World Cup Review – Quarter Finals

Whisper it very quietly, if you must say it at all, but football might – only might, mind – be about to come home.

There’s a long way to go; but then it’s been a long journey already via Big Sam Allardyce, Slovakia and Slovenia (still get those two mixed up), Hampden Park, Lithuania, Volgograd, Nizhny Novgorod, Kaliningrad, Moscow and Samara but now England are just ninety minutes (although more likely 120) away from a World Cup Final.

In a World Cup that just isn’t like a World Cup at all. It’s brilliant, unpredictable, exciting and has now only got European teams in it as the last of the South American teams, Brazil, bowed out on Friday evening. The sigh of relief from the VAR machines, barely required since, could be heard all the way to the Kamchatka Peninsula.

But the biggest difference from other World Cups? England.

Their last eight tie against Sweden was quite relaxed by England standards. A gentle Saturday afternoon stroll in the sun. Well almost. There was very little of the things – anxiety, heartbreak, nervous rash and family feuds – that I usually associate with a World Cup Quarter Final. To be fair, my TV was playing the match with about a minutes delay compared to the one that a large family group were watching a few houses away so I got advance warning of the goals and that took some of the tension away, but the team were so composed, there was an inevitability about the outcome from the moment Jordan Pickford made his first world class save of three after 47 minutes.

England went into the game after overcoming Colombia’s “shithousery” (the art of attempting to win a game via any means possible including pushing, elbowing, play acting head butting, scuffing up the penalty spot or waiting for a player to die of old age by delaying him taking a penalty for so long) but the Swedes were a different kettle of fish, relying on good old fashioned Premier League football played by Championship players. It was a mismatch. Diego Maradona had said England had stolen the match by cheating against his adopted Colombia (a bit like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man saying someone looks pasty and is a bit soft) but he’d have found it difficult to argue a similar case for the Scandinavians to deserve to still be here in Russia.

At the end, there were scenes of unbridled joy as fans celebrated with some familiar – and not so familiar – songs. Three Lions I expected, but I admit the Atomic Kitten one with the line ‘Gareth Southgate, you’re the one’ caught me a little by surprise. But then, so much is new about this England that the only thing you can expect from them, and this World Cup on the whole, is the unexpected.             The last time England reached a semi-final of a major tournament was Euro ’96, when those Three Lions were born courtesy of David Baddiel and Frank Skinner. Two years later, a reprised version – with an extra two years of hurt – was released for the World Cup in France, when England’s players decided to amuse themselves by getting as many song lyrics into TV interviews as they could.

How immature.

And after a last-16 defeat to Argentina, maybe they should have stuck to the football. But after the heroics of 1990, it would be a while until they saw a quarter final again. I wasn’t born when England used to reach that stage with consistent regularity;1958, 1962, 1966 – of course – and 1970. My own memories of this round are of anything but controlled and relaxed victories.

 

Hand of a Rascal

My WCQF catalogue starts with the aforementioned Diego Maradona and his helping hand from God in the Azteca, 1986. It was a tense, bad-tempered affair – the Falklands War was still relatively fresh –  with a second half that started badly and went downhill from there. Even the John Barnes inspired fight back at the end came with a sucker punch (pun intended) as the over excited commentator prematurely called a goal only for Gary Lineker’s attempt to somehow stay the wrong side of the goal line. As a 14-year old boy it was all a bit much to take. Put it another way, I doubt my sister will ever say ‘it’s only a game’ in the way she said it that Sunday night.

 

See Naples And Almost Get Knocked Out

Four years later, Bobby had taken us to a quarter final again and Cameroon were the unlikely opponents after a 38-year old Roger Milla had won hearts and left destroyed goalkeeping reputations in his wake. Early doors, David Platt carried on where he’d left off against Belgium, and it was pretty calm until an hour in but then all hell broke loose, and a clumsy penalty followed by a well worked goal saw us behind with just seven minutes to go. But up stepped that man Lineker again with two spot kicks of his own, both after fouls on him, and we marched on to that fateful Turin night against West Germany.

