"You and I travel to the beat of a different drum..."

ENGLAND’S World Cup flops didn’t leave the World Cup entirely empty-handed – and that’s without counting the smokes and booze.
Ashley Cole and Jermain Defoe both have bulky new adornments for the mantelpiece, whether at Jermain’s dear old mum’s house or wherever Ashley lays his hat at nights these days.
In the face of non-existent competition, both players picked up official man of the match awards this summer – Cole against Algeria, Defoe versus Slovenia.
Not for prize sponsors Budweiser a same-old-same-old silver plate, trophy or figurine.
Instead, they are handing players a more distinctive keepsake, designed by a South African graduate and modelled on a traditional ‘djembe’ drum.
Jonathan Fundudis said he wanted his glass-and-wood sculpture to capture ‘the universal languages of rhythm and football in the form of an iconic African instrument’.
‘Drumming is an integral part of African life – it celebrates life and unity,’ he added.
‘The same can be said of this beautiful game of football – look at how the World Cup has unified our country.’
Ten players have received two of the trophies, including Keisuke Honda and Cristiano Ronaldo who both go home with three tucked under their arms.
But the drums now back on English soil might end up in a home no one could have expected – that is, poor hapless Emile Heskey’s.
As the England squad slunk off their plane at Heathrow on Tuesday morning, the misfiring striker’s young children could be seen playing with one of the prizes.
While, incidentally, grinning at the same time, but perhaps they at least can be let off for that.
*
WHAT with all their provocative cigar-smoking, lunch-guzzling, holiday-booking and – get this - smiling, England’s World Cup flops continue to leave a bad impression.
Yet they responded to earlier exits by enjoying a rather better impression.
It’s tricky to imagine Fabio Capello responding with calm if he caught a member of the England camp impersonating him behind his back.
Yes, even the rather desperate Capello of recent days, forcibly grinning Gordon Brown-style when joking about free beers or now pleading about how much he ‘likes’ his job.
Yet former FA insider Dan Freedman found himself confronted by Sven-Goran Eriksson in the hours after the 2002 quarter-final defeat to Brazil – and ordered to ‘do’ the Swede in front of the class, to help lighten the tension.
Freedman, now author of children’s football fiction including new book Man Of The Match, recalls: ‘He took it in good spirits, but I was absolutely full of nerves at the time.’
He now writes football novels for children about wonderkid winger Jamie Johnson, including new book Man Of The Match – promising a happier ending than England’s woeful World Cup.
‘I had to create Jamie Johnson because, at the moment, we simply don't have a player like him in reality,’ he added.
According to another incident Freedman remembers, Capello’s men might count themselves lucky only to be showered in abuse this time.
‘When we lost away in Croatia, some fans who were kept in the upper part of the ground after the game even urinated on the players as they made their way on to the team coach,’ he shuddered.
Perhaps the players’ displays this summer were their own way of doing it back.
*
LIONEL Messi is ‘The Spark’, Diego Forlan is ‘The Bomber’, David Villa is ‘The Blaze' and John Paintsil is ‘The Engine’.
No, it’s not the set-up for a new Fifa film franchise, a World Cup version of ‘The Fantastic Four’ – even if the basso profundo film-trailer voiceover man could really give some oomph to Bastian Schweinsteiger.
(‘The Illusionist, in case you were wondering – perhaps it was he who convinced Mauricio Espinosa the ball didn’t cross the line.)
Instead, these are just some of the try-hard titles given to a set of paintings on display in the swanky Johannesburg suburb of Sandton.
According to the exhibition’s major sportswear firm backers, Steve Gerrard is, apparently, ‘The Powerhouse’.
Alas, his portrait appears to have been based not on the kind of all-action display sadly missing this summer, but an old photo of Gerrard as a perky-faced schoolboy.
The kind of picture to make even the most rampant powerhouse wail: ‘Muuuuuum!’
Jozy Altidore, incidentally, is described as ‘The Trigger’, even if he played more like a carthorse last Saturday.
And here's Kaka, looking like his much-discussed fitness concerns aren't necessarily injury-related:

*
MISCHIEVOUS Diego Maradona keeps on happily lashing out at Press conferences that have had to become ticket-only.
Now Italian hardman Claudio Gentile has retaliated after being labelled ‘a killer’, by dismissing the Argentina coach as ‘a buffoon’.
The pair went toe to toe – or, rather, boot to shin – in a 1982 World Cup clash, after which the less-than-genteel Gentile reminded his indignant victim this wasn’t dancing-class.
Maradona could dish out a kicking himself, as shown by a red card that tournament and infamous streetfight-style footage from the 1984 Spanish Cup final.
Earlier this week, he condemned Ricardo La Volpe as ‘a traitor’ after the former Argentina goalkeeper and ex-Mexico coach said he would cheer on the Mexicans last Sunday.
Twenty years ago, Maradona was provocatively urging the locals to snub their own homeland and support Argentina in their Naples semi-final at Italia 90.
Consistency has never really been part of Maradona’s make-up – and perhaps that’s all just part of the fun.
*
AFTER all the doomy, gloomy fears and warnings yesterday finally brought the nightmare everyone knew must come but no one wanted to imagine.
For the first time in 20 days, there was not a single minute of live football.
And what’s more, there’s another 24 hours without it today.
Stay strong. Together we can get through this. See you on the other side.

"All we are saying is give pace a chance..."

