#158/365 – The Beautiful Game.

Yes, I’m talking about football.

And no, my American chums, not your kind of football where you use your hands, I’m talking about our kind of football where we use our foots. (Why don’t they call it Feetball?)


Unfortunately, that’s about as good as it gets for the English national team because they’re actually not very good at using their feet.

That said, it doesn’t stop me admiring the skills of the foreign players who grace the Premier League or indeed, the classy sides in the Champions League.

One of the reasons England won’t stand a chance of winning the World Cup is that FIFA have brought in this stupid rule which means you have to actually be English to play for the national team. That’s game over right there.

Take the recent warm up match against Peru – our man of the match was goalie, Joe Hart. (Even though it was actually given to Sturridge who was very poor despite his cracking goal.)

Let’s have a little player rating, shall we?


It was rhetorical.

Joe Hart 8/10. Man of the match, for me. Busier than the Peruvian keeper. Jagielka owes him big time.

Glen Johnson -8/10. Yes, that’s minus 8. He was a liability and certainly played like a man who has no competition for his place. Constantly lost possession. Worst player on the pitch. Kyle Walker – you are sorely missed.

Leighton Baines 0/10. Provided no width on the left wing. Rarely got forward.

Gary Cahill 7/10. Was the only decent defender on the pitch.

Phil Jagielka -5/10. Another liability. And against better teams would have probably been responsible for us conceding 2 or 3 goals. Owes Joe Hart a night on the beer. (They’ll probably do that night before the Italy game.)

Steven Gerrard -5/10. Constantly gave the ball away by over-hitting passes.

Jordan Henderson -2/10. Perhaps didn’t lose possession quite as much as Gerrard, but did he actually pass the ball forward at any stage during the game?

Lallana 0/10. Completely ineffective. Which was a shame as I have high hopes for him.

Wellbeck -4/10. Constantly lost possession. I don’t think Hodgson realised he was playing otherwise he would have subbed him after four minutes. Looked about as menacing as 16 stone streaker.

Rooney -6/10. Actually was a 16 stone streaker. Looked very short of match practice. Gave the ball away at every opportunity. Had the first touch of a newborn giraffe on crystal meth.

Sturridge 2/10. Only gets into positive figures for his cracking goal. The rest of the time he was hapless.

I can’t be arsed doing the subs. Life’s too short.

You wouldn’t have thunk we won 3 – nil. T’was a tad flattering.

England’s main problem was their first touch. (And their second, third etc.) They were set up like a Spanish team yet can’t seem to be able to control a ball without having to take three touches and have a minimum amount of space around them akin to the turning circle of a Passat estate.

“I was delighted with England’s performance,” said the Italian, Uruguayan and Costa Rican coaches.

Look on the bright side, England: at least after the group games you’ll get to spend a couple of weeks on the Copacabana. But please, don’t try beach footy, you’ll only make twats of yourselves.



Filed under community, Football, Inspiration

4 responses to “#158/365 – The Beautiful Game.

  1. I am an American lady who is not a football fan. A bunch of guys in heavy suits and helmets colliding together in a group and getting nowhere most of the time was boring. I’d rather watch the flowers grow. Then, eight years ago, my daughter and I happened on the channel where the World Cup was broadcast, and …Voila! Instant love affair. Soccer moves! Soccer has men without armor out there on that field, using their minds as well as their feet(foots)! As for teams, we have, so far, favored Brazil and Spain, but it’s up for grabs this season. We’ll be watching your mates this year.

  2. I am an English lady who is not a football fan and am glad that the males in my family aren’t either, or I’d have to put up with washing their muddy kit all the time and listening to them shouting at the television as they scatter beer cans about my living room. Spoil sport, I can hear you saying, David!

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