 

Rising Sun In Seaman’s Eyes

In 1990, I could have been forgiven for expecting a last eight spot in this competition but it would be a new century before I saw us play in one again, this time in a weird morning kick off versus Brazil in Japan/South Korea 2002. Another early lead by Michael Owen goal dared us to dream but then a moment of madness as we tried to shepherd a ball out right on half time only for the Brazilians to break away, break our resolve and break our hearts. In the second half, a dodgy bit of keeping from a Ronaldinho punt put us behind followed by frustration as the South Americans went down to ten men yet still held on while we went home.

 

Gelsen’kirch’ en The Nuts

Turns out Sven Goran Erickson (or Iain Duncan Smith as a less politically correct Gareth Southgate called him after that Brazil match) was a bit like Sir Bobby at this World Cup thing, reaching another quarter final four years later where Rooney’s misplaced foot in Ricardo Carvehlo’s groin area saw us go down to ten men and eventually to Portugal on the dreaded penalties. Until this point, I’d only seen is lose World Cup knockout games to the eventual winners whereas this felt like a genuine missed opportunity on a tension filled, fraught afternoon in the Saturday tea time sun was endured.

 

‘Don’t worry, we’ll get it right next time’, I thought that day along with millions of others, and we did. I just don’t think we realised it would take a dozen years. But this time, more than any other time (if you’re under the age of 45, ignore that) we not only got it right but and some.

Other than a first few nervous passes at the start, we were in control. I didn’t really worry, we always looked capable of stepping up a level if needed and even when they did threaten, we had a goalie who repelled anything they had and in fact, unless you were a Nottingham taxi, a South London ambulance or a branch of Ikea, there was very little to worry about.

And haven’t we – as those incidents prove – gone completely insane over it? Finding someone not won over by this young, energetic, vibrant and humble team is as difficult as finding a seed in the women’s draw at Wimbledon.

Can they go all the way? Croatia are next, fresh – but not very – from another win after extra time and penalties, this time versus hosts Russia. The party poopers spoiled it for 140 million Russians who had begun to think they might bring football home themselves, and will be a formidable opponent if Modric and Rakitic get their acts together and they alone could potentially send England back home. But they also have a creaking defence that will be tested by the pace of Sterling especially and if there’s one way to beat them, it’s getting round the back.

In the other semi-final, France and Belgium will contest the Thierry Henry derby (you have to call it that these days) but the match itself is almost impossible to call. Like England, Les Bleus made light work of a potentially tough match versus a Uruguay team shorn of Cavani and half of its attacking potency. The other half, Luis Suarez cut a frustrated figure as France snuffed out his threat. Scorer of Frances’s second goal, Antoine Griezmann, said before the match that he had mixed feelings because of his South American team mates at Atletico Madrid – one of them being his child’s Godfather – and that he felt almost half-Uruguayan.    Luis Suarez said ‘f**k off or I’ll bite ya’.

In the end though, it was France who showed their teeth to set up a mouth-watering semi in Saint Petersburg.

 

The following day, Belgium prevailed in the biggest match so far, scoring two to Brazil’s one (although Brazil did score one of those for them) in a pulsating match where this year’s Golden Generation were down on the shot count by 27-9. The Japanese adore Brazil, but the feeling may no longer be reciprocated as it was the two-goal deficit to them in the last-16 that gave the Red Devils the kick up the arse they needed, and they are now the darkest of the three dark horses left in the tournament.

So, just a day to go. A nation reunited by a football team that has exorcised the ghosts of World Cups past might just be about to have their greatest day since 1966.Everyone is on board as we approach the biggest game England have played for 28 years. Me and my Mum, my Dad and my wife’s Gran will all be glued to the TV set.

Football just might be coming home. It’s still got a tricky voyage via Moscow and it might have to negotiate a stop in either Paris or Brussels before it gets here – just imagine how rowdy that Eurostar would be – so best keep our feet on the ground for now.

But I’ll set up a JustGiving page tonight – just in case we need to pay to fix up a train carriage or two up next Sunday night.

 

 

 

* there are 7 song titles or lyrics connected to England World Cup songs in this article. How many did you spot?