“We failed to slow them down.”
Perhaps it was just the customary sombre tone – and slumping head – that made Marcelo Bielsa’s resigned post-match verdict sound so sad, as if he was announcing the end of the world rather than Chile’s World Cup.
Yet there was something both poignant in his distress, and yet admirable in the reminder his words gave of Brazil’s thrilling pace in attack – and Chile’s valiant attempts to fight back.
Even when 3-0 down, an unfortunately emphatic scoreline, Bielsa’s now widely-admired team kept pressing, kept passing, kept trying to keep Brazil pinned back without sacrificing their own commitment to open spaces and fluid movement.
Quality tells in the end too, of course – meaning Brazil could not only ultimately overpower their willing opponents, but also counter-attack with more devastating effect than Portugal could manage 24 hours on.
Like their brothers-in-language, Portugal were set up against Spain to absorb pressure and hit back on the break.
But unlike Dunga’s men, Portugal lacked – as, seemingly, ever – a lethal finisher after the fashion of Luis Fabiano, or playmakers accelerating quite like Kaka or Robinho.
While Chile – as against Spain – hurtled forward from kick-off in high-energy style, they were a little too fuzzy up-front with enganche Jean Beausejour less menacing than he might have been on the wing – or Valdivia or Fernandez might have been in his place.
Humberto Suazo almost tried to do too much, proving somehow too elusive, as he flitted from tip of attack to deep in midfield – and claiming almost every set-piece for himself.
Yet they remained attractive to watch as ever, even after being undone by a quickfire brace – Juan’s basic pummelling header from a basic lofted corner, then a treat of technique linking Robinho, Kaka and scorer Fabiano.
Brazil’s third goal, while harsh, was another one whisked out of the (yellow-and-)blue, created by a driving-running Ramires and swept home by Santos homeboy, the rejuvenated Robinho.
Dunga, talking a surprisingly patient and informative game afterwards, suggested Robinho was now combining both tactical nous – and free-spirited fulfilment.
‘Robinho’s played in varied positions and he asked me, “What is my function?”
‘I asked if he didn’t feel a bit constrained with his positioning. He said, “No, I just want to play and I just want to score.”’
The man who once boasted of ‘no more joga bonito’ is placing trust in his players to at least make their own minds up, though evidently with instructions when it comes to defending – seven men, at least, back when conceding possession – and other (almost-paradoxical) commands to be flexible.
‘My players have the liberty to play,’ he insists.
‘I try to give them advice, to guide them to have the best performance. So we know when the midfield is very closed, we try to go down the flanks, for example.
‘We’re fortunate enough to have players who can play in different positions. Robinho can exchange positions with Kaka, for example.
‘Kaka moved more down the wings and Robinho’s positioning confused the Chilean defence a little bit and this allowed us to score.’
Very big on giving a ‘for example’ each time, perhaps this is Dunga the pragmatist, Dunga the empiricist.
But as Woody Allen’s new film suggests, Whatever Works, and so far the Brazilian approach does, and with slightly more dazzle than the Dunga reputation going before him.
They’ve certainly offered a little more excitement than a Dutch team that really is grinding out results, though always with the promise of more expansiveness ahead – whenever they want, whenever they need.
A third World Cup meeting with Brazil since 1994 this Friday will surely have to enliven them, especially in revenge for those two previous defeats.
Spain, of course, should have a much smoother task ahead when facing Paraguay on Sunday, especially after Gerardo Martino’s men barely squeezed past Japan.
Their penalty shoot-out in Pretoria was of a much higher quality than the 120 minutes preceding, both teams looking understandably cautious as each teetered on the brink of a first ever last-eight place.
Yet Spain too still looked to be playing a little within themselves, in inching past Iberian rivals Portugal thanks to another David Villa goal.
The fact he fluffed the first shot before sweeping in the rebound with his other foot might detract slightly from the majesty of the winner, though yet again it was his new Barca team-mate Andres Iniesta providing an assist with utmost precision.
In fact, the (eventual) finish only emphasised what an inexorable goalscorer Villa is – his seventh in seven World Cup appearances suggested even when he does miss, he still scores merely a split-second later.
The breakthrough goal came just minutes after Fernando Torres was withdrawn, having looked – if anything – even more lumpen than ever. If he’s the Spanish Emile Heskey – ideally, creating the space allowing Villa to flourish – then tonight he proved as irrelevant as the actual Heskey is to the other Villa.
More encouraging signs were there, including another rampant display by Sergio Ramos – one of the few who were relatively subdued at Euro 2008, but here in South Africa storming down the right without looking too much of a liability behind.
Rumours suggest Jose Mourinho intends to shift him back into the middle of the backline at Real Madrid, but even ‘The Special One’ might struggle to restrain him entirely.
Despite all Spain’s possession, Portugal did manage to stymie them for more than an hour – and not only thanks to some robust and well-timed heroics from Braga goalkeeper Eduardo.
The Portuguese even managed to create the most clear-cut – if opportunistic – chances in the first half, only to be let down as ever by their substandard striking. Echoes of Pauleta – at tournaments, anyway – all over again.
And a subdued – and, later, sullen – Ronaldo certainly didn’t help, either the team he was supposedly captaining or those sportswear executives spooked by an alleged ‘Nike curse’.
A shamelessly blame-shifting Ronaldo suggested after the game, perhaps having received tuition at Patrice Evra’s captaincy academy: ‘Blame Queiroz.’
But his peripheral performances, both in qualifying and on the South African stage, will reasonably see questions asked of by far the world’s most expensive player.
As one of his Nike pals might put it instead – all together, one two three: ‘D’oh!’

"Just like a wavin' flag..."

