On-board FIFA Train:

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Quiet, cold shadows ruling night
Submit nature’s time conversion
Holding court in virtual sight
Enabling interpretation
Dreams invading mental hollows
Congeal impression-lined mattress
Eyelids fluttering soft pillows
Laying exhausted minds to rest

World football’s quarterly mecca
Ghosts Amazon’s promiscuous land
Prompting nervous agitate, FIFA
Questioning whether people understand
Superstars, with ample support
Showcase rude, brilliant talent
Highlighted such a way – They’re caught
Deftly on-screens openly apparent

Nations gathering highest hope
Set to field their countries’ greatest
Preparation meant they should cope
With group oppositions latest
Nothing could really go amiss
Ref’s decisions blatantly wrong
Added to shows some meaty twists
Dos Santos’ goals went for a song

Big shot Spain going home early
Christiano’s drones fared no better
England bit their lip, brooding surly
Loew proffered a Latin letter
Wont forget dainty Grasshopper
Proved Brazil weren’t hosting most
Rattling keeper’s bar – showstopper
Gliding silkily through games he coast

Lionel secured his golden ball
Scaling intermittent genius
Omitting journalists’ bitter scrawl
Condoning critique most heinous
Efficient machines though they were
Few hardly dare mock the German
Abused Scolari with a stir
Scarring history seven – one

No questioning, the best we’ve seen
Soccer broached futurist new rounds
Finances sandwiched in between
Progressive feuds on virgin ground
Claiming commercial enterprise
Fusing goal-line technology
Europe gained a glittering prize
Sparking an east – west dichotomy

Schh…O…Lari: being in Brazil, they don’t need a guy.

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Brought his A-game to the table, buying into his own personal infallibility; refusing to budge after Germany’s second goal, meant he must have been the most ridiculous spectator we will ever see. He has gone on record, saying last night was the worst day of his life, he got that wrong too. That fool still doesn’t realize what he has done: last night is the best of, the rest of his life. Scholari killed Brazil, murdered Brazilian football, exposed the players – who he is purported to love – and, worst of all, he has brought a proud nation to shame.
The decision to, play: Fred, Bernard, Oscar and The Ridiculous Hulk, rests at Scholari’s door; the team he put out had absolutely no chance. I discussed it with my neighbour, just before the game started. Scholari is not big enough to take the responsibility, he claims, for what he has done; try as he might, he most definitely can’t. I lit my bonfire shortly after the game against Chile; Germany aren’t that good, neither should any blame be placed at the Brazil players’ doors. Scholari confirmed what most people – Abramovich included – knew, he is an utter fool. At one – nil, during the Chile game, Marcelo and Hulk contrived to give Chile an equalizer; those two players were at it again, last night. Still, I refuse to blame Hulk and Marcelo for what happened because Scholari saw what we have previously seen; being so much closer to the action, he should have prevented what became an obvious formality. He refuses to stand down, how hard-headed is that? That man surrendered Ronaldo’s proud record, inflicted the greatest – most humiliating – defeat football has ever seen, and still tries to save face. I can’t imagine how many bonfires are burning in Brazil, at this present time. My sympathies are with the players, all eleven of them. The substitutes’ reputations remain intact, it was five – nil before that fool decided to act; sign of a complete idiot. he gave his players flip-flops to wear in a snake infested jungle. I’ll never forgive him, for: playing Bernard, Oscar, Fred and The Ridiculous Hulk, in the same team, for a world cup semi-final played in Brazil. He has, effectively, made Brazil the laughing stock, of: the world, South America and world cup football.
Zaire never recovered, from what Brazil did to them all those years ago, neither has France gained respite from the Senegal disaster. How can Scholari, and all Brazilians – at home and abroad – ever live this down? If you put Lionel Messi on a football pitch with a bunch of misfits, it would be wrong to blame the team. All blame belongs to the coach, for putting them out there. BIG (ha) Phil Scholari will be remembered, as the fool who gave away Brazil’s Rich football heritage and, made his country the laughing stock of the world.
Everyone is singing the praises of Mr Loew and his – all of a sudden – world beating team, who scraped results against: Ghana, Algeria and the USA. Yes! They steamrollered, humbled and humiliated Brazil last night but, not many top class sides would have failed to do the same. In a world where opportunist snakes congregate, perched on a fence, over a well fed vipers den, only a fool would leave a trail encouraging them seek out unprotected baby-pens; it’s easy to support those who are sat in choice seats but, even those hypocrites must realize, everybody has to eat. Scholari picked the team – so let me light my bonfire in peace; I’m going back to bed.

