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NEW ARTICLE: Pique, Maradona and World Cup Jumpers for Goalposts....

Whilst searching in the archives, I stumbled across this article I wrote just before the 2010 World Cup. Would love to hear what was THE World Cup from YOUR childhood.

jumpers-for-goal-posts.jpg

It’s funny the memories that certain events can evoke. With music, it always tends to be things that have occurred in my adult life; a girl, a night out, a holiday etc. But with sporting events it always seems to awaken memories from my childhood.

It was a bed-ridden spell during the summer of 1984 that I first fell in love with athletics. Sixteen nations boycotted the Los Angeles games whilst eleven athletes failed drugs tests, but as an eight-year old I was joyfully oblivious to the politics and darker aspects that sadly dominate sport so greatly. I was enthralled by the elegance of Carl Lewis winning his 4 gold medals, the grace and rhythm of a hurdling Ed Moses, and the acrimony surrounding the Mary Decker / Zola Budd rivalry.

But it was two British athletes that captivated me so greatly, and for contrasting reasons. In Daley Thompson, there was showmanship personified; the smile, the handlebar moustache, the witty interviews, it was as if Richard Prior had been granted sporting brilliance. Dominating a multi-discipline event so effortlessly should never be understated.

In contrast, Sebastian Coe was bursting with focussed determination. In a replica of 1980, he bounced back from defeat in his favoured 800m event to take gold in the 1500m, with a devastating kick from 200m out leaving Steve Cram trailing a distant second. It was incredibly Coe’s seventh race in nine days, but even as a child I could see he had that steely look in his eyes that he was not going to be beaten. He was a born winner, and Coe was my first sporting idol. In the field behind my house I would cast a lonely shadow running either two laps or three and three quarters laps, and always saving some energy back for a sprint finish, with an arms-wide dip at the finishing line (the bin).

Whilst my running spikes later unsuccessfully graced the track with Dartford Harriers, football was the real passion that was to dominate my childhood. For years upon years, not a day would go by where I failed to kick a ball in some form. But it was the Mexico World Cup in the summer of 1986 that really inflamed my passion for football. It was my first memories of seeing how the beautiful game could be played in such a beautiful way.

I was ten-years old at the time, and emerging as a neat and tidy right-midfielder with a decent engine and good turn of pace. Even at that age we were being coached and encouraged in traditional British traits of remaining in position, closing space, finding a man, and if unsure, going long. I was already well versed with the term ‘channel ball’. The Mexico World Cup showed kids my age another way of football.

It is hard for the younger generations of today to appreciate a time where televised football coverage was so limited. A weekly live domestic game had only really emerged in 1983. Playgrounds were full of kids seeking to be Kenny Daglish, Bryan Robson, Ian Rush and Gary Lineker, but coverage of overseas football was restricted purely to when an English team played in a European game. English football was fairly uniform, its traits centred on organisation and hard-work, played at a fast tempo and with honesty. The Mexico World Cup introduced to our generation so many new aspects of football to our understanding; differing formations and cadence, but mostly individuality, skill and flair.

There is always something magical surrounding a World Cup, but even looking back now, 1986 seemed to have that bit extra. The heat provided the exotic backdrop, while the Mexican Wave lent it the carnival feel. My recognition of football atmosphere up to that point had been blokes shouting at goal kicks ‘wooooooooah, you’re sh*t AAAAAAAHHH’, but here was a plethora of drums and maracas, with exotic, barely-clothed beautiful women rolling their tanned hips to a samba beat for 90 minutes. It was a different world, and even Pique the Mascot didn’t appear to be an embarrassment, despite being a moustachioed jalapeno pepper.

In the Brampton Primary School playground, packs upon packs of Panini football stickers were being acquired and swapped to familiarise ourselves with the names we were about to encounter for the first time. The joy of acquiring a much-desired Algerian badge was tempered with the disappointment of being unable to swap any of your six spares of Oleg Blokhin.

Continued below....
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Comments

  • edited June 2014
    As kids, you are attracted to the over-riding beauty of the actual game without being dogged by the prejudices and nationalist pride that you encounter as you get older. We were too young to understand the problems with Argentina and the Falklands, nor did we fully grasp the travesty of the deciding factor of England’s campaign, or lead it to provoke blinkered hatred or sense of ill-doing. Of course I wanted England to do well, but it was never the sole, over-riding factor.

