EXCITING - BUT THIS WORLD CUP HAS NOT YET ACQUIRED EPIC STATUS

BY JIM BLACK

FORGIVE me but isn’t it about time a little more realism was introduced into the World Cup.

Include me among the multitude of television watchers who are savouring the excitement and drama of Brazil 2014.

There has been goals aplenty, no shortage of memorable moments and occasional sheer brilliance. But while the finals have been compulsive viewing for those of us who worship “the beautiful game,” it also has to be said that some who earn their livelihood commentating and reporting on such events have gone slightly over the top.

The finals have already been hailed as great, but those who use the word epic are being a little less than circumspect, in my humble opinion.

Being of an age to remember 13 past World Cups – albeit I have only a hazy recollection of the grainy black and white television pictures of 1962 finals in Chile when the game was disgraced by the so-called “Battle of Santiago” featuring the host nation and Italy – I can think of others, notably Mexico 1970, that were more exhilarating.

Perhaps it is simply a case of the passing of time appearing to make what has gone before a little more appealing than it truly was, or have we have come to expect too much?

We were assured in advance of the opening match by those TV “experts” who salivate at their own self-importance that the world’s very best players would elevate us to heights never previously reached.

I refer to Neymar of the hosts, Argentina’s Lionel Messi, Portugal’s solitary man o’ war Christiano Ronaldo, Italy’s Andrea Pirlo and Uruguayan Luis Suarez, in particular.

But at this point in time only one of the five has truly delivered. Let me declare straightaway that I consider Suarez to be an odious individual, given that he is prone to “cheating” and sinking his teeth into opponents. But my dislike of the man cannot be allowed to disguise the brilliance of his ruthless destruction of an England team that chose to convince itself that injury would negate Suarez’s threat.

Scorer of both his side’s goals, Suarez delivered on the hype. Messi has still to do so fully while Ronaldo will not have the chance beyond the initial group stages and Pirlo may also make an earlier than expected exit from the tournament.

Pirlo, peerless against England was largely anonymous in the next match against Costa Rica. True, Messi scored two wonderful goals to drag Argentina to victories over Bosnia and Iran but for much of the time he failed to dominate the play in the way that his predecessor Maradona did.

Ronaldo, recently voted the best player in the world, produced one flash of spellbinding trickery against the USA, but he too failed to light up our television screens in the manner that had been predicted, albeit injury may have been a factor in his and Portugal’s failure to cope with the Germans’ ruthless efficiency and the Americans’ work-rate and enthusiasm.

Neymar, meanwhile, has been compared to Pele in almost hushed tones. On the evidence of his and Brazil’s performances against Croatia and Mexico it must be hoped that the volume remains turned down for the time being at least.

Few such claims of greatness were bestowed on the Dutch in the run-up to the finals. Yet in their opening match against the holders Spain the likes of Robin van Persie, Arjen Robben and Wesley Sneijder were a joy to behold – true masters of their craft.

There was an immediate temptation to tip Holland as probably winners at last after the heartache of being beaten finalists on three occasions. But what might have happened had Spain scored to go two-up? Holland’s subsequent displays against Australia and Chile also leave question marks as to their staying power and mindset to play as a team.

So, which country will emerge triumphant at the magnificent Maracana Stadium in Rio on July 13?

The Germans, ruthless against Portugal and decidedly unimpressive against Ghana, will no doubt be there or thereabouts, given their World Cup record, tenacity and military-like discipline and organisation.

Will Brazil overcome the frightening level of expectancy that has reduced some of their players to emotional wrecks and deliver a fifth world cup triumph?

Can Belgium’s hugely talented squad, strongly fancied as dark horses, gel as a unit? Will the French stay focussed and build on their impressive wins over Honduras and Switzerland?

Are Argentina more than just a one-man team? Do Italy and Uruguay have the necessary strength-in-depth to prevail whichever one of them survives in the wake of their unexpected defeats by Costa Rica?

With a raft of matches to be played there is still time for Brazil to host a truly epic Wold Cup. But for the time being the 2014 finals have been hugely exciting, thanks largely to a high rate of scoring. Its right to be acclaimed as more must be judged in relation to the performances that led to these goals.

One thing is certain though, come the winter chill on a Saturday afternoon spent watching Scottish Premiership football and we’ll all be reminiscing about the Boys who were at Brazil.

Still, there’s a chance that Ronny Deila may bring a smile to our faces by baring his backside when Celtic complete their stroll to the SPFL championship title around the middle of January.

We can also eagerly anticipate having a laugh or two at the annual Hibs manager crisis when Scottish football’s Frank Gallagher, the utterly shameless and blameless Rod Petrie sacks the latest incumbent and blames chief executive Madame Defarge, aka Leeann Dempster!

SO NOW WE’RE RACISTS, BLATTER? IT’S TIME FOR SEPP TO BE HUNG OUT ON A FAVELA CLOTHES LINE

BY BRYAN COONEY

　

MY No Grey Areas colleague, Andy Ritchie, often suggests there are some people in this world to whom you could not give a red neck, even with the application of a blowtorch.

