End of the 'golden generation'

Long-standing readers of this blog - if there are any - will doubtless have noted the distinct lack of blogging on the 2010 World Cup thus far compared with 2006. Partly it's a symptom of changing times. Life was considerably less busy back then - only one child, a house and garden that needed little doing to it, a considerably less demanding role at work than the one I now hold.

But really those are just excuses. The main reason I haven't blogged on the World Cup until now is that England's performances in it were so dire it was moreorless impossible to summon up the requisite degree of enthusiasm.

I don't think I was by any means alone in this. Friends who were happy to come round to our place and drink beer at 8am in the morning for England's early-morning kick-offs during the Japan-South Korea tournament in 2002 seemed oddly resistant to footie-related get-togethers this time round.

Is it that we are eight years older and wiser? Or is it simply that England are just shite?

Each World Cup is, in one sense, an opportunity to relive the experiences of the previous ones. Some football fans of a slightly older vintage than myself still long to repeat the thrill of our 1966 triumph, the more so perhaps as it recedes further and further into the dim and distant past.

But I was too young to remember much about that. For me, it is Italia '90 which continues to cast a shadow over each subsequent tournament, Sir Bobby Robson's men who continue to make each subsequent England team suffer by comparison.

They called this the 'golden generation,' but Capello's motley crew couldn't hold a candle to that lot. Sure, on paper you would rate John Terry a better player than Terry Butcher, Steven Gerrard above David Platt, Wayne Rooney above Peter Beardsley even. But they wouldn't play for Fabio like those boys played for Sir Bobby twenty years' back.

And with such evident lack of passion on the pitch when compared to the England teams of old, how on earth could we fans be expected to work up the same level of excitement as of yore?

The general consensus in the papers this week has been that the 2014 generation of potential World Cup players is considerably less gifted than the present one, although it is surely too early to say whether the likes of Jack Rodwell, Kieran Gibbs, Jack Wilshere and Conor Wickham will go the way of Rooney and kick-on to world-class status, or flatter to deceive in the manner of other one-time prodigies such as Theo Walcott and David Bentley.

But it need not necessarily be a handicap. The only truly world-class players in our World Cup-winning side in 1966 were the goalkeeper, Gordon Banks, the captain, Bobby Moore, and midfield fulcrum Bobby Charlton. Were they not national heroes, some of the others would almost have qualified for the description 'journeymen.'

The difference was that Sir Alf moulded them into an effective unit, much as Sir Bobby somewhat serendipitously managed to do with his charges in 1990.

If someone - Martin O'Neill perhaps - can do that four years from now, then perhaps the flame of that unforgettable summer may yet flicker into life again.

England: The inquest

What to say about England's elimination from the World Cup by Portugal in a penalty shoot-out after having their star player sent off? Well, in one sense, you really couldn't make it up, in that if you had done, everyone would have gone: "Nah, that couldn't possibly happen again now, could it?"

But lightning does, it seems, strike twice in the same place, in that what happened on Saturday was precisely what happened against Argentina in 1998 when Beckham was sent-off and then David Batty missed in the shoot-out to condemn England to defeat.

All the national newspaper pundits have had their say, and there's no point me linking out to them all. But for me the best summing-up of the selectorial and tactical mistakes by which Sven-Goran Eriksson blighted England's challenge came from the Observer's Paul Wilson.

"By the time Eriksson had taken a blind leap of faith over Walcott and decided four strikers would be plenty even if two of them were injured, he appeared to be behaving as if distracted...his entire philosophy now seemed to be based on the premise that you might as well hang for a sheep as for a lamb, and so the cautious, studied approach disappeared in favour of bizarre selections and a new formation every week. And still England played terribly."

Quite. But I think that, collectively, the national media - and I'm not singling out Paul Wilson or any other individual here - can sometimes be guilty of 20/20 hindsight in relation to such issues.

To me, it was obvious from the start that this squad had been poorly selected, and that as a result of that, the team was performing poorly and Eriksson failing to make the best use of the available talents at his disposal.

Yet the papers, for quite understandable reasons, seem to see it as their patriotic duty to get behind our boys and not question too closely either the validity of the team selections of the effectiveness of the performances, even if these things are staring them in the face.