WORLD Cup referees went back to school today – and not before time, you might well think.
All those not on match duty elsewhere were called to class at Pretoria's F H Odendaal school, to practice such fiendish tasks as running with a flag in hand or not getting hit by the ball.
Well, not quite everyone was there to answer the register – predictably enough, despite assurances to the contrary, two under-fire refs sent notes to excuse their absence.
Roberto Rossi and England’s villain Jorge Larrionda both opted to spend the day in their hotel rooms instead of facing colleagues – or, more understandably perhaps, the mouth-foaming Press.
While those two dunces stayed in bed, England’s last man standing Howard Webb could saunter around as school swot having achieved the remarkable feat of ... making no major blunders so far.
(While, admittedly, doing about as sensibly as could be when both Italy and Slovenia started playing silly beggars - resisting temptation to flash a red card or several, that might only have turned the closing moments even more chaotic.)
He even felt comfortable enough chatting about – while, of course, playing down – his chances of being given the final, the refereeing equivalent of being made head boy.
And there was a visit by former pupil Urs Meier, who might have offered Larrionda advice on being England’s public enemy number one – though there’s more competition this time from the coach and players.
Meier was the Euro 2004 official who had the audacity to disallow Sol Campbell’s late ‘winner’ against Portugal, merely because an opponent attacked the elbow of England’s Brave John Terry.
But despite suffering torment by tabloid in 2004 – with nuisance calls and death threats from England’s lunatic fringe – magnanimous Meier was yesterday surprisingly sympathetic.
He spoke out in favour of goal-line technology – and insisted serving officials all agreed, but were too frightened to speak out until safely retired.
Those running today’s lessons – including hapless headmaster figure, refs’ boss Jose Maria Aranda - had done their best to recreate match conditions.
The portable plastic goals and patchy training pitches, overlooked by stern redbrick school halls, looked more village green than Soccer City.
But some rickety speakers blared out a recording of incessant vuvuzelas, one to file on your shelves next to Lou Reed’s Metal Machine Music.
Meanwhile, elsewhere Sepp Blatter was making an astonishing apology – and U-turn on video technology – in rather plusher surroundings, a swanky hotel in upmarket Sandton.
His words still got quickly back to refs’ school, however – printed on 200 sheets of A4 and rushed to Pretoria by police escort.
Over-reaction or otherwise, Sepp’s statement was weighty indeed, marking a ‘road to Damascus’ conversion – if, indeed, this proves more than just a time-stalling sop to be kicked back into long grass when – that is, if – the current fuss fades.
It could yet mean war with Uefa president Michel Platini, if his pet project of two extra assistant referees on the touchlines actually gets moved to the sidelines instead.
But then, Blatter is bidding for Fifa re-election next summer and might be vulnerable to someone promising populist reform.
And ven the folksy-talking, ‘Teflon Sepp’ must have felt embarrassed on Sunday, the afternoon that left English, Uruguayans and Swiss all for various reasons sent to the bottom of the class.

"Whistle a tune and think of a catchy, happy little song..."

LOOK a little on the sunny side, advised the Kinks – even when you feel you’re on the slide.
Easier said done yesterday morning after the nightmare before, especially with the usually crystal-clear sky above South Africa surprisingly clogged by grey clouds – just waiting to envelop England’s plane.
The drizzly gloom made it more of an effort to find signs of cheer, though for those of us lucky to be sticking around there are of course plenty – from the richest enjoyment to the smallest of pleasures.
For a start, not everyone in the England squad comes out badly – Michael Dawson, at least, has played a blinder.
Just recalling his beaming, tongue-wagging excitement when bounding on to a Rustenburg-bound plane must toast even the chilliest heart – even if he did probably spend his surprise holiday parked with Rodney Trotter’s ‘Groovy Gang’ kids.
Then there’s the finishing of Spain’s happy slapper number seven, David proving the most audacious Villa outside a Donald Trump estate.
Or the finishing, for alternative entertainment, of Nigeria’s too-well-fed Yak.
That wise(ish) new greybeard Diego Maradona, on the touchline or at ticket-only press briefings, in both settings kicking as many balls as he can.
Or his lumbering full-back Gabriel Heinze getting nutted by a camera, then giving it a bit of a slap in return.
The legions of stadium volunteers who refuse to simply point to an allotted seat but insist on clambering all the way with you – only to invariably need extra sherpas sent out for themselves.
Or else the Cameroon fan who made his vuvuzela sound like the chilling saxophone stabs from Bernard Herrmann’s ‘Taxi Driver’ score.
The under-rated ‘keeping of Wigan’s number three Richard Kingson, and the clever tenacity of Kofi’s alleged nephew Anthony Annan – despite looking about as well-built for a holding role as Lionel Messi or Shaun Wright-Phllips.
And the whole Ghana team’s Roy Of The Rovers exploits, from the winner against America to their Melchester Rovers borrowed colours.
Or Jogi Löw’s strangely lovable German whizzkids, or Dunga’s silky yet street-tough Brazilians, or the Uruguay of Sally Gunnell double Diego Forlan – a revelation as poacher-turned-playmaker, even if we’ve probably heard enough now of how he flopped at Old Trafford.
The prospect of Messi taking on his Barca mates, and the laughable fact he somehow still hasn’t scored – and the feeling that after a first, he might just hit five in the final.
And the assurance that an exciting climax can’t now be bogged down by that most tainted ‘golden generation’, stinking out 2010 as they did 2006.
A fair few breaks in the clouds, then, at least.
Even if, for England, it might feel like – to flick to another Kinks track – there was no hope, no reasoning, this rainy day in June.

