I thought so. That sense of loss and deprivation now that the World Cup is done and dusted. Life has been blessed and blissful for the past thirty-one days with the relentless flow and flood of live actions, updates, commentaries and even prophesies. The World Cup has been the silver lining in a world of dark clouds. A cheery respite amid the global gloom. And one more reason to remain retired.
But I was wrong. It's Spain, and not Argentina. Even some seasoned experts, pundits and punters (legal or illegal) were way off the mark. I don't think Paul the Oberhausen oracle would've picked Spain if he were given 32 teams to choose from instead of just two teams at a time. I'm not trying to discredit Paul, not after all the ballyhoo and brouhaha built up by the hungry media. It's still a phenomenal feat foretelling eight right outcomes out of eight without the benefit of telltale clues like which team consumed more beer or which team had a philandering skipper. A head-to-head comparison with an octopus will reveal that I indeed have a superior brain-to-body ratio, but I still doubt whether I'd have performed better than Paul.
The World Cup has come a long way since my first World Cup experience in 1970. Media coverage then was almost non-existent mainly because media was non-existent. Match reports, written in staid and superficial language, shared the sports pages with the Malaysian schools athletics. No live games, no recorded games, no highlights, no 24/7 repeats, no Power Root commercials. Only the hard-core football freaks talked about the World Cup those days. I didn't watch games at 2.30 am in the comfort of a living room and LCD HD TV. I had my World Cup fix watching the World Cup movie 'The world at their feet' at a local cinema. Back-breaking wooden seat, sweaty air and stale smell of second-hand smoke, all for 65 sen.
The World Cup now is one huge commercial franchise propped up by massive media machinery. Its planning, organization and marketing is text-book Blue Ocean. When the World Cup is on, nothing else is relevant. As much as I enjoy the hard, physical battles on the pitch, it's the soft, journalistic sideshows off the pitch that fire me up. Match commentaries and game build-ups now are no longer run-of-the mill write-downs. ''Dull as ditch water" moaned an English tabloid when England was bombed out by Germany. Not to be outdone, coaches and players are constantly engaged in complex mind games. Ahead of match-up with Argentina, Bastian Schweinsteiger warned his German team mates of underhand tactics and gamesmanship by Maradona's man-kissers "If you see how they gesticulate....." . World Cup websites and blogs were jostling for space and reach, and there's so many that it's impossible even for a full-time retiree to read them all. Each one produced its own ranking or list of bests and beasts, hots and nots. FIFA released its official list and David Beckham jumped in with a Beckham's eleven. Competition finally got out of hand when one site ran a poll to rank footballers on the basis of their looks. The beast? Wayne Rooney, hands down. Journalism had never stooped this low.
I have my own World Cup list. The problem is, I'm not sure what to call it. It's a miscellany of World Cup magical and mediocre moments that kept me delighted and intrigued. Let's call it my list of ten World Cup whatever:
1.Top Five Goals: All the five goals by Diego Forlan. The one against Germany is cream of the crop. Ultimate artistry. The goalie just stood and watched the Jabulani.
2.Best Match: Spain-Germany semis. Open, flowing, expressive. Not a single card. So civilized.
3.Least Inspiring Team Nickname: No, not Italy and France. They're least inspiring teams, not team nicknames. For nickname, it should be Switzerland. They're called, hold your breath, the Swiss National Team.
4.Most Hilarious Miss: A toss-up between Yakubu (Nigeria) and Gyan (Ghana). I've seen plenty of penalty misses in my lifetime. So my vote to Yakubu's howler against South Korea. Emile Heskey's mother (or even dear Emile himself) would've tapped that one in.
5.Most optimistic supporters: Russians. A poll found that a significant 18% of Russians believed Russia would win the World Cup although the Russian team didn't compete.
6.Most Misspelled and Mispronounced Name: Schweinsteiger. (I saw Schweinsteigern in the Star and other mangled variants in Utusan). Nightmare compared to, say, Maradona.
7.Least Flattering Online Comments on Spanish Team: Cheats, Divers, Sissies, Babies, #%$@&?!
8.Least Flattering Online Comments on Dutch Team: Dirty, Kickers, Neo-Nazis, Skinheads Brutes, Rugby, #%$@&?!
9.Most Sporting Team: New Zealand. The only unbeaten team, they're theoretically better than Spain or Holland. So why no medals? Until today, no complaint or request for use of video technology from NZF.
