockleybooks.co.uk and electronically at http://amzn.to/1i2yDOx. And if that doesn't tempt you, here's the introduction to the book:

It’s easy to talk of high water marks. It’s arguably more difficult to encapsulate what made a period of time so special.

When we decided to stop merely ranting about football in one of London’s many watering holes (usually a Sammy Smith’s) and commit fingers to keyboards in 2010, little did we know what a fantastic journey we were about to embark upon.

Never Mind The Bollocks

"Yes, I WILL be doing this every week."

Close season transfer speculation/gossip/bullshit, for me, reached its zenith in the (probably balmy) summer of 1996. When my peers and I were young enough not to know better and had yet to be infected by pessimism, especially as England had come desperately close to their first final of my lifetime until that ultimate of bastards Andreas Moller snatched away the dream in a way only a bastard of German heritage can.

What If? #3 Wales: World Cup '58

Head like a traction engine

We've kept you waiting a week for the next installment of our What If? series. And you'll be glad we did. Here's the ever-superb Andi Thomas of Twisted Blood on a forgotten Welsh golden generation.

Sometimes, a word or phrase acquires, through association, a kind of toxicity. Though it may come from humble or well-meaning beginnings, and it may seem innocent when considered abstractly, it is failure that corrupts. So Francis Jeffers, by flopping at Arsenal, forever poisoned “fox in the box”. No chairman would dare propose that his club “live the dream”, thanks to Peter Ridsdale. The allure of Ruud Gullit’s “sexy football” was washed away during the Derby in the Rain. And, perhaps most vexed of all, the disappointed trudge from the fields of South Africa finally put paid, once and for all, to the hollow braggadocio of Adam Crozier’s “golden generation”.

Levein The Past Behind

Wonderful experience as it will be to see Scotland play Brazil at the Emirates, there are other subtexts within the national side that are masked somewhat by the occasion. The game itself will be the culmination – the final big lobotomy – of a therapeutic process that has been ongoing since Scotland failed to attack from a 4-6-0 in the Czech Republic and almost failed to win against Liechtenstein at Hampden, preceded, lest we forget, by a failure to convince in Lithuania in the very first game of the Euro 2012 qualifiers.

Teams That Made Us Fall In Love With Football #2: Nigeria 1996

Magic Spongers' own Adam Bushby throws his hat in the ring for this, the second in our 10-part series on teams that made us fall in love with football. Rose-tinted glasses time... 

My love affair with Nigeria began in the summer of 1994. My love affair with Africa as a whole had begun four years earlier in Italy, but those memories are hazy and clouded by vague recollections of tears and mimed ‘keep an eye on him’s. It was Gary Lineker’s accuracy from the penalty spot that prematurely ended my fling with Cameroon in Naples in 1990. And then history repeated itself as the similar rapier-like precision of a man nicknamed Il Divin Codino did for my affair with Nigeria in Boston. The Divine Ponytail, from the penalty spot at the Foxboro Stadium. Roberto Baggio stole Nigeria from me in 1994. I was ten years old.

FA Needs Futsal Up Arse

“How did players such as Luis Figo, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Robinho and Roberto Carlos develop skills that set them apart from other players?” the English FA’s website asks plaintively (and not unreasonably). “What did they do as youngsters that provided them with the basis to becoming some of the world’s best players?” it continues. Holy shit, I thought. The FA have cracked it. They’ve put two and two together and got four, rather than three or five or Prince William. The future of the nation’s youth development is finally upon us.

South America Steals World Cup

South Africa 2010 so far has actually been the World Cup of South America. In a tournament of bus, aeroplane and small country parking, they have found attacking football the pathway to serene progress; five apples among a plethora of onions.

While it might be said that qualifying from a group containing this current France side would be easier than Paris Hilton after a shot of Cointreau, Uruguay’s performance against South Africa was ruthlessly efficient and they have now qualified from Group A as winners. Argentina have too, from Group B, with Greece getting exactly what they deserved given they are apparently coached by Nigel Negative these days.

Less was probably expected from Paraguay, especially with the shocking incapacitation of Salvador Cabañas, but a battling draw against Italy, during which they defended manfully (read: dealt out a bit of a shoeing) and another fine and robust performance against Slovakia (read: dealt out a bit of a shoeing) resulted in four points and top spot in group F.

Despite Chile only mustering two 1-0 wins as a reward for their commitment to attacking, Marcelo Bielsa is at least staying true to form. Chile are wonderful to watch. And then Brazil, one bit of basketball from Luis Fabiano aside, have scored exclusively great goals in industriously notching up six points from six.

But why is this domain, in which barn door and banjo routinely come together so gloriously, solely the domain of the South Americans? The Dutch and Spanish have great attacking players and Germany started well but suffered a hiccup. The less said about the rest of Western Europe's representatives, though, the better.

