What is it about the name Paul? Half the world becomes convinced that an octopus is psychic and half of Paul Gascoigne thinks that a murderer wants to do a spot of fishing. Rather worryingly, that was his sane half. We need to return to normality and thankfully this is where I step in. For all of you who have been taken in by Paul the Octopus, you need to watch this. He’s not psychic. He’s a chancer. Just like me.
1. Gerd Muller. German World Cup Winner in 1974. He looked like a girl.
2. Mario Kempes. Argentine World Cup Winner in 1978. He looked like a girl who didn’t care. She probably had hairy armpits too.
3. Bruno Conti. Italian World Cup Winner in 1982. He looked like a butch girl and someone had just stolen her skipping rope.
4. Maradona. Argentine World Cup Winner in 1986. He looked like a petulant girl intrigued by her very first waft of something illegal.
5. Rudi Voller. German World Cup Winner in 1990. He looked like a girl who had just sat on a pile of marbles and was beginning to like it.
6. Branco. Brazilian World Cup Winner in 1994. He looked like a girl who may well once have been a boy. And quite possibly a murderer.
7. Emmanuel Petit. French World Cup Winner in 1998. He looked like a girl who had just caught her reflection in a window and realised her ginger moustache was catching the sun a bit too much.
8. Ronaldinho. Brazilian World Cup Winner in 2002. He looked like a girl who was struggling to get the hang of her straighteners.
9. Andrea Pirlo. Italian World Cup Winner in 2006. He looked like a girl who had accidentally come across a car park full of doggers and just couldn’t take his eyes off it.
10. Carles Puyol. Spanish World Cup Winner in 2010. He looks like the kind of girl who just doesn’t want to be left out.
1. Un-likeability. Almost every successful World Cup team contains at least one thoroughly un-likeable character: Maradona, Rudi Voller, Gerd Muller and Marco Materazzi are all World Cup winners and in their squad the Netherlands have diving, whinging, sour-faced git Arjen Robben (the only thoroughly un-likeable Dutch person), so they’re bound to succeed. How we’ll all loathe him when he lifts the World Cup aloft on Saturday. But, there’s always one.
2. The War. The two nations that will be involved in the World Cup final have history and, when the Netherlands walk out to play, they’ll do so thinking about the war and bearing a grudge. They’ll take to the field having been fired-up in the build-up to the final by reminders of their historical enmity with their opponents. The Dutch revolt and the Eighty Years War will be on their minds and they’ll want to beat the Spaniards. That’s right, Spain. We know they’ll be playing Spain, because Paul the octopus said so.
3. Harmony. The Dutch always fall out with each other during the World Cup; internecine squabbling has undermined their performances at football tournaments time after time. At this World Cup though, they haven’t fallen out. Their whole squad seems united and with common purpose (perhaps disliking Arjen Robben is a common bond for them). Whatever it is, they seem to be getting on like a house on fire. And fire, remember, is orange.
4. Colour. The Dutch team play in orange, and if there’s one thing I know about Orange, it’s that their customer service is excellent. The customers of the Dutch team (their supporters) can enjoy the match safe in the knowledge that their team will go the extra mile to satisfy them. Also like Orange, their coverage is very good too, with Dirk Kuyt working hard and popping up in all areas of the pitch to tackle people and to shoot at the corner flag. I know that’s two things I know about Orange but I got carried away. And while I’m on the subject, as a special bonus fact for you, my wife has just told me that nothing rhymes with orange.*
5. Germany. The best team by a long way in the tournament has been Germany but, as the octopus has predicted that they won’t be in the final, this means that Spain will have knocked them out. This will probably take a lot of effort (perhaps even extra time) and, with a day less rest than the Netherlands, an already out of sorts looking Fernando Torres, and an injured Cesc Fabregas, Spain will not be effective opponents in the final against the Dutch. They’ll have worn themselves out chasing Özil. Or trying to find him on the pitch even. He seems able to disappear and reappear somewhere entirely different unnoticed by opponents.