"They'll hit you and hurt you..."

‘SOME things you will see – and some you will not see.’
So smiled Jerome Valcke, Sepp Blatter’s right-hand man at Fifa, as he talked up officials on the eve of yesterday’s England-Germany encounter.
But he was talking about those providing extra security outside the ground, not the match officials doing so much for English insecurity within.
What at least 15,000 England fans did see – but not one Uruguayan in charge – was that rarest of sightings: a World Cup ‘goal’ by Frank Lampard.
A World Cup shot in target by Lampard was startling enough, which might explain Mauricio Espinosa’s apparent daze.
What then went missing was the equalizer for England, surely sparking campaigns for not only (Monte)video technology, but a 43-year statute of limitations on claiming for goal-line karma.
All this will have been seen by Valcke’s boss Sepp Blatter, a strangely low-profile presence at this World Cup – apart from Blatter’s ‘tweets’, or ‘bleats’, on Twitter.
He had let followers know he was on his way to Bloemfontein, though probably didn’t see the same traffic jams as England fans taking the only main road in – the N1 from Johannesburg.
Struggling along that highway from Jo’burg wouldn’t be England’s last difficulty of the day caused by the route-one approach.
An abandoned, emergency-landed light aircraft sat by the side of the road, about 25km north of the stadium – another odd sight, and perhaps an omen.
A warning that sky-high aspirations might be brought down to earth with a bump?
Or that you won’t go far if you set out with only one proper wing.
Supporters making their way along Bloemfontein’s Nelson Mandela Drive – no South African city should be without one – might have noticed Swiss fans had left a more lasting mark than their team managed.
Spraypainted across street furniture was the optimistic – or perhaps ambiguous – ‘Allez Suisse’. Allez oops.
Perhaps that was done by mischievous Swiss mister Blatter himself.
What no one could have missed inside the stadium itself were English flags everywhere – just as there had been in Rustenburg the previous evening, reminders of how the journey to glory was supposed to pan out.
Back in Bloemfontein when the ref finally ended yesterday’s misery, England fans stooped in the stands or slumped in their seats seemed in no mood to blame him – well, not blame him alone, anyway.
How typically, eccentrically English it all felt, to be so authentically robbed – and yet so emphatically outclassed at the same time.
For what everyone did see yesterday was a sluggish, unimaginative England bamboozled by Germans showing more devastating intelligence, incisiveness and just counter-attacking zip.
Mesut Ozil and Thomas Muller rightly enjoyed the acclaim - along with Joachim Low, who had the faith to promote them from the U-21s, just as Louis Van Gaal fast-tracked and transformed raw Bayern talents into Champions League finalists.
But Bastian Schweinsteiger also showed up - even more - the sorry and out-of-shape Gareth Barry, combining composed rigour in defensive midfield with dynamic and intelligent surges into attack when suitable. A holding-midfielder-PLUS, the instincts and technique of a winger still simmering.
Meanwhile, England - having shifted John Terry uncomfortably to the right of central defence, all the better to showcase Matthew Upson's clod-hopping left foot - remained dulled and doltish throughout.
Even when they did put a few passes together, they tended to be the shortest and most exchanged across a flat-back-four, as if filling a quota before invariably allowing themselves the treat of ... an aimless, witless punt up-field.
Pass-pass-pass-pass ... hoof, back to Neuer.
Germany even did that old English staple, the long ball, better.
On the eve of the match, Valcke also said Fifa never expected a ‘zero-fault’ tournament.
That time he was talking about referees and linesmen – and this time few could argue.
Though he could have been referring to English defenders.