Take Theo Walcott, for instance. There should have been a press campaign against this crazy selection, ahead of Jermaine Defoe. Instead they simply took it on trust that Eriksson knew what he was doing, and that the untested 17-year-old really could become England's latest World Cup hero. In fact, Eriksson himself didn't even believe in him.

Similarly, the media have been muted in their criticisms of Frank Lampard who was, to put it bluntly, not worth his place in the team in this tournament. He was obviously trying too hard to score and his presence in central midfield inhibited Steven Gerrard, the one player apart from Rooney who could have won the thing for us.

Eriksson's reluctance to drop one of his stars distorted the team formation throughout the campaign, forcing him into playing a negative 4-5-1 when we would have been far better off with Rooney and Crouch up front and Gerrard at the head of a midfield diamond.

World Cups are often about discovering your best formation. That's what happened in Italia '90. If England had not switched to 3-5-2 in that tournament when Bryan Robson went home injured, we'd never have got near the semi finals. And of course we only discovered Geoff Hurst in '66 as a result of an injury to Jimmy Greaves.

For my part, I never believed England could win this World Cup. Yes, we had the players to do it, but not the management capable of getting them to play together as a team. I am far more shocked by the elimination of Argentina, whom I am happy to admit I tipped for glory at the outset and who possessed, in Juan Roman Riquelme, the player of this tournament

At the start of this World Cup, I listed my Top 10 World Cup memories, and reminiscences of Italia '90 inevitably loomed large in that. Sadly, there is nothing from the 2006 tournament that I will be adding to that list.

What was so memorable about the challenge by Bobby Robson's men was that it was so unexpected, in contrast to this over-hyped side and their over-hyped manager who somehow managed to convince a nation that we had a genuine chance of the world's greatest prize.

It's not all doom and gloom. In 2010, Rooney will be in his prime. Robinson, Terry, Gerrard, Hargreaves (a star yesterday), Joe Cole and Aaron Lennon could still be around to form the nucleus of a new team. It's not a bad basis on which to build.

But as for Sven, it really is goodbye...and good riddance.

Update: Throughout the World Cup, I have helped produce a series of podcasts with colleagues on the this is...network of websites. Now England have packed their bags, we're hanging up our mikes, but our final verdict on England's campaign can be heard HERE.

Politics or football - take your pick!

My two latest podcasts are now live online, one focusing on the World Cup and the other on the past seven days in politics.

The World Cup podcast, put together with colleagues on the thisis network of regional websites, focuses not unnaturally on England's efforts against Ecuador yesterday and their prospects for next weekend's Quarter Final encounter with a weakened Portugal team.

My colleagues are very upbeat about England's chances of making the Final but I remain cautious - I don't really think the experiment of playing Rooney on his own upfront is the best use of the player, and I still maintain a choice will eventually have to be made between Gerrard and Lampard in midfield if we are to get the best out of either.

Anyway to hear the podcast in full, click HERE.

Meanwhile the weekly politics podcast, acompanying my weekly Saturday column, focused on Gordon Brown's nuclear bombshell, and what it could mean for the chances of an "orderly transition."

It can be listened to HERE with the text version available HERE.

Alastair Campbell launches World Cup blog

I originally thought this was a spoof, but yes, it would appear to be the genuine Alastair.

Whatever his record in British politics, and I personally take the view that, with the sole exception of Rupert Murdoch, his has been the most baleful influence on British public life over the past decade, I've always thought he talked a certain amount of sense when it came to football, so accordingly, he can have a link on this blog!

You can access the great man's views HERE. Hat tip: Skipper.

My Top 10 World Cup Memories

Like most fortysomethings I'm a great one for nostalgia, and at World Cup time there's nothing so nostalgic as watching all those TV replays of great World Cup goals from the past and remembering where you were and what you were doing at the time. So here, with thanks to Nick Hornby for making this sort of thing respectable, are my Top 10 World Cup Memories.