The 10th is a killer. It's the Best Taunt. Worn out and weary of Schweinsteiger's mind-game antics, Maradona mocked the German winger in German accent "What's the matter, Schweinsteiger? Are you nervousssh?". That about made my World Cup.
But I was wrong. It's Spain, and not Argentina. Even some seasoned experts, pundits and punters (legal or illegal) were way off the mark. I don't think Paul the Oberhausen oracle would've picked Spain if he were given 32 teams to choose from instead of just two teams at a time. I'm not trying to discredit Paul, not after all the ballyhoo and brouhaha built up by the hungry media. It's still a phenomenal feat foretelling eight right outcomes out of eight without the benefit of telltale clues like which team consumed more beer or which team had a philandering skipper. A head-to-head comparison with an octopus will reveal that I indeed have a superior brain-to-body ratio, but I still doubt whether I'd have performed better than Paul.
The World Cup has come a long way since my first World Cup experience in 1970. Media coverage then was almost non-existent mainly because media was non-existent. Match reports, written in staid and superficial language, shared the sports pages with the Malaysian schools athletics. No live games, no recorded games, no highlights, no 24/7 repeats, no Power Root commercials. Only the hard-core football freaks talked about the World Cup those days. I didn't watch games at 2.30 am in the comfort of a living room and LCD HD TV. I had my World Cup fix watching the World Cup movie 'The world at their feet' at a local cinema. Back-breaking wooden seat, sweaty air and stale smell of second-hand smoke, all for 65 sen.
The World Cup now is one huge commercial franchise propped up by massive media machinery. Its planning, organization and marketing is text-book Blue Ocean. When the World Cup is on, nothing else is relevant. As much as I enjoy the hard, physical battles on the pitch, it's the soft, journalistic sideshows off the pitch that fire me up. Match commentaries and game build-ups now are no longer run-of-the mill write-downs. ''Dull as ditch water" moaned an English tabloid when England was bombed out by Germany. Not to be outdone, coaches and players are constantly engaged in complex mind games. Ahead of match-up with Argentina, Bastian Schweinsteiger warned his German team mates of underhand tactics and gamesmanship by Maradona's man-kissers "If you see how they gesticulate....." . World Cup websites and blogs were jostling for space and reach, and there's so many that it's impossible even for a full-time retiree to read them all. Each one produced its own ranking or list of bests and beasts, hots and nots. FIFA released its official list and David Beckham jumped in with a Beckham's eleven. Competition finally got out of hand when one site ran a poll to rank footballers on the basis of their looks. The beast? Wayne Rooney, hands down. Journalism had never stooped this low.
I have my own World Cup list. The problem is, I'm not sure what to call it. It's a miscellany of World Cup magical and mediocre moments that kept me delighted and intrigued. Let's call it my list of ten World Cup whatever:
1.Top Five Goals: All the five goals by Diego Forlan. The one against Germany is cream of the crop. Ultimate artistry. The goalie just stood and watched the Jabulani.
2.Best Match: Spain-Germany semis. Open, flowing, expressive. Not a single card. So civilized.
3.Least Inspiring Team Nickname: No, not Italy and France. They're least inspiring teams, not team nicknames. For nickname, it should be Switzerland. They're called, hold your breath, the Swiss National Team.
4.Most Hilarious Miss: A toss-up between Yakubu (Nigeria) and Gyan (Ghana). I've seen plenty of penalty misses in my lifetime. So my vote to Yakubu's howler against South Korea. Emile Heskey's mother (or even dear Emile himself) would've tapped that one in.
5.Most optimistic supporters: Russians. A poll found that a significant 18% of Russians believed Russia would win the World Cup although the Russian team didn't compete.
6.Most Misspelled and Mispronounced Name: Schweinsteiger. (I saw Schweinsteigern in the Star and other mangled variants in Utusan). Nightmare compared to, say, Maradona.
7.Least Flattering Online Comments on Spanish Team: Cheats, Divers, Sissies, Babies, #%$@&?!
8.Least Flattering Online Comments on Dutch Team: Dirty, Kickers, Neo-Nazis, Skinheads Brutes, Rugby, #%$@&?!
9.Most Sporting Team: New Zealand. The only unbeaten team, they're theoretically better than Spain or Holland. So why no medals? Until today, no complaint or request for use of video technology from NZF.
The 10th is a killer. It's the Best Taunt. Worn out and weary of Schweinsteiger's mind-game antics, Maradona mocked the German winger in German accent "What's the matter, Schweinsteiger? Are you nervousssh?". That about made my World Cup.
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