"Never Ghana give you up..."

IN A parallel universe, Wayne Rooney is currently stewing over the second World Cup red card of his career – emulating Rigobert Song and Zinedine Zidane – after again lashing out as England are crashing out.
Perhaps that’s just a little harsh on newly-matured, new father Rooney – or maybe instead tempting fate, as England prepare for that German clash on Sunday afternoon.
Yet it was tempting to imagine, as the US toiled – only to be foiled – against the ‘Black Stars’ of Ghana, just how England might have coped in this apparently-easier fixture.
Having struggled so dismally to penetrate both the US and Algerian defences already, England could well have struggled some more against a formidably compact and well-organised Ghana backline.
A few weary lapses aside - especially as tonight’s extra-time encounter dragged on - it was hard not to admire a defence marshalled by John Mensah and bravely (sometimes foolhardily) bolstered by his young namesake John.
And in front of that granite-hard back four, the ever-diligent, always-pressing, under-sized Anthony Annan – a nephew of Kofi’s, he claims – was keeping both defence and attack ticking neatly over, despite looking like a mascot who just won’t be shooed-off.
For the unlucky USA, twice more caught napping after an opening whistle, Landon Donovan yet again emerged as “Mandon” Donovan.
As dynamic on the pitch this summer as he has been drably taciturn off it, it was his seizing of momentum and surging more purposively forward after half-time that threatened to upend Ghanaian control of the game.
His neat through-ball led to the penalty he himself clipped past the otherwise-excellent – and under-heralded – Wigan sub ‘keeper Richard Kingson.
But despite drawing level, when they should have shifted up several gears more the American momentum somehow again stalled – and Ghana could see out the match if not quite in comfort, then certainly at their own preferred pace.
Perhaps, in the end, the likes of Donovan, Dempsey and coach’s son Michael could do strive so much when carrying lesser drudges such as the error-prone Richard Clark and too many blunt-edged, surprise-call-up strikers.
The sprawling Rustenburg athletics-track stadium perhaps does not quite do full justice to a breakthrough sure to be acclaimed as redemptive for an entire continent, at this African World Cup.
Ghana can certainly expect to benefit from full-throated support throughout the rest of their run – though, as cold-conscious medics are now imploring, do make sure only your own throat has been filling that vuvuzela.
And Soccer City – twice the size – next Friday should certainly be crackling with just a little more charge, even before
But then, before Asamoah Gyan powered his way through to that extra-time winner – his fourth World Cup goal, just one behind the continent’s top scorer, that man Roger Milla – Ghana looked badly in need of a prolific, pure finisher.
Someone like, say, Diego Forlan – or Luis Suarez, this afternoon’s hero with a pearler of a curler, just when it looked like sitting back to soak up South Korean possession might just Uruguay and their unusually-sloppy defenders.
Next Friday should provide, then, an engaging battle between two contrasting – yet both attractive – styles.
In the meantime, Ghana’s energy-sapped, collapsing ‘Black Stars’ should probably catch up on plenty of rest.
They might need it – and they certainly deserve it.

Hod one out...

