World Cup Legends #178: Héctor Castro

Today's game is mostly about the athlete. African nations are being talked up largely thanks to their pace and power over 90 minutes, no one ever writes off northern European teams and Spain and Brazil now mix their traditional technique with more solid physique and tactical nous.

Not even your Grandad could say its not how it used to be. When they were out fighting the Great War in Europe in 1917, young Hector here was chopping his forearm off with an electric saw. Not to worry, Hector pressed on with a career as one of Uruguay's finest players, becoming an Olympic champion and then World Champion at the inaugral FIFA World Cup. His goal in that final was the last word in the tournament.

Imperfect as he may have appeared, Castro was tough as old boots, as well as the old balls they used in the thirties, and would often nail foes with his stump, Harald Schumacher style. Suppose they couldnt accuse him of elbowing.

Players to watch #178: Robert Koren

I can't help but focus on Group C and the opportunities it launches directly down England's collective national esophagi. Nor can I help using the early stages of this list to make examples of some teams by their best known personnel. Robert Koren is a leading light at the Hawthorns, but lets remember where the Hawthorns lies. WBA are an exciting side at the second tier and a good bet for promotion, but next season is bound for chain after everlasting chain of dismally disappointing Premiership defeats.

Koren is also a leading light at Slovenia. Their recent history of shock qualifications for major tournaments should show that if a stronger side were to assume an easy ride they will be inviting a humiliating slap in the face. I'm sure Hiddink wasn't so lax in attitude over two legs and now look at him.

Still, England are playing at the World Cup finals and with a man like Capello holding the flag of promise rather than umbrella of despair this summer, we should be near the top of our game and with the workrate that should be standard for this side, we could dispose of Koren and Slovenia in 45 minutes and still afford to look all cagey for the remainder. I wouldn't even say different about both the other Group C team's chances against Matjaz Kek's boys.

World Cup Legends #179:Pak Doo-Ik

If we cannot remotely imagine a future containing 'Asia's surprise package' in any other form than writhing in its internally-inflicted doom, then we can at least try to relay the past with some accuracy. So I bring to you the legend of Pak Doo-Ik.

Somehow appearing in England in 1966, North Korea sensationally disposed of two-time champions Italy 1-0 thanks to the Pak. Drama followed them to the quarter finals where they took a three goal lead against Portugal and then surrendered it to the great Eusebio, who was having the tournament of his life, and losing 5-3.

They shall finally meet again in the summer. Pak was a military man and received great honour for his part, though it is said that many of his teammates were executed for their ultimate failure. And yet many North Koreans still believe their team to e out there fighting. It is commonly believed that this was a war in which N.Korea captured the nation of Italy and battled westward along the Mediterranean where they fell in Lisbon.

Perhaps we should not be expecting a 23 man squad to arrive in South Africa as much as a 23 tonne nuclear warhead aimed at the visiting Emperor Cristiano. Making my means of travel rather well considered in comparison.

Players to watch #179: Hong Yong-Jo

Its hard to write anything about North Korea. Officially, or according to the State, this man doesn't exist, yet in the Russian town of Rostov he is a known striker and rumoured as the primary goal threat for his 'wildcard' national side. Can't say that about many North Koreans but I have sworn to make a contribution about every nation heading to the same destination as myself (albeit by wiser means). Something doesn't quite add up...

179 days to go: Ah, balls.

That was a tremendous start to the blog. I failed to make the posts I was intending to make yesterday until this afternoon.

So my physical journey began. I took the tube to Wembley Central yesterday afternoon, kissed the concrete outside (couldn't get to the hallowed turf) and marched down the A404. No crowds around to wave nobly to as the ICExperience Skating Extravaganza was cancelled. Wonders never cease.

I'm travelling light. It annoys me that I'm carrying a 20 pack of smokes and not 10, so there's no way I'll consider a tent or any survival gear or anything. I'm heading south to where its warmer anyway. Mighty shattered by the time I reached Marble Arch I can tell you, but I pressed on, crossing Waterloo Bridge with thoughts of a quarter final with France in mind. There's never been a better time to take them on I swear. This draw has been good to us. But it was already dark and everything became much worse. I was ready for bed long before I reached the M25. Never try this under any circumstances.

I bedded down in a B&B near East Grinstead. At this stage I was chatting to local about my plans as I realised I hadn't really told anyone in person to gauge their reaction. He was full of enthusiasm for me until I spoke of the plans for the following day, and he kind of went all quiet.

Now when I was crossing Waterloo Bridge I had envisioned something like the Normandy Landing. I have packed both my Speedos and a P&O Ferries leaflet, but I intend to do this the hard way. He eventually warned me that my planned departure from Hastings, at this time of year especially, would result in my death. I don't even have a swimming hat. My only hope is to head to Dover, which is miles away. Still, two free Penguin biscuits at the B&B!