Cracked-Out: for real.

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Becoming so embarrassing
Locked in private world of his own
Complicated problems he brings
And never repaying his loans
Always pushing some gripe, bitching
Eternally, wont ever stop
Lacking control, much hype; twitching
Habitually spitting slops

Breeches pulled tight, sag at the waist
Holding his belly up with twine
Shoe soles glued with adhesive paste
Badly in need of polished shine
Hard to believe he goes to work
Earns a fairly decent packet
Income seeping, sucked into coke
Look! His eyes, those bulging sockets

He’s a dab hand with plastic cards
A nose like a tug-boat’s funnel
Sagging belly turned to lard
Baggy pants hiding a tunnel
Course he moonlights for extra cash
Comfortably maintains his habit
Looking like a major car crash
Not really in it, to win it

The Road To Maracana: all hail the king.

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Approaching tournament end: we begin to feel the emotional build-up, reserved for the final; it has been a terse, slightly predictive run up to the semis and not much will change. Brazil has single-handedly disposed of most of the relevant south American opposition; apart from their biggest and most legendary adversary, from their sphere of the global game.
Having to face the relentless Germans – in the semi-final – will serve to rebuild morale and generate necessary, increased self-belief. European opposition – with, or without Neymar – holds no terrors for Scholari and his pseudo – mish, mash – of Brazilian footballers; they will cope with the Europeans without breaking sweat. Neymar’s injury will become a blessing in disguise because, match-winner that he is, the star status he holds has contributed to the lack of team-ethic, they are so desperately seeking, and the fluent attractive football that has become non-existent; Neymar served as a loosed cannon, disinterested – during the latter stages of most recent games – in team work.
Brazil will face Argentina; Messi and co. will swat Van Gaal’s mercenaries aside, like an uncomfortable blue-fly. Argentina has enjoyed the most fruitful run-up, to the final. The team has progressively grown into a prized article – a unit. It’s a pity about Di Maria – an important part of Sabella’s jigsaw – but if Kun Aguero returns, he wont be missed. I have sensed, all along, a Brazil, Argentina final; nothing that has happened makes me think any differently. The Dutch are the weakest remaining outfit – thank goodness they overcame Puerto Rico – and at this stage, both they and Germany are in trouble, because Brazil and Argentina – regardless of personnel – will defeat any European team playing in south America.
The final – especially with Neymar indisposed – will belong to Lionel Messi, it; hurts me so much to admit it, as a lifelong Brazil fan but the Argentinian’s genius – like Diego’s – us undeniable. His unquestioned and unchallenged ability, supported by his insistence and whole-hearted stubbornness, to play fair, makes him the outstanding player of the tournament and, our time. Brazil will resort to spoiling and cynical disruption but that is the essence of the Argentinian game, when the chips are down – they will play into Argentinian hands. King Messi wont be denied. I am, a mite, over-confident the battle will be between the south American giants because, the Europeans – kick, kick,stop – remain an age behind, in footballing nuance and ability, the; media-hype dressing and sublime financial bribery can only go so far.
Everyone keeps harping on about German efficiency, the: German machine. That’s all well and good but how effective are European machines, against south American spontaneity and Latin unpredictability? Regardless of Brazil’s team shortcomings they wont have forgotten South Africa, neither are they likely to make the same mistakes again – Brazil’s problems stem from south American opposition, the; final will be a re-run of their quarter-final against Columbia, they wont be so fortunate this time.
Germany will continue breaking records, after they’ve been eliminated. Their conquering hero – Miroslav Klose – is being referred to, at the same level of achievement renown, and ability, as Ronaldo – the real one. Klose scored, something like, five goals in one game (ha, ha), whilst edging closer to Ronaldo’s historic fifteen, by scoring in third and fourth place play-offs (wow). For a team who has made the last four semi-finals – it stands to reason: practised losers shouldn’t really count, not in terms of tournament Kudos, yet; the whole of Europe is willing, and praying, for the substandard German equivalent to usurp the true mark of genius. Shame on you all; when Germany make the play-offs, again.
The Europeans, typically, employ any conceivable – mark of cheats – means to institute a , non-existent, competitive level between south America and themselves; great as Christiano is, he’ll never be a natural. Granted, he’s worked very, very hard to become the legend that he is but he is not naturally gifted – he is not naturally talented. That title belongs, to: diminutive-type players – weighing little more than nine stone – doing things spontaneously off the cuff. Not regimented disciplinarians honed, in the weights room and on the athletics track. Their tactics and techniques make it impossible, to fail standard regimented practise; players who gain things celebrated and done before, by players who made their name in bygone eras: Pele, brought numerous new football skill factors, Zico introduced the back-heel as a skill, Romario licensed the toe-poke and, impossible as it supremely is, Ronaldo regimented precision. Remember, Romario nutmegged Schmeical in corresponding champions league cup-ties. and taught us to play offside from free-kicks; all classic skill factors derived in game time, methinks?
Messi, Neymar and James Rodriguez continue to add, to the legacy of football legends, whilst Christiano seems to have built his name, as: a European copycat legend. Yes! Taking nothing away from him but it’s not the same, is it? The truly great players, like Lionel Messi, refrain from cheating and stamp the world with something unforgettable. Diego was as brilliant a phenomenon, as we’ve ever seen but, he resorted to cheating, he; was so great, we still have to acknowledge his genius, like we do Christiano. I love Ronaldo – the real one – because they kicked him to pieces, rebuilt his knees, and he came back: winning the golden boot, the world cup and twice world player of the year, with – I repeat – reconstructed knee-caps.
Listen mate: there is European football history and, genuine football history; the same as every level of the social’s global manipulation.