NICOLAS Sarkozy has been shown a yellow card as the French farce that dumped the country out of this World Cup could now see them barred from future competitions - though the threat could puzzle one ex-England boss with a penchant already for scratching his head...
The French president has ordered an investigation into all that went so disastrously wrong with Raymond Domenech’s revolting squad, who flew home in economy and as first-round flops this week.
But world football chiefs have already been on the phone, warning French politicians to be careful – after all, government interference could break Fifa rules.
Other countries have been suspended from playing international matches – and receiving Fifa money – when governments have meddled in football federation affairs.
At least 15 nations have not only had their wrists slapped but their Fifa membership suspended during the past few years – including three-time offenders Iraq, Euro 2012 hosts Poland and then-reigning European champions Greece.
Euro 2008 winners Spain have also been threatened with Fifa action, a case cited today by Fifa chief executive Jerome Valcke as he insisted the ‘bigger’ footballing countries were not protected species.
He said: ‘It’s like Iraq and other countries, it’s not that because it’s in Europe it’s treated differently.
‘I spoke to the sports ministry office and told them to be very careful, that there can’t be political interference in what’s happened.
‘They can meet, they can discuss, they can ask for apologies from the different people that have been involved.
‘But any time there is interference Fifa will react, for France as for any other country in the world.’
Suspension also means a country loses its vote at Fifa congress – something El Salvador recovered just in time for the summit earlier this month, when their recent ban was lifted.
Iraq received their third sanction in quick succession last November, when the country’s government ordered security forces into the Iraqi Football Federation’s HQ.
Other nations to suffer similar punishments in recent years include Peru, Madagascar, Chad, Ethiopia, Brunei Darussalam and Kuwait (twice).
Poland almost had the Fifa whip withdrawn in 2008 when the government threatened to replace the country’s football association with an administrator, in a row over co-hosting plans for Euro 2012.
And Spain were threatened with similar that year, when the sports minister demanded all sporting bodies hold new presidential elections – before backing down when the Fifa call came through.
What Sarkozy or his motormouthed sports minister Roselyne Bachelot could have done is express their disapproval on a French equivalent of This Morning – Ce matin, perhaps?
After all, it was when subjecting himself to yet another of TV’s toughest grillings that Tony Blair did for England coach Glenn Hoddle, over his comments about the disabled in 1999.

Blair gave just the simple, fateful word ‘Yes’, when worn down by fearsome interrogator Richard Madeley and the query: ‘If Glenn Hoddle has said what he is reported to have said, should he go?’
Within hours the Evening Standard was splashing with his alleged demand for Hod’s head, and sure enough FA bosses quickly made sure Glenn atoned with his job for his current-life sins.
To be fair, this was one regime change that Mr Blair did swiftly regret.
Alistair Campbell’s diaries tell of a genuine camaraderie between the men, sharing sympathy over scrutiny of their respective ‘toughest jobs’ and both being committed to England’s bid to stage the 2006 World Cup.
Well, someone had to be.
Campbell does seem genuine – or, at least as close to genuine as can be – when describing the gloom he and the PM felt, when realising the effect of those This Morning words.
The man who allegedly ‘never said them things I said’ would later admit feeling ‘surprised’ at the PM’s intervention – ‘because he didn’t know the facts, that is what saddened me’.

Glenn’s goose was probably already reaching roasting point, alas, after that diary of his own and the lacklustre opening Euro 2000 qualifiers.
But it’s still sad to recall just how his truly-promising England team of 1997-1998 – well-knitted, composed on the ball and with added Owen – under-achieved, their qualities so quickly squandered.
Graeme Le Saux’s doziness against Romania, David Beckham’s petulance against Argentina – two aberrations that prematurely ended England’s World Cup, in a tournament where only Brazil looked unbeatable.
Only to go on to half-beat themselves.
Tony Blair and the English FA escaped back then – though perhaps it’s only fair Fifa inexplicably weren’t tuning in to Richard and Judy that day.
Both parties would put themselves through plenty of suffering, if not actually sanctions, in the torrid and conflicted years to come. Could be karma...