1. When Lineker Scored, 1990. From a purely footballing point of view, Italia '90 was not one of the the greatest World Cups. There was no single outstanding player to touch the likes of Pele, Cruyff and Maradona, and it was eventually won by a workmanlike German side after a terrible final against Argentina. But this was the tournament which re-ignited the British public's love affair with football, thanks to England's unlikely run to the semis and the artistry of Paul Gacoigne. I watched the semi final against Germany at the Rifleman's Arms in Belper with my then housemate David Gladwin, occasional poster on this blog and one of the best friends I will ever have in this life. Germany scored a freak goal, an Andy Brehme free-kick that struck Paul Parker and looped over Peter Shilton's head, and we began to resign ourselves to the loss of our improbable World Cup dream. And then...and then...in the 81st minute, Gary Lineker got hold of a long through-ball, held-off the German defence and squeezed the ball into the far corner. The pub went wild. More wild than any place I have ever been in my life. And though we went on to lose that penalty shoot out, it was a moment we will both savour for ever.

2. Marco Tardelli, 1982. I love the Italians and will always support them against any other team in the world except England. So when they played Germany in the 1982 final, I was desperate for them to succeed. Apart from anything else, they had beaten the best team in the tournament, Brazil, in a thrilling 3-2 encounter, while the Germans had fouled their way to a semi-final victory against France memorable chiefly for Harold Schumacher's disgraceful assault on Patrick Battiston. The final began tentatively, but when Marco Tardelli scored to put Italy 2-0 up, victory for the Azzuri was assured. Arms pumping, hair flying, the blond midfielder ran towards the touchline, his face contorted in an upwelling of pure joy. It was the finest outpouring of emotion ever seen on a football pitch, and the greatest goal celebration of all time.

3. Ballet, 1970. I was seven at the time of the time of the greatest World Cup tournament in history, and I can't say I remember having watched any of the matches from beginning to end. But as the competition went on and began to dominate more and more dinner-time conversation, I became dimly aware of everyone raving about this player whose name sounded like "belly" or "ballet" or something, and as small children do, I instantly adopted him as a hero. In the final, Brazil took on Italy and we all settled down to watch. "Ballet" scored the opening goal, a header of towering dimensions, and my interest in the game satiated, I took myself off to play in the garden, thus missing the Carlos Alberto goal that I would now rank as the greatest ever.

4. A Touch of the Cruyffs, 1974. Four years on, Brazil were a shadow of the 1970 side, and their two central defenders, Luiz Pereira and Ze Maria, were the dirtiest players I have ever seen. At the opposite end of the artistic spectrum, the Dutchman Johan Cruyff was probably the most sublime. In Holland's opening match against Uruguay he perfected the famous "Cruyff swerve," turning a hapless opponent near the dead ball line and prompting David Coleman to exclaim: "He's left him for dead!" Later, in the semi-final, Cruyff's Holland came face to face with the Brazilians, and completely destroyed them, Cruyff scoring a goal after getting on the end of a sweeping move he had initiated, and Ze Maria being deservedly sent off. Sadly they lost the final to the Germans, but Cruyff had done enough to ensure his place in World Cup history.

5. England finally catch fire, 1986. England made a farcical start to the 1986 tournament, losing 0-1 to Portugal and then drawing 1-1 with Morocco, a match in which Ray Wilkins managed to get himself sent off for throwing the ball at the referee. Bryan Robson had also been injured, so his managerial namesake Bobby had to reshape the side, teaming Peter Reid with Glenn Hoddle in central midfield, and Gary Lineker and Peter Beardsley up front. The results were instantaneous, a 3-0 victory against Poland which I watched, joyously, with my housemates at the student digs we shared in Sheffield. It was a carefree time between the end of my full-time studies and my entry into the world of full-time work. The exams were over, the sun was shining, and there was nothing to do but watch the footie and drink beer.

6. The Bridge Street hold-up, 2002. Twelve years on, and David Gladwin and myself were back in Belper and back at the Rifleman's Arms for the England v Argentina group match. England needed to win this one. A dull 1-1 draw against Sweden in the opening game had left us struggling for points with another potentially difficult game against Nigeria to come. Thankfully Argentina were not the side they had been in the Maradona years, and a scorching Michael Owen run into the box earned a penalty which David Beckham converted. There then followed the tensest hour of football watching in my life as we battled to hold onto our lead. When the whistle blew, the entire pub spilled out onto Bridge Street, temporarily halting traffic along the main A6 route through the town, but I doubt if the drivers minded much.

