Day Two - Chile v Australia

Pre-Match Thoughts
I'm a bit ambivalent on this one, perhaps due to match fatigue. Several generations of my family have migrated to Australia, and I once had a close friendship to someone from down under, but it has to be said their current squad looks on mysterious side. Bar the veteran Tim Cahill, I know next to nothing of their side.

Chile, on the other hand, are receiving plaudits for their showboating style, with Alexis Sanchez considered one of the best around at the moment, so you have to fancy them for a solid win. I'll say 3-0.

Drink?
Oh, go on, one more.

First Half
It's turned out more interesting that I suspected, in large part due to Chile taking their foot off the gas. At 2-0 after 15 minutes, they were cruising and began to play like it. To give the Aussies credit, they've fought back and Chile should have known better than to give a World Cup veteran like Tim Cahill any room to do what he does best. 2-1 sets it up for a decent second 45 minutes.

Second Half
The game ended up a drab affair, with Chile seemingly happy to stick for the main part, knowing that Australia didn't quite have enough quality to break them down again. Their closest attempt got in the net, but was ruled for offside. The South Americans could have put the game beyond doubt early on, but for some last-ditch defending.

In the end, with two minutes left, Chile caught Australia on the break to put the result beyond doubt. The Aussies need a miracle to not finish bottom in the group now.

Result
Chile win 3-1.

Boing!
Time for bed.

Day Two - Netherlands v Spain

Pre-Match Thoughts

Bit of a toughie, this one. The Dutch are coached by Louis van Gaal, who will take over at United after the World Cup, and their captain is Robin van Persie, our striker, even if he didn't seem to have his heart in it at points last season. Spain have Juan Mata and David de Gea in their ranks, although both are unlikely to feature in the starting XI. 

I should point out I think Juan Mata is fantastic. He really is. You could be a man with the most homophobic arsehole in the world for a dad, but if you brought Juan home, he'd be "ahh, well, fair enough". I was buzzing when we bought him and I really think he could be a top player for us over the next few years. It's a tough call to pick a favourite, but I may just edge for the Dutch in support of the new Boss. 

As has been repeated many times, these two played out the final of the last World Cup. That wasn't a great game and I'm not expecting this to be either. Neither team will want to risk too much from fear of a loss, especially with a strong Chile team also in the group. I'm leaning towards a 0-0, with the best hope of otherwise coming from a goal in the first 20 minutes.

Drink?

Oh, go on. Make mine a Staropramen.

First Half

Well, scrap the boring game theory...

Later than I mused, but Spain took the lead by buying a soft penalty, though it could have been different if Wesley Sneijder had managed to put away a very good chance earlier on. It's an open game now, however, though if David Silva had not tried to be a clever arse, it would have been 2-0. Instead, the keeper saved, the Dutch go up the other end and van Persie pulls off a spectacular header to even the score minutes before the whistle. 

It's hard to predict where it will go from here. It's a close game, with neither keeper that bothered bar the four major incidents. It may well end up being a matter of who has the legs to last the game out. 

Second Half

Well... can't say I expected THAT. Initially, it all seemed fairly equal before the Dutch must have punched their collective "Nitro" button to totally destroy the World and European champions. I don't think I can remember such a destruction of a force. 

People have talked of the ageing members of the squad, but it was Ramos and Pique at the back (both under 30) that looked shaky. Robben in particular enjoyed running riot and the Dutch have very much put themselves on the map with this result. 

I really enjoyed the game, just for the surprise in the second half. Whatever van Gaal said at half time, it worked and makes me very excited for next season with him at my team. It could easily have been six or seven, which I bet nobody predicated after 40 minutes. Torres' missing a total sitter near the end added a nice laugh. This is what I'm hoping to see more of. 

Result
Netherlands win 5-1 (!)

Tenuous Celebrity Connection of the Day

A guy I worked with, while studying in Hull back in the 1980s, lived next door to the mother of Roland Gift, singer from the Fine Young Cannibals. 

Day Two - Mexico v Cameroon

Pre Match Thoughts
Like a lot of these games, I'll generally try to pick the team I want to win by any connection to Manchester United. One of our strikers, Javier Hernandez, is Mexican - a third generation international, as things are. Which is impressive. However, he's struggled in recent months, with no goals this calender year for his national side, all the while he's been unable hold a place at United. It wouldn't be a major surprise to see him leave this summer, and he doesn't start this game.

Cameroon made their first big impact in 1990, when they made the Quarter Finals, only going out after giving England a big scare. I remember a girl in my school, Lisa McAvoy, predicted great things for them beforehand, being laughed out of class for doing so. Girls, right? She had the last laugh on us, obviously. Apparently she was my first "girlfriend" when we were both six. I say "apparently" because I have no knowledge of this outside my mother's say-so.

Cameroon have been overtaken since then by the likes of Nigeria, Ivory Coast and Ghana. This year, they had a whinge about payments, which leads me to predict a 2-0 win for Mexico.

Drink?
Not just now, thanks.