Part of it certainly appears to be belief. On this blog in the past we have mentioned the apparent disparity between England's technical abilities and those of other nations. Look at the South American body language – they know they are technically adept and can keep the ball. It inspires confidence. They are also energetic and fiercely fit. If you get the ball off them you are hounded, whether by the Uruguay and Paraguay front three or by Brazil's two holding midfielders until you give it back. Shoulders rarely sag.

This belief serves them well in the face of obduracy. When North Korea kept Brazil out for 55 minutes in Johannesburg, they didn’t panic. They just kept knocking the ball around. When the goals came it was hard to see what all the fuss had been about at half time. Argentina too, even in a game against Greece they didn’t need to win, stuck to the task, none more so than the incredible Lionel Messi.

Should we even be surprised? With the exception of those players based in Europe, we didn't even really know who was coming. Hands up if you knew who Alexis Sánchez was before the Chile-Honduras match? Hands up if you’d really like your club to sign him? The majority of South American leagues hardly get a mention in our Europe-heavy coverage. Meanwhile, European leagues are exported around the word and at the same time, Europe remains blissfully ignorant of everyone else. This startling lack of insight has been more evident than ever in England press conferences, where media attention has centred on the EBJT soap opera and not on asking Capello, the players, or each other what they know about Slovenia. ‘Typically hard to break down’ would be about the most insightful thing you would get from the England camp.

The freshness around the now-famous five could well be literal. Those that ply their trade in South America have had the benefit of a winter break and, the argument goes, this will leave them more refreshed than their World Cup peers. All well and good, I suppose, until you look at Messi or Maicon or Forlan, all of whom (and Messi in particular against Greece) have had long seasons but continue to put in monumental shifts. Conspicuously few South Americans, funnily enough, play in the Premier League, meaning England’s top tier is either taxing the life out of good players from other nations, or it is crap.

We will, though, have to lose some South American sides at some point and the likelihood is that at least some of the knockout blows will be delivered by others from the same continent. At the moment, no one else looks like being able to stop them. Rob MacDonald

Brazil Spoil Korea-best Performance

People say England’s Brave John Terry (EBJT) is patriotic. For me though, patriotism in its purest form is bawling your eyes out during the national anthem. EBJT only cries when he loses, not before the game has even begun. But while tears preceded the Brazil v North Korea match, it was a smile that ended it. Finally, the World Cup became fun. Ever since the impossibly named Siphiwe Tshabalala’s beautiful strike in the opening game – despite a convincing German victory against the Aussies – the tournament has yet to lift off. But last night, the World Cup threw up a seeming mismatch that only the World Cup can. That it finished just 2-1 to the Brazilians should not result in denigration for the samba boys but high praise for the North Koreans. Most of us were wholly ignorant of them going into the tie and few will have greeted Ji Yun-nam’s composed finish with anything other than a massive grin.

Brazil did not thrash the North Koreans, so they must have been shit? Wrong. Kim Jong-Hun had his team militaristically organised. They were obdurate in the extreme, providing tireless running and throwing themselves into tackles and blocks. As far as bus parking goes, this was Mourinhoesque, with at least seven men behind the ball for the duration. But at the same time, as evidenced by their late goal, the Koreans were also dangerous on the counter. Rather than treading water, Brazil were made to work very hard for victory and should be happy with the result rather than despondent. They kept the ball moving across the pitch with panache and their ball retention was fantastic.

Criticism of Dunga’s style baffles me because 1970 and 1982 aside, when have Brazil ever played this ‘beach football’ for which they are so famous for 90 minutes? Four years ago, the defence was shielded by Emerson and Ze Roberto. Previous to that it was Edmilson and Gilberto Silva in Japan. And before then Dunga himself partnered first Mauro Silva in ‘94 and then Cesar Sampaio in ’98. Joga bonito has always come in glimpses as it did last night with a flurry of tricks from the boots of Robinho. Three lovely goals from open play were also welcomed, Maicon’s sublime finish being the pick of the bunch and the goal of the World Cup so far (yes I think he meant it). Oh and how good was it to see a side line up with a sweeper? North Korea might just be my favourite side right now.

Team ITV would have had you believe it was going to be double figures before the match started. I’m starting to get really pissed off with this laziness on behalf of the so-called pundits who are trotting out the same tired crap every game. Which is why I have decided to set up the League Against Unnecessary Gargantuan Hubris (aka LAUGH). If you would like to join me, simply chuck an apple or onion – doesn’t really matter which – at Adrian Child, Clive Titsley or Andy Bellend (yes, I am childish) every time they make an obnoxious or patronising comment about a side they know nothing about. Expect more of the same when the ‘plucky’ Hondurans take the field against Chile today. Last night’s game was a breath of fresh air. More of the same please. Adam Bushby