7. Caniggia gets his come-uppance, 1990. My choice as the funniest moment in World Cup history for all sorts of reasons. The Argentine forward Caniggia, who wore his hair a bit like the early Brigitte Bardot, had been a star of the 1986 tournament, but had lost a yard of pace by Italia ' 90 and was meat and drink for the tough Cameroonian defenders in the opening match. One of these was the aptly-named Massing, a huge defensive midfielder whose favoured method of dealing with difficult opponents was to up-end them. Eventually he sent Caniggia flying and was sent off, prompting Ron Atkinson to reveal his true colours. "I hope his mother isn't watching," said commentator Brian Moore. "She's probably up a tree somewhere," replied Big Ron. Amazingly, it was to be another 14 years before he was sacked for making racist outbursts on live TV.

8. Lorimer Strikes, 1974. My mum's family all supported Arsenal. My dad's family all supported Tottenham. So as a youngster I resolved this potentially lethal family conflict by supporting Leeds. Okay, so it was a bit like North London youngsters opportunistically supporting Man U or Chelsea today - they were the top side in the country at the time. But I embraced them with a fervour and none more so than Peter Lorimer, who played in my schoolboy position of No 7 and who had the hardest shot in the game. So when he fired Scotland into the lead against Zaire in the 1974 finals with a trademark piledriver from the edge of the area, I leapt for joy. Sadly, a virtually identical goal a year later for Leeds in the European Cup Final was disallowed for offside.

9. Tears and the Clown, 1973. Like most football crazy 11-year-olds, I was looking forward to watching England compete for the 1974 World Cup in Germany, but our hopes were shattered by the 1-1 draw against Poland in October 1973. This was really my worst World Cup memory, but it makes this list simply because it was such an unforgettable game. Time and again, England rained shots on the Poland goal only to be defied by 'keeper Jan Tomaszewski, whom Brian Clough had branded a "clown." What is forgotten is that England were effectively playing with ten men, the Tottenham centre-forward Martin Chivers having one of his frequent off-days. By the time England actually took part in a World Cup again, in 1982, my childhood was over.

10. 1966 And All That. Okay, so I don't really remember it. I was three at the time, and even though I clearly remember the TV pictures of the Aberfan coal mining disaster which took place just a matter of months later, I cannot claim to recall seeing Geoff Hurst or Martin Peters bang in any of their goals. But I do nevertheless have a very dim recollection of something happening, of neighbours' walls being thumped on, mum and dad getting excited, and people pouring out of their homes onto our little suburban street in North London to celebrate. Looking back, I think we all underestimate what a great achievement it really was, and how much we owe to "that marvellous man Alf Ramsey" as my dad called him. One day, no doubt, we'll win the thing again - but they don't make 'em like him any more.

World Cup podcast goes live

I did warn you that there would be the odd reference to the World Cup on this blog over the next few weeks...so here's a plug for the World Cup podcast I've put together with two colleagues on the this is website team, Simon Delaney and Ste Ashworth.

Simon and Ste are fairly upbeat about England's chances, with or without Wayne Rooney, so it's left to me to bring a bit of balance and perspective, notably over Sven's bizarre decision to take only four forwards, one of whom is injured, one of whom is not 100pc match-fit, and another of which has never started a Premiership match.

You can hear the podcast by clicking here and following the links.

My hot World Cup tips: Winners: Argentina. Star player: Juan Roman Riquelme. Surprise package: Australia. England's prospects: Semi finalists. Venue of choice for watching the games: The Rifleman's Arms, Bridge Street, Belper, Derbyshire.

Peter Crouch, eat your heart out

No matter how much body-popping robotic dancing England striker Peter Crouch manages over the next few weeks, this will surely never be beaten as the greatest England goal celebration of all time.


PS Advance warning to fellow politicos - this blog may well feature more footie-related stuff between now and July 9!