He’s right on the money, of course. There are men and women who are resolutely resistant to self analysis and any degree of embarrassment. They refuse to acknowledge incriminating circumstances and appear purblind to damning evidence.

Sepp Blatter is one such pathetic person.

Not long ago, the Sunday Times revealed serious corruption at FIFA regarding the 2022 World Cup bid of Qatar: it was the embodiment of investigative journalism, an acclaimed antidote to the deliberations of the Leveson Inquiry.

Detailed, forensic stuff, worthy of any pathologist’s report, it thus became a contender to be the sports story of this, or probably any other, year.

Now, the stench of chicanery has never travelled far from the front door of football’s ruling body over the years - there have been regular, disturbing, fairly nauseous emissions of putrefaction along the way.

But an inspired Sunday Times team finally sourced the whereabouts of the alleged sewage farm, not to mention the alleged sewage farmer, one Mohamad Bin Hammam.

The baton of alleged guilt was figuratively handed on a serving platter to Blatter and his organisation. His next course of action should have been simplistic in the extreme. 

All he was required to do was his job, marshalling the forces of justice - and perhaps even retribution - in order that justice was served.

He should have thanked the Sunday Times for executing a job he and his minions should have been doing since he replaced the risible figure of Jose Havelange 16 years ago.

But, this was the world of FIFA, the corporate, corrupt, contaminated world of FIFA. Blatter and Co knew what lay underneath the old Axminster. Many others knew it. So, why would he wish to focus halogen lighting on the imperfections?

So, the Swiss septuagenarian responded with a message plucked from the gutter, if not the sewer: he accused British journalists of being discriminatory and motivated by racism.

Had this man no sense of shame, no sense of the differential between right and wrong? No, this was Joseph Blatter to whom we were referring. He exists in a fantasy land of his own creation and should be equipped with a technicolour dreamcoat.

Okay, if we must, let’s give some credit where it’s due. You cannot command the presidency of FIFA unless you possess the feral cunning of an urban fox.

Blatter believes himself to be the original Mr Fox. Importantly, he is familiar with the stultifying rules of political correctness. He feels that flourishing the racism card is the ultimate deterrent to those with investigative noses.

Accusations of racism tend to stifle and ultimately suffocate debate, because no-one truly wants to be subjected to this smear test. Just as important, however, the racist card also assists the guilty to nurture and pursue their perversities.

But alongside the foxiness there is also arrant foolishness. He has allowed his FIFA omnipotence to insulate himself against reality. I imagine that this is one occasion when the accusation is seen for what it is - a worthless and pathetic smokescreen.

Sponsorship and racism: words that are scarcely ideal bedfellows. The bedlam you may hear is the sound of the backers distancing themselves from his crass remarks.

How long before they distance themselves from the blue riband tournament itself.

And how long before those nice young men in their clean white coats come to take him away, after his latest diversionary tactic: interplanetary football? If he's serious, he's certainly inhabiting another world of delusion.

Whichever way you look at it, Blatter's miscalculation has been gross on a galactic scale.

It infuriates me that matters have arrived at this juncture. Today, we should be speaking about the 2014 World Cup which is kicking off in Brazil. We should be celebrating the feast that is upon us - and the behavioural patterns of the potential dinner guests.

What we want to know is: will Luis Suarez show on the world stage what he has been showing on the more parochial platforms of England? Can Andrea Pirlo begin to dismantle Roy Hodgson’s best-laid plans? And, could this be the ultimate coronation for Lionel Messi?

Yes, we should be concentrating wholeheartedly on the Beautiful Game. For the moment, until the action begins, there is a focus on its ugly sister. Or, to be factual, its ugly brother - that dreadful little martinet from Switzerland.

I must confess to a bit of jealousy hereabouts. How I would have loved to have been involved in all this. Until I retired through illness back in 2001, I was head of sport at the Daily Mail. We prided ourselves on penetrating the heart of matters, particularly in football.

Therefore, if we spotted anything of a dubious or indeed iniquitous nature, we used to kick backsides rhythmically and regularly. Such a policy was not flavour of the month in some quarters. Some people who should have known better were openly hostile.

I remember Howard Wilkinson, of the Football Association, confronting me as he emerged from the gents’ toilet at London’s Savoy Hotel. He had a question - as well as a gargantuan cigar - on his lips. “Obituaries, obituaries, obituaries. Whose obit is it going to be next?” he inquired.

“It might be yours,” I responded.

At a Football Writers’ dinner at the Royal Lancaster Hotel, I met the then Liverpool manager Gerard Houllier. I cannot say I was overly impressed, particularly when he began to harangue me about the way the paper approached football. “You don’t seem to like the game,” he said.

“The game itself is not a problem,” I retorted. “It’s just that I don’t like some of the people in it.”

That last sentence, more than ever, is applicable to a guy called Sepp Blatter. I trust they will hang him out on a favela clothesline very shortly.

He may be resistant to the threat of a blowtorch, but his dismissal is somewhat overdue.