6. Their name. Part of the motivation for the players will undoubtedly be national pride. After all, the Netherlands is a country which has produced countless gifted teams but has never won anything at the World Cup. Ah, just like Spain, I hear you say. The difference with the Netherlands though, is that at least everyone knows that Spain is called España. Most people seem to think that the Netherlands is called Holland, which is actually the name of a couple of provinces. It’s like calling the United Kingdom Wales. They’ll want to go out there and ensure that we get their name right in future.
7. Spain. It’s summer in Spain, and this means that a substantial part of their population currently consists of Britons. And look how well our teams fared at the World Cup. They don’t have a hope.**
*This doesn’t seem quite right to me, nothing rhymes better with puffin.
**Though at 7 Reasons, we haven’t been right about anything at all during this World Cup, so perhaps they do.
It’s Sunday again and, now that the World Cup has reached the semi-final stage, there’s no football today. So, what better way to spend our time than thinking about football? Not making predictions, obviously, our track record there is worse than…well…anything. We predicted that England would beat Germany handsomely and yesterday, half of the 7 Reasons team confidently stated that the German defence would be no match for this man.
So, today we won’t be speculating on anything that might happen in the semis or the final. We’re shying away from conjecture and sticking to observation. Here are some World Cup doppelgangers that we’ve spotted during the tournament so far.
Do you look like anyone that’s played a part in World Cup 2010? If so, get in touch and send us pictures, we might add you to this page. Unless, of course, you look like Carlos Tevez. We don’t want nightmares.
Ever wondered what would happen if you started a Mexican wave in your own living room? I did. I thought it through during the Brazil vs. Chile match last night. I won’t be starting one.
1. I’ll look foolish. My wife won’t join in. As I enthusiastically stand up and raise my arms aloft, she’ll gaze disdainfully over her knitting at me while rooted to the spot. I’ll look like a fool.
2. She’ll look foolish. My wife joins in. As – in response to me – she enthusiastically stands, raises her arms aloft, and jubilantly hurls her knitting ceiling-ward, I’ll gaze at her contemptuously at her thinking why is she joining in? She looks like a fool.
3. We’ll both look foolish. Our cat won’t join in. He will gaze, apparently aghast, at the cretinous behaviour of the simpletons on the other sofa. Why are they not paying me any attention? What the hell are they doing? They look like fools.
4. The cat will look foolish. The cat joins in. My wife and I will gaze, slack-jawed, at the astonishing behaviour of the creature on the other sofa. The useless animal can’t even catch birds. Why is his only talent the Mexican wave? Wow! Okay, it’s quite cool though.
5. Our neighbour will look foolish. He won’t join in. He will, however, stare incredulously as he glimpses our Mexican wave through his living room window. When he says, as an aside, to his wife, “Have you seen what the weird couple from across the street are up to now…Good lord! Is that a cat performing a Mexican wave?” He’ll look like a fool. His wife will wonder whether to ration his port.
6. Our neighbour’s wife will feel foolish. She won’t join in. She will, however, glance furtively for the remainder of the World Cup – at her vociferously adamant husband’s insistence – to glimpse the Mexican waving cat through our living room window *. Having invested a substantial amount of time dubiously looking for something so incredible and unlikely, she’ll feel like a fool. What am I doing? I’m trying to see a cat do a Mexican wave. Is this how it started with Aunt Hilda?
7. South America will feel foolish. After all, if Brazil had played with a bit more flair, and Chile had more of a cutting edge in attack I wouldn’t even have been considering doing a Mexican wave in my own living room. I’d have been fixated on the football. Like I was during Mexico vs. Argentina. Or most of the other matches. Is this the most convoluted way of saying “dull match” ever?
*Our cat absolutely, categorically does not join in with Mexican waves. Please stay away from our windows during the World Cup. There is nothing to see here. Except for a man eating crisps, a woman knitting and a dozing cat.
England missed the boat yesterday. Thankfully, they are still in time for the bus.
1. Public Transport. After their performance at this World Cup the players may as well get used to travelling on the bus. Except Stephen Warnock. He didn’t do much wrong. In fact, did anyone see him? Even once? Oh, and if you are worried about David James fare dodging, don’t worry. With Upson and Terry sitting either side of the aisle the ticket inspector will be able to stroll right down the middle.