First Half
I can only assume the linesman had £20 on 0-0 at half time, as my prediction should have been true already but for two awful offside calls. Mexico have looked by far the better side, moving the ball around well with Cameroon's only threats coming from their considerable size advantage, which they have used at set pieces.

Perhaps in the second half, with a different lino calling their attacking play, the Central American boys will grab the goals they need to stand a decent chance of making the second round.

Second Half
Well, I wasn't far wrong! Mexico will feel they should have won by more, but the points are what mattered. Cameroon were poor, only really testing the goalkeeper in the last moments. Even then, Hernandez missed an easy chance after that to make it two, which makes me glad I'm not a betting man.

Not a great game, due to the African lads not being much cop.

Result
Mexico win 1-0.

What You Don't Need To Know
I'm off for a shower before the next game.

The Tedious World's World Cup, Day One

Hello, strangers! Yes, I'm back and in a (doubtless foolish) attempt to cure my current malaise - brought on by a killer combination of bad health and work shite - I'm going to try to watch as much of the football World Cup as possible.

I figured that the fact I've been unable to write anything for the last month and a half is also down to my lack of SELF-DISCIPLINE. Therefore, I'll try to force myself to write something about every game over the next month, within reason. Those who read this sorry-excuse-for-a-blog on a regular basis who hate football (hello!) may want to not bother coming here for a month. So:

BRAZIL vs CROATIA
Pre-Match Thoughts
Back in 1990, I remember getting the World Cup sticker album, thus I had a faint clue about most of the other teams. 24 years later, I admit my knowledge has slipped and any predictions I make will be based on stereotypes and out-of-date references.

All the same, Brazil are starting out as one of the favourites and as hosts, the pressure is on them to deliver. So, I'm going to hedge my bets by saying it'll either be a nervous opener, with a late winner from a Brazil, or the boys in yellow will thrive in the occasion and cruise to a 4-0. This is in part due to the fact I know a few of the Brazil team and how good they are. Croatia have Jelavic, who didn't look that good playing for Hull City last season, and Luka Modric - who is a quality player, no doubt.

Drink?
A few bottles of Jennings Lakeland Ale, for a taste of home. Cheers, Aldi.

First Half
Opening ceremony? Fuck that. I listened to Section 25's From the Hip album instead while waiting for kick off. But just as well I'm not a betting man, as Croatia started strong and took the lead. Brazil finally got their shit in order and managed to equalise through Neymar, expected to be the big star of the tournament, though he can count himself lucky to be on the pitch after a tasty elbow on Modric. Any other game, I reckon that would been a straight red.

Since the Brazil goal, they've been in control and you have to fancy them to score more in the second half. The hosts look dodgy at the back, but there's enough going forward to see them through.

Second Half
3-1 to Brazil doesn't tell the whole story. Their back four is shaky at best and they owe a large part of their victory to a referee whose arse seemed to go. The softest of soft penalties at 1-1 saw Brazil steady, though the keeper might have done better with that, and should have certainly saved Oscar's shot that made the points safe.

I may have to reappraise my feelings of Brazil as being amongst the favourites - going forward with the likes of Neymar, they'll score goals. But their goalkeeper and entire defence are going to cost them dear.

Randon Irrelevant Fact
My maternal grandma was born and raised in a hamlet a couple of miles out of town called Scilly Banks. It was basically a row of about 10/15 two up-two down houses, a church and a pub. The pub had closed shortly before I was born, but I can only assume it was sustained for all those years by the entire community going on the piss there every other night.

Man at Work

In a rare moment of "getting my shit together" two months ago, I took the bus to the yonder side of the city to meet up with Mark Burgess, lead singer of the Chameleons, who now fronts Chameleons Vox, performing the old band's material. The purpose was for an interview to go up on No Ripcord.

I've been lucky to meet several people whose work I greatly admire, and Mark is certainly in that group. Putting aside personal feelings, there's always a slight anxiety when you're doing a big piece that the subject won't be forthcoming or give short answers.

Thankfully, Mark was a brilliant interviewee, offering up more than I could have asked for. Smoking like a chimney throughout the 90 minutes he generously talked to me, we covered more subjects that I could fit into one article.

You can read the result here.

Driving and my Dad

As I get older, I feel modern cars are just crap. I mean, they look dull, sound dull and make you seem like a dull person. At least, this is my rationalisation of trying to console myself that I have to use public transport these days. Trams can be sexy, right?

All the same, cars seemed more exciting when I was a child. I used to love long journeys down to visit family in Milton Keynes (English viewers may be raising an eyebrow here at the idea of anyone being excited about going to that place) for the reason that I would see lots of cars on the M6 and M1. Credit to my pop to keeping his patience when we were stuck in a 15 mile tailback at Birmingham and I was bopping around in excitement at having seen a BMW 2002.

In the years before I was arrived, Dad had owned a couple of VW Beetles, the second of which had to go as you couldn't fit a pram in the front boot. Therefore, he made the insane decision to ignore further dabblings in German engineering and buy British. Only weeks before my birth, he picked up one of these (pics nicked from Wiki):

Check out the curves on that baby. Wow.

