World Cup 2014: Today's Talking Point - The Case for the Defence

What else could we possibly talk about other than that defeat? Hosts Brazil, who haven't lost a home game since 1975, let in seven goals; five in nineteen minutes in the first half. The final score of 7-1 to Germany could have been greater. And every non-partisan supporter cheered for football.

The Brazilian team has been appalling in this World Cup. Their football has let them down; they have relied too much on Neymar and have left gaping holes in defence, as Germany exploited to their delight and Brazil's bemusement.

Brazil aren't the only ones; the defending at this World Cup hasn't exactly been spectacular. All the focus in the early stages was on Neymar, Suarez, Ronaldo, Messi, van Persie, Robben, and even Rooney, but no one bothered about what was going on (or not) at the back. The games in the group stages were largely goal-fests, which may have entertained the masses, but it didn't bode well for the future of football. It was clear that the teams that were going to succeed in this World Cup would be any one which paid equal attention to both ends of the pitch: bringing a fresh interpretation to the cliche, 'a game of two halves'.

But it was more than that. The tricks, flicks and flairs of traditional Brazilian football were infrequent in this tournament. Crowds have been turned off as the boys from Brazil have hacked, fouled, shoved, barged and kicked their way through to the semi-final. The fact that they have appeared to win more than their fair share of referee's calls has also looked ugly. It has been far from aesthetically pleasing, and football fans are unimpressed. And so there are very few regrets as the Germans go marching on. So long, samba; the party's over.

Tales of the Unexpected

England are through to the quarter-finals of the 2012 European Chanpionships. I wasn't expecting that! They topped their group, which was also unexpected, and they managed to defeat the co-hosts, Ukraine, with a single goal scored by Wayne Ronney (which is probably slightly more expected).

So next, England get to play Italy. I cynically suggested penalties would make an appearance as in the knocked-out-of-quarter-finals-due-to variety, but Him Outdoors insists that Germany must be part of that particular equation.

We haven't got the satellite package that allows us to watch the live games and have to make do with highlights each evening on terrestrial TV. Apart from the England games, which I get up in the middle of the night to follow on the Guardian live blog. It's anxious stuff sitting in the dark biting my nails by the glow of the computer screen, while the rest of the street/ city is alseep. I hope it continues, although I don't really expect it to...

Frighteningly good football



I don't usually blog about football teams other than the Mighty Reds, but, unable to sleep last night, I got up and watched Man Utd v Arsenal. What a game that was. It didn't help much with my insomnia.

The first thing I notice is that the Arsenal back four isn't working effectively, or in fact, at all. Their away strip makes them look like Wycombe Wanderers, which probably doesn't help, and Jenkinson is having an absolute nightmare; fouling left, right and centre, and arguing with his own team mates Walcott and Djourou on separate occasions. When he is sent off for a second bookable offense in the second half it is no surprise to anyone. The only novelty is a rare Rooney miss from the resulting free kick just outside the box.

A solid goal from Welbeck is followed swiftly by a saved penalty from Van Persie (doing wonders for De Gea's slim confidence) and a brilliant goal from Ashley Young. When Welbeck pulls up with a hamstring injury about five minutes later, I almost find myself feeling sorry for him. Are these boys warming up, properly, I ask myself (alarmed at how maternal I sound - fortunately there is only the cat to hear me).

Rooney's free kick is obvious to everyone (well, the commentators and me, anyway) and after touching it to Young to stop it dead, he slots it neatly into the top left corner. I've seen him do this before and am amazed that the Arse didn't defend better, or at all (what was that wall doing?). I'm even more amazed when he repeats the exact same thing in the second half with an unsurprisngly equal result. The commentator refers to the 'effervescent Man Utd side' and points out that Rooney is now the ninth highest Man Utd scorer - Giggs is eighth apparently.

Rosicky and Walcott combine for a goal in first half stoppage time, but it's also a defensive error. Later the commentator notes, "No one's bothering too much with their defending", which is a bit like saying "No one's watching the tactical manoeuvres at the beach volleyball". Statistics show that there are more shots on target from Arsenal in the first half and the possession is 51:49% which goes to prove that statistics are bollocks and Fun Boy 3 were right - It ain't what you do, it's the way that you do it.

3-1 at half-time and Wenger isn't looking happy. I predict things will get worse for him and his side, but the Old Trafford crowd singing, "You're getting sacked in the morning" is a bit harsh. As is, "You're sh&t and you've won f#$k all." And, "Going down, going down, going down." At the beginning of the second half, the Arse fans are singing 'We're gonna win 4-3" - bless them. Stranger things have happened, but not many.