2. Gears. Travelling on the bus will be a nice reminder to the lads that getting out of first gear doesn’t necessarily mean you have go into reverse.
3. Control. The idea of having an open-top bus is so that people can throw things at the players. I know this sounds quite ridiculous, but hear me out. I am not talking about stones or John Terry’s collection of conquest knickers, I am talking about balls. Keep throwing balls at Rooney and I am absolutely convinced he will regain his touch around Piccadilly Circus. Just in time for Euro2012. Call it a public service.
4. Gerrard-Barry-Lampard-Milner. That’s right. One last look at this midfield line-up before Gerrard goes and sits at the front of the bus. Just behind Rooney.
5. Closing-down. When have you ever seen a bus driver sit back from the car in front? Exactly, never. He gets right up their backside. Or ‘bumper’ as it is more commonly known. Another reminder to the England players that closing down is a decent tactic. Especially if you’d like the ball back.
6. Posizione, Posizione, Posizione. Fabio Capello said after the win against Slovenia that he had found his team. Unfortunately, come 3pm on Sunday, he had carelessly lost them. If we get all the players on a bus and give Capello a map, I reckon he might be able to find them again. Then perhaps he’d like to drive the bus to Oman. And I don’t care if they take the long route.
7. Penalties. We didn’t lose on them! All in all, it was quite a pain free exit. Apart from ten minutes just before half-time we always looked like losing/getting annihilated. There was no biting of finger nails. No sweaty palms. No stomach churning. No hiding behind the sofa. Just acceptance. We were absolutely bloody useless. Well done lads. That’s the way to lose.
After an eventful week – in which we concentrated mainly on football, John McEnroe’s hair and lots of funny codes doing lots of unfunny things and destroying the internet in the process – we are taking the day off. Slipping onto the sofa for the very first time is Gina Boiradi. Over to you Gina.
I’m going to start with a rather controversial statement. I hate football. I am a 16-year-old female and I follow Rugby Union and Cricket with all my heart, but I can’t stand watching football – in part due to the awful diving and injury-faking. Nevertheless, I cannot help but watch every single World Cup game. Being English with an Italian father, I watch England and Italy with the same nervousness and delight. After the glorious England game against Slovenia, I tuned into Italy vs Slovakia with the same optimism. Oh dear. Anyway, at least it was an education. Here are the reasons why.
1. Commentators. They are very annoying. They come out with such ridiculous phrases and it makes me very frustated. “Fabio Cannavaro disappears, perhaps forever!” Um, news flash – he’s not dead. Nor has he been ushered away by a mysterious Sicilian bloke making him an offer he can’t refuse.
2. Mucho Do About Nothing. If you are a Slovakian goalkeeper, then you should all consider careers as actors. Seriously. Mucho was diving all over the bloody place with such melodrama, Dame Helen Mirren would be proud. I can see an Oscar nomination and an appearance in “The Bill” coming up right away.
3. Referees. Not all English referees are as hopeless as Graham Poll. Howard Webb did grand trying to contain the players. Diving, falling, tripping, fighting. It was a referee’s nightmare, yet he soldiered on. Even adding additional time onto the additional time because of Slovakia’s obvious time wasting. Good on him.
4. Papa’s Army. There is such a thing as too old a squad. Approximately 79% of the Italian squad were over 65*. I was ever so worried one of them may pop their hip out, or some other stereotypical pensioner ailment. Four years ago, that Italian team were in their prime (obviously, as they won) but now they are old. Bless ’em.
5. Iaquinto. He scares me silly. He is a man I wouldn’t want to meet in a dark, Italian alley. Or any other alley for that matter. But also seems like a right lovely bloke. Also, he adds some needed eye candy for us female viewers. Even if his nose is like a vuvuzela.
6. Pretty Boys. Posing, oiled-up in your undies is very good for your World Cup playing abilities. Beckham did it and, even though he’s not playing, England are doing well (Come On England!). The Portuguese captain I refuse to mention by name since last World Cup’s winking incident (I shall call him “The Winker” from now on) did it, and Portugal are also through. The Italian team did it 4 four years ago and they won. I’m getting distracted by images of oily Italians in undies. I shall move on.