Anyway I had to check out almost before dawn this morning so I pressed on to Dover. I'd like to say I'm nearly there but not really. There is basically nothing in Kent. This has been a frighteningly bad error early on. More positive updates tomorrow.

World Cup Legends #180: Jorge Burruchaga

And so we start our countdown of classics with a World Cup winning goalscorer. 'Burru' was a midfielder in Carlos Bilardo's Argentina side of 1986. Inspired as a boy by their 1978 home victory, he rapidly grew in popularity despite the similarity of his name to 'Burro', spanish for donkey. I always wondered how he might cope. But donkey he was not as he took the honour of receiving Maradona's sublime pass and netting a 3-2 winner over a resiliant German side, who had come back twice from behind. So resiliant in fact that four years later the final threw up a rematch, a rather more sombre affair, which the Germans won. 1-0. That settles that then.

Players to watch #180: Mahjid Bougherra

Magic Bougherra? Are you kidding me?! The former Sheffield Wednesday, Charlton and now Rangers supremo is leaving a trail of failed clubs in the wake of his unglorious career, and being a definite starter for Algeria next summer, I defy those few who warn of troubled times ahead for the England camp.

I'm sure they have a few technically gifted players in the middle of the park, but do not give me Zidane references, there is no one accomplished enough for what lies ahead. He will be sharing the back line with Portsmouth's Belhadj, who I view in only a marginally less patronising light.

180 days to go: Road to the World Cup

Fantastic. I don't know what the real significance of 180 is, I mean its roughly six months but who cares about months? No one counts months anymore. I suppose its 2x90, I should have saved this for a 90 day countdown, only I would have forgotten and missed the boat.

So to mark this day with a real and poignant purpose for this blog, I have decided to set off on a trek to South Africa. In all honesty I have left it slightly late to make the first game in Johannesburg on the 11th June. I'm not really a big walker, I tend to take taxis and buses, jack cars and things, but I could shed a few pounds and see some sights in the process.

So, I leave err... I leave London today (don't live anywhere near London) and head due South (like an idiot would) and if I make around 31.6 miles per day, which is a good ten hours of steady walking, broken by naps and conveniently placed hotels with appropriate bar and restaurant facilities, things should work out. I should magically set foot in the apocryphal 'Soccer City' in time to get a matchday programme, not one of those annoying buzzy vuzvenezuela horn things, and a lion burger or whatever they serve for the best part of £20 outside the grounds. Suppose I don't have a ticket but I'll swindle something. Probably pay on the turnstiles.

So I'm packing my laptop and a giant hipflask for whisky or rum. Why people take water with them I'll never know. Doesn't even taste good. I'll be on the road from now on, posting at you more or less daily provided I find some good wifi hotspots regularly enough. In the meantime I'll make use of my reliable ISP, who I will miss dearly, to bring you the first installments of the Burru and 'Magic' Bougherra. Ha!

Cheerio!


*****

~Returns~
...forgot my wallet...
~leaves~

Introduction: One hundred and eighty err... one days to go.

My oh my.

A week since the Official Draw for the World Cup and associated ceremonies and the globe is giddy with anticipation, or they would be if it wasn't half a year away.

So, I have been employed by the Excitement Corporation, a subsidiary of Keeping The World Revolving Holdings, to fervently poke and hassle you re: the pending landmark tournament of the worlds finest game, the iconic event of our planet's poorest continent in these times of almost unchecked globalisation, to bring you the message that yea, football is art, is theatre, is beauty is passion is life. You can make it through these torrid wintery months, mouse in hand, Outlook calender at the ready to bagsy those key dates despite the mrs so decided on a June holiday before the prices really hike, for there is much to behold...the journey is the greatest part.

Many of you will be holding strong. There is the Premiership, gripping you with interest - could maybe, perhaps come May, there be a... a new team in the top four? Really? Frightening isn't it. But there will be the usual dives, feigning of injury, questionable refereeing, timekeeping issues in Southwest Manchester. Who's going down then? Inevitably a combination of whoever just came up, whoever paid some average footballers far too handsomely a couple of years ago, possibly you, and certainly Nigel Quashie (or whoever he's playing for right now. Officialy still West Ham).

There's football elsewhere - who's coming up? It matters not one Jot, unless they have a bag of money, and then more money because there aren't really any bags big enough to carry the required amount. Certainly not in cash. Who was that football league team who's ground we never went to? Oh, there they go, administration bound, one by one falling out of the Football League.

Worry not. I have for you the most emphatic build up, in daily installments possibly barring public holidays. The best, the greatest, the glorious history and the profound future that awaits us: the FIFA (hate those b*stards) World Cup.


nb. I'm aware its 181 days but I feel rude not introducing the blog, and tomorrow, look there really isn't time.
I also take no responsibility for the presence of cheating, simulation, red cards ruining games, negative play, penalty shootouts involving your nation and the presence of Germany in the finals of World Cup 2010. You just have to grin and bear it alright?