“Now Look What You’ve Done!”

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Growing up watching football, since I can remember, the world cup meant Brazil, and the beautiful game. The Mexico 1970. world cup rubber-stamped everything I love about Brazil, and football, the: beautiful game, sweet flowing football, mesmerising flicks and tricks, exquisite goals and non-stop precision passing.
Watching Brazil play Columbia was so painful, I almost switched off; becoming severely distracted, doing a million insignificant things whilst watching the game. I wasn’t glued to the screen, neither did I experience a feeling of loss towards the end of the game, knowing I’d have to wait a few days before seeing Brazil play again; I was almost vindictive towards Neymar’s injury because of the way James Rodriguez was treated – By Fernandhino, in particular – throughout the full ninety minute. Rodriguez received the ultimate of nature’s blessings – he should be called grasshopper.
Previously, I had no experience, or memory, of a cheating Brazil team, until now. Columbia were a far superior team and, would beat Brazil if the game was played again with a decent referee. Watching a European-styled Brazil was a sickening experience. No-doubt, football has changed, inextricably, for the worst; the days of strikers, almost, refusing to score ugly, non-appealing goals has passed. I actually witnessed that clod, Fred, trying to scrape himself along the ground, pathetically, trying to steal a headed goal with the ball prone on the ground; what a fool, and a Brazilian one at that.
So, the European – win at all cost – mentality has, finally, permeated the global game; beautiful football is not an essential prerequisite of the South American game anymore. The financial invasion emanating from corporate responsibilities, European football has saddled the global game with, has ruined it as an entertainment spectacle. Approaching the latter stages of the competition, the cynical disadvantages of professionalism have begun to invade and transgress sentiments, of: exquisite play, beauty and entertainment, exactly what I so loved about the Brazilian game. The Uruguayans and Argentinians – Lionel Messi apart – wont complain so much, they were never avid proponents of the beautiful game, those teams have always revolved around tactics of cynical spoiling. There were also those brutal Brazilian defenders but, they were hopeless tacklers not scheming professionally nuanced, win at all costs merchants. Brazil has learned from the bitter experience, suffered at the hands of the Dutch in the 2010 tournament. Disappointingly, not having beaten them, four years on, they have joined the ranks of football bruisers and spoilers; interestingly enough the Brazil players all play, or have played, in the European game. The likes, of: Hulk, Oscar, Marcelo, Fred, et al, are Brazilian but, they don’t play Brazilian football. Scholari should be burnt on a bonfire, for selecting such an unimaginatively dissatisfying squad. The irreparable damage he has inflicted on the Brazilian game, and football as a whole, will send tremors echoing into the future; football is dead!