A text book copy of the Rooney free kick (as previously mentioned), a lob from Nani and a blast from Park (who has only been on the pitch for about a minute) and it's 6-1. Rooney off the post is half an inch away from a hat-trick, and then a bit of pin-ball wizardry in the Man Utd goal mouth leads to a goal for Van Persie. At 6-2 he doesn't celebrate as wildly as he might, but the Arse fans are still chanting "We love you Arsenal" - I notice Wenger isn't joining in.

When Walcott brings down Hernandez and a penalty is awarded, Rooney does indeed get his hat-trick. "Hat-trick hero in seventh heaven" spouts the commentator thinking he is a headline writer for the News of the World without realising that it no longer exists and that Ashley Young's perfectly placed second goal (and the best of the night) is about to take the score to 8-2.

And that's how it finally ends. The comparisons with the Busby Babes may be a bit premature, but no one (not even me, and believe me, I would if I could) can argue with the quality of Man Utd's strike-force today. I have to say I am impressed with the Arse fans who remain in the stands to applaud their team as they trudge desultorily off the pitch. I am very happy with Liverpool's win over Bolton and the fact that we are looking pretty good. But I can't deny that Man Utd are looking brilliant. So I make myself a Horlicks and go back to bed.

In My Red Heaven



What a fantastic result from an excellent game. I know it's just one game, and one for which we were always going to make a considerable effort, and you can't use it as a barometer for the rest of the season, and yet I can't help but allow myself a glimmer of hope that my team are back. We didn't even miss Master Sulky-chops as Suarez played to near perfection. The goals were all tapped in by Kuyt, but the brilliance belonged to Suarez, and maybe to King Kenny for some judicious transfer moves. Andy Carroll is yet to prove himself, but it was good to see him come off the bench for 16 minutes of play.



The mighty reds were absolute angels, darting nimbly around the pitch (even Carragher wasn't caught out of position too often - bless his Liver cotton socks) while the washed out whites (appalling kit from the red shite) were either totally ineffective (Berbatov was their only decent player - Rooney was so annonymous I only knew he was on the pitch when I heard the swearing) or dirty, cheating bastards. Him Outdoors says, 'They don't like it up them!' (It's true - half of his vocabulary comes from Dad's Army which is made only sadder when you realise the rest comes from Bull's Eye).

I'd have handed out at least three red cards for foul play (Van Der Sar - you can't elbow people in the neck just because you didn't realise you can't be off-side when the ball is played back to you; Rafael - attacking the ref in petulant display of temper tantrums is not a good look for anyone over the age of three; Nani - just because you're not getting your own way, kicking people is still wrong and if you can leap up and sprint to the ref in Rumplestilstkin rage, why do you need to be carried off on a stretcher?) and I'm hardly biased at all. In fact, I conceed that Carrager deserved his yellow for a fairly nasty foul on Nani although the latter's miraculous 'recovery dash' did nothing to further his cause.

SKY's halftime commentary featured the question - who has hit the goalposts the most in this season's premier league? Answer: Steven Gerrard. For what he lacks in subtlety, the man certainly has passion and whether the ball is sailing high, wide and none-too handsome into the stands or sinking sweetly into the back of the net, there is no question that 'he twatted that' as my friend Jersey Girl used to say. He blasted a few inches wide in the second half - I read a ridiculous comment that we might not need him any more at Anfield - just behave yourselves!

Kenny Dalglish responded with a smile and a wave as the Kop sang Happy Birthday to him - how cool would that be? Fergie the red-nosed w@#%er was in somewhat lesser spirits - he'll be off to blame the ref and his side's injuries - they hadn't got Vidic and Ferdinand; we didn't have Kelly, Agger or Aurelio after 24 minutes - and I'd be very surprised if he actually gives credit to the opposition (I'll bet he supports the All Blacks).

Of course I don't want the wrong side of Manchester (i.e. Salford) to win their 19th league title and hence one more than us - even my optimism has bounds; I know this is out of our grasp this season. I may even have to support Arsenal in the upcoming crucial games, and so might the red half of Mersyside. But this game wasn't about the title; it was about football, and we just played it better. End of.

Sick as a parrot

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. It's amazing how a group of blokes kicking a ball around a pitch can totally ruin your day. I am so gutted by this morning's non-performance that I can barely string a coherent thought together.

We went for a bike ride around the Wakatipu Basin later. The sky was blue, the sun was shining and the scenery was stunning. But I still felt sick to my stomach. I'm not sure I would go so far as to boo the boys, but certain of them were definitely lacking in sparkle. Here's looking at you Wayne!

Now we 'just' have to win our next match and hope the USA don't win theirs. It's still all on. I'm not sure my nerves are up to it.