7. It’s All In the Name. Bringing on substitutes with extraordinarily long names will do wonders when you are struggling. Quagliarella was brought on and scored a goal that got the ball rolling again (no pun intended) and provided the kick up the backside (again, no pun intended) needed by Italy – but sadly, too little, too late. England need a few subsitutes called “Hamilton-Wilkins” or “Mandeville-Brown” or something.
*Disclaimer: may not be true.
It’s been a fraught week at 7 Reasons (.org). First we upgraded the website, then we redesigned the website, then we had a catastrophic failure of the website which left us offline for a day and then we fixed it, and are still tinkering with it to make it more stable. This caused confusion. We didn’t know whose turn it was to post yesterday. So, being diligent, conscientious humourists, we both wrote one. Sadly, we found our inspiration in the same subject. Fortunately though, we both said completely different things so, with apologies to readers in Australia, South Africa and Greece, we’re writing about England versus Germany again today. And possibly on Monday too (we’re a bit excited by it all).
1. The Great Escape. As comedy genius Bob Mills has observed, playing The Great Escape theme at England matches is pointless and out of context. On Sunday though, it could be in context. If we win, we will liberate ourselves from decades of World Cup tyranny at the hands of Germany. It actually could be a great escape. This may be the first match at which hearing The Great Escape played atonally on a trumpet will be meaningful, rather than just primal-scream-inducingly irritating. Then, perhaps, we won’t have to hear it again.
2. 5-1. The spectre of their ignominious defeat will loom large in the German consciousness. When we beat Germany 5-1 in Munich in 2001, Steven Gerrard was the architect of a lot that was good about our performance. And now he’s our captain! That should put the fear of God into them. Also, they can’t be unaware of the popular refrain, “5-1, even Heskey scored”, and Heskey’s in the squad too, so the Germans are at a psychological disadvantage before the game even starts. “Nein nein nein, es ist das Ziel Maschine, Heskey” will be the fearful reaction of the Germans upon his introduction to the game. Gerrard seems really up for it too. On Wednesday he said of the Germany game, “Bring it on!” . Well, he said “Brincchhh ii on”, in a voice so high that it startled dogs – I’ve had it translated.
3. Tyldesley. In commentary on Germany versus Ghana, Clive Tyldesley said, “…it’s a different Germany than we’ve seen in past tournaments”. This is excellent news. If Clive is right – and anyone who’s met a man named Clive will know that Clives are never wrong – this can only be good for us. After all, in past tournaments (except the one where the Russian linesman helped out), the Germany that we’ve seen have knocked us out (often on penalties). Bring on the different Germany!
4. Beer. Fabio Capello is coming to terms with the new challenges of managing at international tournament level. When we played well in the match against Slovenia…Slovakia?…no, almost certainly Slovenia, Fabio Capello attributed our much improved performance to permitting the England squad to drink beer on the night before the game. Germans, as we know, consume most of their beer in October so their team won’t realise its performance potential until November, by which time the match will definitely be over. It’s not tennis, after all. Is that match still going?
5. Common Bond. Germany and England have so much in common: They eat sausages, we eat sausages; they drink beer, we drink beer; they drive BMWs, we drive BMWs; they dress up in braces and leather hotpants and put a feather in their hatbands and slap each other’s bottoms, we…er…well…we don’t. Because it’s weird. But I doubt that lederhosen is what makes them good at penalties and, sooner or later, given that they’re so similar a nation to us, they’ll cock them up. After all, if the match goes to penalties Germany will have the pressure of expectation weighing on their shoulders. England certainly won’t.
6. Confidence. England had an uncertain start to World Cup 2010 but, on the evidence of Wednesday’s performance, we seem to be growing in confidence. We don’t have the self-possessed surety that the Brazil and Argentina teams seem to be imbued with, but there’s a way that we can attain that: By beating Germany. If we beat them on Sunday, our team will get the monkey off our back and will feel that they can take anyone on. The traditional obstacle to England’s progression in world cup tournaments will have been removed and we’ll believe we can accomplish anything. Except a Heskey goal, obviously, no one (except Germany) expects that.