Beware South American Retribution:

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Yeah! The World cup has inflamed myriad possibilities: intimating hoped for, world peace. Side-stepping religion, it has brought world populations to their benevolent knees. Apart from Uruguay and the Dutch cheat, there has been very little conscientious dissent – football related, of course; bearing in mind, Arjen Robben – seen wilfully scraping his deceitful foot, over the planted – prostrate – extremities of the Mexican captains foot, to cheat himself to a penalty, and those media-vampires. singing Europe’s praises – on Robben’s behalf – FIFA has literally condoned cheating, being non-committal over Robben’s undeniable offence; he admitted everything, to deflect away from the real malaise of his game; Wenger told us during the Champions League.
You must remember: the Mexicans spent four (4) crucially hopeful years, preparing for the glory of Brazil 2014. it is so unjust – virtually criminal – to see them lose in such an insidious way. Cheating is never nice – in the most understandable of circumstances – but, in football, at the world cup, it becomes immorally lasting, and, for decades to come.
The competition approaches the ‘quarters’, with all the group winners – true to form – advancing to positions, enabling them to compete for the final four places; with the exception of two big guns – England and Spain – all the notable world powers are present, and correct: Columbia and Costa Rica have usurped the two aforementioned declining powers.
Columbia, poetically, burn a torch for the Escobar injustice and, what a team they are turning out to be; apart from Robin Van Persie’s superlative – one in a million – flying headed goal, there is non to even approach disputing James Rodriguez’s synchronic convolution, of: time, space and movement, sublimely executed. His goal, like Van Persies’s, is truly incredible. Rodriguez and Cuadrado have been statutes of memory which, wont be forgotten in the annals of world cup folklore. They have both been scintilatingly brilliant – like Messi, who we have grown used to – and if any team is to prevent Brazil, from reaching the final, it should be them.
The USA, over the past four world cups, have attained a level of participation which is both, undeniably incredulous and, equally, remarkable. They have no need to be afraid of any international team, after: humbling both Portugal – who they should have beaten – and Germany who, were fortunate to be the beneficiaries of Tim Howards one notable mistake, a; point missed by those media-gods, who are reckoned to be infallible. The states had their stars too: not least being their substitute right back, who seemed to be awfully young and – excusing his last minute blunder against Portugal – the irrepressible, non-tiring Mr Bradley; he was their complete engine room. They will, eventually, generate a team of young competitive superstars in future world cups. I am overly impressed with their contribution and what they achieved. My goodness! They dumped Portugal and Ghana – who were quarter-finalists in South Africa – out, at the group stage; Klinsman is a genius.
Well! The show goes on: there can only be two finalist, and one winner. The Dutch, I personally feel, peaked much too early so Costa Rica gives them a chance, an opportunity to rein back their horses and return to normal cruising speed; they have, by far, the easiest route to the semi-finals; England would have beaten Costa Rica, if the stakes were higher. Whoever the Dutch meet, after Costa Rica, I cannot envisage them proceeding any further, especially; with the handicap Robben has placed on himself; lightning speed is not enough, to be a truly great player. Sweden’s Dennis Rohmedhal paid testimony to that.
The French seem to, not relish man-to-man marking and, at this stage of the competition, that deficit wont go unnoticed; Pogba may even get sent off, if he plays and someone does a job on him – marking him too tightly. Will they beat Germany? It’s highly debatable but, if Germany start with Schurrler and Muller, bearing in mind Shwinesteiger will be a doubt, it’s going to be touch and go – maybe even penalties.
I have always liked Brazil and Argentina – nothing to do with sentiment. Because, they are experiencing title-winning learning curves – both emotionally and physically. The very hard, sapping games are preparing them for the heat of battle; helping them to progressively generate finely tuned team ethics. The pundits panned Di Maria but, he and Mascherano are steadily trying to alleviate Messi’s unfeasible workload and, in so doing, encouraging their team mates to step up, progressively.
I am quite sure, Banana skins permitting, they will meet in the final – after all, they are the two best teams in South America. I feel Brazil’s biggest danger is Columbia; anyone after that will be meat and drink to them. Argentina will, also, definitely make the final if they overcome Belgium, who are a real live banana skin.
If they do meet in the final: win or lose, Messi will prove he is, undoubtedly, the best player in the world – because he really is; Christiano Ronaldo was made: Messi, Neymar and James Rodriguez are born to Be.

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