Yes, a Vauxhall Astra. Except he chose one in brown, and we all know the connotations of that colour. My principle memory of it was during a holiday down to Torquay. Along with my recently arrived brother and my parents, my older cousin accompanied us on what seemed like a 15 hour drive down to the English Rivera, where we met my aunty, uncle and their three daughters, who had entrusted British Rail to get them there. At one point, all of us managed to squeeze into the Astra. That's four adults, and six children, aged from 12 to one. If anything had happened, the social would have had a field day.

At some point, I think dad realised the British generally knew fuck all about making a half decent family car. I can recall the day at some point in the late 1980s where we went up to some garage near Maryport to pick up a new set of wheels - a Fiat Uno.

Compact Italian quality. Or something.

To this day, I'm unsure why he traded in for a smaller car. 1000cc of raw power got us from 0-60mph in around the same time it took me to get out of bed on a schoolday. In hindsight, I wonder if my dad was having a bad time at work, which makes me feel bad for all the times I hectored for a new set of football boots. Still, it cannot be said it was a nice car to look at. Or hear, as on the rare events it seemed to get to some kind of "top" speed, it screamed like a bunch of woodland creatures trapped in a blender, to which it's somewhat dubious "stereo" system would fail to drown out.

Luckily, needs eventually necessitated a bigger car - that being my brother and I had inherited some "tall" genes and were growing to the point that being crammed in the back of the Uno was going to result in some kind of bone deformations not seen in this country since the Victorian era. And so, the Ford Mondeo entered our lives.

Made in Genk, Belgium. What a great name for a city.

Now, this was more like it. Sure, it looks fairly functional, but it was comfortable enough to have two lanky teenage lads in the back, with enough room for them to swing a few digs at each other and our mother to turn round and whack us both for misbehaving. My dad said it was the best car he'd ever had up to that time and actually kept it going for a decade with no major problems - in fact, it was offered down to me after I'd just moved to Manchester, but I couldn't afford the insurance.

Nowadays, my ma and pa scoot around in a Ford Focus diesel, which is very pleasant and efficient, but I find myself unable to give it a personality the way I did 20 years ago.

So - readers, did any of your folks own a particularly dreadful set of wheels that made you cringe when they stopped by to pick you up when you were out with your mates?

Space Issues

Perhaps the first game that showed me the possibilities of video games as a storytelling device, and therefore one of the most important games in my life ever, was Wing Commander, released in 1990 as a project from the mind of one Chris Roberts.

It was originally released in 1990, but I came to it a few years later. Despite that, it still took me back with it graphics and the way the action held together. In brief: you were a rookie pilot doing your bit for the people of Earth in a huge war in space against the ruthless Kilrathi, who were anthropomorphic cat folk with a tough line in tradition and honour.

In hindsight, the story was incredibly linear, but by simple virtue of being able to choose your own name and "callsign" it offered a layer of immersion that was very rewarding for the time. You were thrown right onto the front as part of the crew of the Tigers Claw, most the "storyline" taking place in the bar.

Drink helps with the space shakes, I'm told.

Here, your fellow pilots would offer advice and inform you of the how the war is going, while the old guy behind the bar would regale tales of his own days of action. The chalkboard kept track of your kills, while medals and promotions were up for grabs if you showed your style. It may seem all very quaint from this distance, but it was well-written and offered new opportunities for the medium.

The success of Wing Commander meant a sequel quickly followed in 1991. In this, our hero finds his hero status relinquished due to odd circumstances, and he's packed off for ten years doing nothing work. Obviously, he finds his way back to the action to earn a chance to clear his name and save Earth, again. I can only assume Roberts got a bit excited, as the storyline offered more depth, with romantic interludes (yuck!), a Kilrathi defector on the crew and a human traitor in the ranks. Larks!

Instead of denying it, why not embrace death? It is your only friend now.

There was a fair bit of skill needed in the games: one hand on the joystick with a finger and thumb needed for guns and missiles, with your other hand on the keyboard ready to issue commands to your wing partner, swap weapons and chose targets. The different mission types, ships and colleagues all added variation and during the debriefs, it felt good when the Chief offered congrats for a job well done.

Unfortunately, for the third instalment, Chris Roberts fancied himself as George Lucas and wanted to make the scenes between missions all Full Motion Video. FMV had the double issue of being incredibly expensive and it took bloody ages to load up every scene. Also, within a few years as technology moved on, it all tended to look a bit ropey. Another of my favourite games, Gabriel Knight: Sins of the Fathers, went down the same path with the second in the series, The Beast Within, which has dated ten times worse than the older game.

At least 1994's Wing Commander III managed to snare some decent acting talent: Mark Hamill, John Rhys-Davies and Malcolm McDowell all rocked up to do credible jobs to the degree there were additional sequels. I had lost interest, though - the appeal of the first two in the series was that the main guy had MY name and I read his lines in MY voice. Suddenly, he looked and sounded like Mark Hamill and was called Christopher Blair, which is a frankly shite name for the hero of a space war hero.

Back in space again, eh? Bloody typecasting!

There was an attempt to launch a film franchise, of which we'll say no more.