World Cup Countdown — Allez Les Bleus!
But will ball number 13 be unlucky for the European favourites?
But will ball number 13 be unlucky for the European favourites?
With the Premier League now closed until it re-opens again with the festive cheers of Boxing Day I am in somewhat of a quandary. I am need of putting digital pen to parchment on all matters football and so I’m going to cover the coming World Cup, and all being well, in my own inimitable way. I’ll start as I mean to go on by stating I won’t be covering any England games, unless they face France or the team that defeats Les Bleus or the team that defeats the team that defeats the team from the European continent. I’ll explain why and how shortly.
But as an Englishman you’d be forgiven for thinking that I’d be cheering on Gareth Southgate’s “Three Lions” (Trademark) but I haven’t cheered on an England football team in earnest since the sun kissed days of watching the 2002 Japan World Cup on the beautiful Greek island of Zakynthos (otherwise known as Zante) and mainly from the “Flamingo Bar”. It may have been called The Pink Flamingo Bar, the memory is either excellent, failing or dropping me into a cinematic sex club, but we don’t have time for such matters of lurid discussion here, we have a French football team to cheer for.
Editor’s Note: Stephen has a faraway look in his eye whenever he recounts the events of that Greek holiday in the sun. It was a bar. It was a tedious 0–0 draw with Nigeria to qualify for the ignominy of *that* Ronaldinho goal for Brazil in the Quarter-Finals. It was watching South Korea astounding the world at 7am in a poolside bar next to the apartment. It was the Blue Caves. It was the evenings playing pool with the most beautiful lady in all the world. It was the spotting of turtles. It was the meeting of the two Manchester City fans whose names are lost to the mists of time. It was the drunken evening and the avoidance of karaoke. It was even more drunken evening as I tried to watch the US Open golf from the other side of the world. In a bar named The Flamingo. It was the evenings playing pool with the most beautiful lady in all the world.
So to rid myself from my albeit self imposed quandary, I requested a random number between 1 and 32 from my beautiful son this afternoon and he plumped, at random, and knowing zero as to the meaning of the choosing of his random number, the number 13, and that’s why I’m cheering on France this winter in the ludicrously timed Qatar World Cup.
Here’s why:
The rationale is simple:
Group A, Team A and Number 1 — Qatar
Group A, Team B and Number 2 — Ecuador
and so on with England being number 5 and South Korea 32. So at random, I’m following and reporting on France this winter. If the European favourites (Brazil are world favourites at 4–1 but I’m not a betting man and couldn’t care less) are dumped out of the Group stage, then I’ll take my following boots and my wandering footballing eye to the Group stage winners (either Australia, Denmark or Tunisia). I’ll be astounded if I have to do this, but time will tell. Then from the knock-out stages onward, should France lose, I’ll take up the mantle of their victors and so on, and all the way through to the World Cup final on 18th December.
So that’s the plan. Here are the upsides:
Suffice to say, at second favourites, my lad has done me a favourable turn. I’ve always liked the cut of Didier Deschamps jib. Famously decried as a mere “water carrier” by France’s enfant terrible Eric Cantona, he’s a niggly winner, always has been, and the water carrier role has become a staple of every winning team from time immemorial, and especially so in today’s rigid and formational beautiful game. A water carrier indeed! Now I know next to nothing of the formation or possible starting XI representing Deschamps and France, but I have no particular French love for Tottenham Hotspur goalkeeper Hugo Lloris, believe their central defender Rafa Varane to be slow and cumbersome and adore Real Madrid’s Eduardo Camavinga and believe him to have quite the footballing future ahead of him. In attack? France have a frightening array of scoring weapons: Karim Benzema (Real Madrid), Kinglsey Coman (Bayern Munich), Ousmane Dembele (Barcelona), Olivier Giroud (AC Milan), Antoine Griezmann (Atletico Madrid), Kylian Mbappe (Paris Saint-Germain) and Christopher Nkunku (RB Leipzig). Goals are absolutely guaranteed from this lot.
But of course they aren’t and neither is the possibility of a famed French implosion within the squad and an early exit.
I’m selfishly hoping Ibrahima Konate plays a central defensive role as quite frankly he’s a footballing defensive beast, merits a starting place and I’m incredibly biased. But I get to write a “Player Watch” type article on him and a joy that shall be. Just pick him please Didier!
Time will tell. It always does.
So I’m French until told otherwise and until I can become a Liverpool Red again. Hopefully I get to change nationality a couple of times in the next six or so weeks, but I have a need to write, and this horrid, money grubbing backdrop in Qatar will have to do for now.
Allez Les Bleus!
Thanks for reading. Included within the cave of wonders that is my archives are now over 500 articles. Here are the three most recently published:
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