7. Defences. The German defence looks suspect. Ghana created – and spurned – countless opportunities against them. The most notable of these occurred after thirteen minutes when Germany were totally undone by a fluid passing move at the right hand side of their penalty area. Sound familiar? Correct. That’s the same area that all of the brilliant creative interplay between Gerrard and Rooney took place in the England versus Slovenia match. They won’t be able to defend against it. “Take that, Mertesacker!” will be a particularly enjoyable thing to exclaim during the match when we score against them.
Our defence will be able to contain them. Most of the good attacking German play in this World Cup has occurred on the wings. And we have two fantastic fullbacks with Gerrard and Milner in front of them who’ll track back too. I don’t know what we’ll exclaim when we prevent them from scoring against us. “Blimey”, probably, or “crumbs”. But that’s what’s going to happen. We can win this. Be glad that we’re playing Germany on Sunday. Well…at least until kick-off. Then feel anxious as usual.
1. Ze German Edlines. The German hacks are primed to write such classics as So Klose, But So Far. Although obviously they’ll write it in German. So it’ll be something like Zo Klose, But Zo Var. Basically, Miroslav Klose is going to take a shot from 50-yards which ricochets off the crossbar, flies up the other end of the pitch and finds the net. Net result England 1-0 Germany. German hacks have their headlines.
2. Ze Tactics. I am sure you have been wondering why Capello continues to play Gerrard on the left. It took me a while to work it out too. But finally I have. It’s all about balance. And ultimately making the opposition cock-up. Glen Johnson can’t defend for toffee (which is annoying because he loves the stuff). Anyway, the opposition think they should try and take advantage of this and attack down the left flank. However, because Gerrard tends to move away from his position on the left, the opposition see the gap on the right flank and wonder whether they should attack on that side. All this confusion results in them trying to compromise. And compromising means attacking straight down the middle. Right into Barry, Terry and Upson. It’s classic mind game stuff and the reason Capello is the genius that he is.
3. Ze Names. The Germans are named after lagers. A pint of Mertesacker. A pint of Schweinsteiger. A pint of Trochowski. The English are named after musicians. (David) James and (Gareth) Barry White. Oh, and there’s (John) Terry’s Chocolate Orange. You’re going to perform so much better if you listen to James and Barry White while munching on one of Terry’s Chocolate Oranges pre-game, than if you are downing three pints of lager.
4. Ze Beckenbauer. Franz said we have reverted to ‘kick and rush’ in this World Cup. How dare he! We don’t rush. We hang back and hope. Karma is a bitch and Beckenbauer will be summoned by Angela Merkel to explain why he gave the English such a great pep talk.
5. Ze 27 June. It’s Sieben Schlagfertig in Germany. Which is a day basically celebrated by muppets. If it rains on this day, it will apparently rain for the next seven weeks. I like the idea of raining on Germany’s parade and then continuously beating the Germans for seven weeks.
6. Ze Missing Of Ze Goals. Gerrard’s goal against the USA was missed by many because ITV decided to show an advert. Defoe’s goal against Slovenia was missed by many because the work experience boy at EDF Energy pressed the off button. England didn’t score against Algeria because everyone was watching. The simple conclusion to make is that I need to buy 10 million extension leads and forty million kettles. If I do that and press the on switch at 2:59pm on Sunday, I reckon I might just be able to blow a fuse somewhere on the National Grid and cause absolute chaos. We’ll all miss the game, but England will win 4-0. Don’t thank me, thank the nice people at Argos who are about to get a very big order.
7. Ze Zeven Reasons. I have drafts of 7 Reasons England Will Beat Argentina, 7 Reasons England Will Beat Portugal and 7 Reasons Why It’s Second Time Lucky For England And They Will Beat The USA ready to go. You can’t buy this kind of motivation. The England boys want to read my work. They are in a win-to-read position now. Which is so much more impressive than a boring win-t0-be-MBEs position.
Sometimes, words are not enough. But that’s okay, we can always fall back on music and pictures.
