dawson didn't even get a look in...

world cup review >> england

cheer up people, stop crying about the goal that never was. it's under seven weeks until the premier league kicks off again! less boo hoo and more woo hoo please! i for one can't wait to see:

- wayne rooney control a football.

- fat frank score 20+ belters from the edge of the area.

- glen johnson willing to chop down a rampaging opposition baring down on goal at the expense of a yellow card.

- steven gerrard orchestrate an entire game from CENTRAL midfield.

- matthew upson able to judge the flight of a pub league style 70 yard punt, and also not repeatedly sand wedge the ball out of play when in possession and under absolutely no pressure.

- john terry not believing he's playing a zidane type free-role and staying in his own half.

- five midfielders stretched across a midfield preventing their slick opposition passing the ball through them.

- and emile heskey remaining where he has spent most of his recent playing days, on the substitute's bench.

pretty much what we've just seen from our £100k per week players in south africa right? oh. maybe not.

and to top off all the embarrassment that has just passed, i've had to use up four of my transfers for my fantasy team. bloody cheers capello! cheers england!

warning! can cause permanent hearing damage and world cup heartache

world cup review >> england

while watching the make or break world cup nail biter between england and slovenia yesterday i experienced something for the first time during this tournament that i hadn't previously felt, joy. this was in part because of the win and the emergence of my favourite non-wolves player joe cole finally coming off the bench, but it was more down to the surprisingly clear head i was experiencing. this was not down to a lack of alcopops, no, this was because i heard something i hadn't heard for weeks in a football match... singing! ok, singing is not the right word to describe the vocal talents of a gang of fat naked bald men, let’s call it chanting! oh my god, i could actually hear the cries of our drunken brits abroad above those BLOODY VUVUZELAS! i could make out the drums and trumpets of our touring barmy army and i could hear our LOYAL support (fuck off rooney) passionately belting out our (just the right length) national anthem! amazing! my tv for the first time wasn’t on mute (it also helped that the game was on bbc rather than itv) because finally the headache-inducing swarm of a wasp hum was swatted by our lion's roar.

the england fans literally sang us into the next round. they are the twelfth man so many other countries crave, but we shouldn't need them. on paper we have some of the best players in the world (shame they have to play on grass then), but there are nations out there who really do need a 'twelfth man' - none more so than the host nation south africa. when south africa were effectively knocked out of the world cup in only their second game losing 3-0 to the fantastic forlan and his uruguain chums, i'm sure the south african players would have been boosted after going behind, by some patriotic chanting and encouragement rather than the ear drum-aching hooting and tooting from a plastic tube. maybe i'm missing the point that these are a symbol of south african history and culture, but this is modern day football and the encouraging swear word-filled songs give the players the confidence and kick up the backside that is sometimes lacking on a football pitch.

so come sunday when those of our boys who can't take their premier league form onto an international stage (fat frank) face those bloody kuntz, we'll once again need to be that twelfth man. let’s sing and swear our hearts out, and for gaaawd’s sake (and my ears’ health) leave the vuvuzella at home.

"fucking come on england!"

venire sull'inghilterra! (italian for "come on england!" - very roughly, cheers google)

world cup review >> england

fabio capello is loaded. fact. he earns a whopping £6 million a year, for overseeing about ten games a season. he picks up £500,000 a month to continually select a striker who has domestically scored less goals than the nigerian national keeper this season (the nigerian has 8, our lump of a forward heskey has 2), £115,384 a week to pick wright-phillips over adam johnson who he lost his place to at man city. £16,438 per day to continually ignore joe cole, the one player we have who is capable of unlocking the tightest of defences, £684 per hour to play gerrard, the most influential central midfielder in the world out of position on the left, £11.41 per minute to pick ledley king, a centre back with no cartilage remaining in his knee (yep, it's just bone on bone - ouch!), and 19p per second to blow on hair dye to stay looking 'fab'...

but before we turn on fabio capello, with his cute broken english, let’s remember we have probably the best manager in the world cup. tell a lie, actually the top dog is possibly the unofficial manager of north korea, kim jong-il whose conference call half-time team talks of "win or your family gets it" seem to get his repressed players fired up... i never said that by the way, before i face a firing squad.

in our £6 million a year man, we have a leader who oozes authority. he's been successful wherever he has been and perhaps half his problem is that he got us to the world cup with such relative ease that we seemed to all suddenly believe we were going to stroll through the tournament easier than a fox in an east london family home.

ok, so he's not perfect, some of his selections have left us all a little miffed (carragher?! - based on his apparent players in form policy, it should have been craddock!), but lets show some faith! this could still turn out to be amazing! in four weeks time he could be knighted for bringing home the custard covered arm cup. let’s for once ignore the ignorance of the daily mail et al and go mental for england and capello. wave your flags, paint your faces, get so drunk you forget robert green's next howler, shout at the tv, laugh, cry, but above all be grateful you're not north korean...

as strange as it may seem, there are wolves in south africa!

world cup >>

usa ’94, four years after the glories of italia 90; gazza’s tears, roger milla's jig and pavarotti's belly, we had a summer of ‘soccer’ to look forward to, albeit with no involvement from graham taylor’s less than mighty three lions.

from the moment diana ross missed a penalty in the opening ceremony i realised this world cup would only be appreciated with an open mind. i was 14, the plan was to watch the games at ‘yoof club’ with a bunch of girls i was trying to get off with. during the opening game (germany v bolivia) a girl who i won’t name (caroline) asked who the team were in black... give me strength! stupid questions aside this was a confusing time for a 14 year old boy. girls or football? girls or football? after caroline's question it had to be football... (the ref and linesmen if you still haven't got it).

the following weeks (at home, minus the distractions of ‘yoof club’) i found myself suddenly feeling and looking rather green thanks to wolves’ officially-world-cup-class striker david kelly taking his place in ireland’s squad of journey men, who qualified as irish thanks to their grandma’s next door neighbour visiting dublin once in the 60’s. after ray houghton’s winner against italy, my (now open) mind turned to setting loose a horse on the local council estate to mark my new adopted nationality*. so come this summer, with no wolves players in the once more mighty three lions squad (where's craddock?!) i’m supporting algeria. come on adlene guedioura! make wolves proud! oh hang on, just remembered algeria are in england’s group. bugger. make us proud anyway, just not against england…

*note to the rspca, this did not happen.