World Cup 2010: 'England Only' Post.

I was going to start this blog off with a review of Luis 'El Pistolero' Suarez - his life and times, his career going forward from that winner against South Korea, that sort of thing.

But then I thought, if I was a reader of this powerfully average blog, I wouldn't care less if Luis was curling them in beautifully from the edge of the box - it's England versus Germany, you dick.

And you'd be right.

So, I'm allowing myself to let patriotism take over. And boy it feels good. I realised that last year I'd made an utterly wild statement that England will win the World Cup in 2010. Now, I'm not the type to predict such things, I'm always hedging me bets - so this was particularly peculiar behaviour.

But look at the side. Look at our World Cup Group. Look at Don Fabio in charge.

It was a New Age wrapped up in Old Age toilet paper (aka people like Frank 'Fatty' Lampard, David 'Gay?' James, Michael 'The Welsh Wizard' Owen), and I honestly thought this England set-up could finally deliver. But then it gets to six weeks before the tournament starts, and I start questioning myself.

Then we played the U.S.A. and looked terrible. Then it got worse. How was this possible? A year ago this was a side that could challenge the likes of Argentina and Brazil. So by the Slovenia game, I'd already descended into a pit of mardyness about the 2010 World Cup.

"Aren't the South Africans great?"

"No, they're shit and will be lucky to finish third in their group."

"My bets are on Brazil, if not Spain."

"Really? Did you read that in Take A Break? Why don't you grow some balls and make a decision for yourself - like bet on Japan?"

"Those horns are so much fun."

"What? You're serious, aren't you? Sorry, I think my brain is too large for this conversation."

That's pretty much how I approached people in the shop, anyway.

But now we're here, and things are looking rosy (apart from my predicament about actually getting to watch the match). And I'm starting to believe again.

This may have something to do with how the papers are always loving a good 'stoke up' of old racist fires. Or it could be something to do with how clips of Fabio on the touchline (and bullying Psycho) make me glad to have a foreign manager in charge.

Could it be this brilliant article from Honigstein, that maps out how England can be victorious on Sunday?

Or maybe it's for my belief that Fabio has no chip on his shoulder in the shape of Germany, and so our players will see them for what they are. Simply eleven other players on the pitch. Not a massive, smug and efficient machine that creates new nightmares for us every time we face them.

Remember 5-1 people. Remember Stevie Gee teaching Didi Hamman a lesson in the middle of the field. Remember how good Gazza actually was. Remember John Barnes coming on against Argentina in '86, and almost winning the game for us. Remember Barry Davies screaming "Go on! Run at them!" when he did come on.

Remember 1990. Remember England Irie. Remember that Owen goal in 1998. Remember Punk, Ska, British Blues and Trance Nation. Remember Coogan, Cleese, Morris, Sellars and Palin.

Then think of this side we have, and how we can beat the Germans. And the Argies. And we'll see what happens when it comes to Brazil. Then think of me, furiously checking my phone for updates, and biting my tongue when we score.

And if that doesn't get you up for it, then you have a heart wrapped in sellotape, that's slowly pruning up into a pea-sized ball, resembling a week-old chewed piece of gum. You fascist.