And So Endeth The Fever.

The football World Cup was decided this morning with the very sexual Spain defeating the dirty Dutch in a final that saw the two form sides of the last 18 months line up against each other.

The Dutch are a feisty bunch though aren’t they? I wonder why that is? I’ve known a few Pastry Eaters in my time and they have almost, to the man, been complete nutcases, especially on the football field.

One I knew quite well carried a baseball bat in his car to football matches he was due to play in, just in case things got ‘tasty’. He also took great delight in telling me all about the latest pornographic emails he would get at work which would get through the work mail sweeper because they were written in Dutch.

Perhaps it’s the marijuana in the Daddy’s semen that fertilises the Mummy’s egg, or the hypnotic effect of all those bloody windmills turning over and over...

Anyhoo. Until this morning the Oranje hadn’t lost an international game in 24 matches and the Spanish only twice in the last two years, one of which was at this tournament, so there was an air of inevitability around proceedings I thought.

I did, of course, pick Spain in an earlier blog and had the remarkable fortitude to have them in not one, but two sweepstakes, which given that I ran them both has cast a few eyebrows around these parts. God only knows why.

Must I reiterate again that the sweepstake fixing scandal of 1998 is long forgotten and I went to great efforts to ensure that the ‘lost entry’ scandal of that particular competition was not to repeat itself some 12 years later. Besides, it was all Sully’s doing anyway in 98. He’ll deny it, of course, but it was no coincidence that he and I pocketed some of the winnings that year.

But what a strange old tournament it’s been, what with players being sent home (Anelka of France), goals that weren’t given (Lampard of England) and some that were (Tevez vs Mexico). Talk of over inflated balls and the crazy goalkeeping it produced, four South American teams making the quarters but then none the final and them vuvuzelas. Oh them fucking vuvuzelas.

New Zealand were there of course, drawing all three games and as that idiot Martin Devlin kept telling us at every possible opportunity, right up till the final minute of TVNZs coverage no less, remained the only unbeaten team at the World Cup.

He’s quite correct of course, but a fact that would be made all the more impressive if that extended to seven games and not just the three in pool play before the flight home. Not that that will stop anyway from wheeling that little gem out at every opportunity. Look for that trivia question on Tui stubby caps any day soon.

As the interest of competing nations dropped off at the demise of their teams thus increased the excitement over a certain mollusc, Paul the Octopus, picking results, primarily of Ze Germans but once The Hun was eliminated, of the final too. It was so exciting sometimes you almost forgot there was football to be played at the end of it all.

But at the end of the day football was the winner and not just in Spain where they’ll be partying like they’ve won the World Cup for the first time (which they have), which will make for a nice break from the real estate market collapse which is threatening to bring the country to its knees financially.

For us football fans on this side of the world it will be back to a full night’s sleep and nothing to whack off to in the shower before work anymore other than Pippa Wetzell on Breakfast.

It’s quite the comedown, is going cold turkey after four weeks of quality football, so don’t be surprised if a football fan near you starts to go a bit emo over the next few weeks. At least until the Premiership starts in a few weeks time.

Now, what am I going to do with $75 cash and twelve chocolate bars....

The Pastry Eaters left their mark on Spain, but not the trophy...

...we wouldn't mind playing Dutch Ovens with some of their fans though.

No One Celebrates a Draw Quite Like We Do..

Not even one week into the World Cup and suddenly everybody is a football fan.

Or more specifically an All Whites fan, so much so that Nike have had to get the sweatshops working 23, not the usual 22, hours a day just so they can churn out more jerseys for a gagging NZ public. It seems the total sum of 28 years worth of jersey sales – roughly a dozen - was not enough to keep the racks stocked this time round and for that you can hardly blame Nike. Or maybe you can.

We – see what I did just there – drew with Slovakia to make a four way tie in a group that is suddenly looking a lot more interesting than it did a week ago. Winston Reid, the guy who was for most of his life Danish through and through until he realised he wasn’t good enough to make their senior team and decided to be a Kiwi instead a la Rory Fallon, scored a last gasp equaliser that sent the country into delirium.

You can't blame him wanting to stay Danish, they do wonderful things with pastry do the Danes. As do the Dutch. Not so the Swiss who are great with watches, pocket knifes and Toblerone, nor Ze Germans who just like to do kinky things with their sausage....

And then things started to get a bit funky. Some sleep starved, caffeine pumped journo decided that it could quite possibly be NZ’s bestest sporting achievement ever. Meanwhile over in Australia, where the football fraternity there are still coming to grips with their team playing like, well, what we all expected NZ to play like (against Ze Germans), declared the victory an ‘Australasian’ one.

To top it all off – and I wish he would - Martin Devlin, quite possibly the most annoying fuck ever, continues to grind out “C’mon you All Whites” at the end of every promo he does in a manner that makes you wonder if he’s passing a vuvuzela. Through his urethra.

I personally didn’t stay up and watch the game, something that seemed to disappoint a colleague of mine who appeared to be quite distraught when she learnt that I hadn’t and promptly gave me the silent treatment for an hour or two. Plenty did though, last night’s match was watched by just about as many people who watch the TV1 news each night, which is as good as it gets for viewership in this country. Great stuff.

See, I’ve watched enough World Cups to know that one has to pace oneself when it comes to late night matches; get into the schedule too early, when teams are happy to play out a draw, and you’ll be physically and emotionally shot. It’s best to save that shit till the knockout stages when teams will still play out draws, albeit high scoring ones.

Which brings me to my point. Football, particularly World Cups, have always been this emotionally charged. Maybe not to the fair-weather fans who now want to buy the jersey to prove that they’re New Zealanders, but we football fans have been soiling settees the world over every four years for quite some time with all the excitement.

Now I love that the success, or perceived success, of this All White side has gotten people into the game that otherwise wouldn’t give a flying fuck. I really do. All of my boys at training are talking about and wanting to be All Whites which augers well for the future, so for that I am right chuffed.

But let’s slap ourselves out of it shall we? It was a draw and with two group games to play we’re still in the same boat we were before the thing started and with the two toughest teams still to play it ain’t going to get any easier.

Yep, no one celebrates a draw quite like NZ football fans do, which is a bit tragic really.