    To us, it was purely about that football, and to me Diego Maradona was a football genius. Whilst his lack of height and overweight appearance were aspects I’d greatly align to as I aged, he possessed supreme balance, poise and a magic wand of a left foot that never once seemed to miss-control a ball or fail to deliver. He appeared slow, yet went passed players as if they were statues. Every time he got the ball you sensed something would happen.

    mexico_2346585b.jpg

    Though they went on to win the tournament, it wasn’t just about Maradona and Argentina. A VHS video I was bought at the same time profiling the history of football in Brazil had me fixated with them as a football nation. From the original golden era of Pele, Didi, Zizinho and Garrincha in the 50s and 60s, through to Jairzinho, Carlos Alberto, Zico and Rivelino in the 70s, the whole ethos of their football culture, coupled with the striking yellow and green colours had me captivated. They exuded flair and total football.

    brazil-1986.jpg

    In 1986, Brazil were largely carrying the remnants of the 1982 squad, with Zico, Socrates, Junior, Oscar, Edinho and Falcao the key names, while emerging talent included Careca and Josimar. An epic quarter-final with Platini’s France saw the Brazilians exit following a penalty shoot-out, with talisman Zico missing a normal-time spot kick to put them through. I remember being as upset at Brazil’s elimination as I was of England.

    Gary Lineker emerged as the hero of the England team, securing the Golden Boot with his six goals. But no one wanted to be a poacher-like Gary Lineker in the field behind Blackthorn Grove. We had all been seduced, our heads had been turned by foreign flair and enigmatic names. Kids who could barely trap the ball were attempting to hurtle down the wing and shoot from 40-yards a la Josimar, while wannabee Michael ‘the boy’s a genius’ Laudrup’s would try and beat the same man for the 4th time. Around the field there were imitation Socrates, Paulo Rossi’s, Enzo Scifo’s and Butragueno’s. Backs were nearly broken attempting a Hugo Sanchez overhead kick. Toe-pokes were being replaced by fancy step-overs and intricate flicks. Even the limited kids wanted to be a Burruchaga or a Nico Claesen. No one wanted to be Steve Hodge.

    Computer games were just starting to creep in and become more widespread. My Atari games console had just been upgraded that May for a flashy new Commodore 64, with its games cassettes that would make ear-splitting screeching whilst downloading. But very few kids that summer was interested in playing Football Manager, Daley Thompson’s Decathlon, Barry McGuigan World Championship Boxing or Graham Gooch’s Test Cricket. The boys of Blackthorn Grove wanted to play football, marathon-style.

    Games would form as small as 2 v 2, to as large as 15 v 15, if lads from the neighbouring roads emerged. The goals would be two trees at one end of the field, and two jumpers at the other end. You wanted to be attacking the end with the trees because when you were attacking, your goalie at the other end could slyly narrow the jumpers making it a small target. They would last up to eight hours, would only be broken by the arrival of the ice-cream van for a Jubbly, Calippo or a cherry brandy lolly, and would only be ended by irate mums’ finally calling a halt as a long-overcooked dinner was ominously about to be thrown into the bin as the night was drawing in.

    Modern day fears of drugs, gangs, knife-crime etc did not exist, the only real danger was launching a slide tackle into a freshly-dropped dog mess. Even after dinner we would return to the street to use drive entrances as goalmouths into the fading light. Catch up with your programmes on Sky Plus ? Do me a favour….

    For a few glorious months of 1986, the football landscape for me and my peers had been changed, and it was a while before we reverted back to being a Dalglish, a Robson or a Rush.

    Football as a game has lost me over the last few years, and Charlton’s painful descent down the leagues has not been the main reason for it. The money at the top level, the dominance of such a few creating the lack of an even playing field for everyone else, the saturation of TV coverage, the desperation of medium-sized clubs simply to remain in the Premiership, the rise in gamesmanship and the negative tactical intricacies in attempting to gain an edge. I see negatives before I see any of the remaining positives.

    Due to widespread television coverage, very few youngsters will be watching this summer spellbound in awe at seeing a Messi or a Ronaldo for the first time, because they have got used to seeing it on a weekly basis. But I desperately hope for their sake it stirs something in them to put down their PSP, turn off their Playstation for a few weeks, and get round that field attempting to be a Rooney, a Kaka or a Torres, and learn to appreciate good football whatever the nation it is performing it.

    As for me, my days for running round the field using jumpers for goalposts are sadly gone. But I hope good, attacking fair play, couple with the uniqueness of the competition, could once again rouses my love for beautiful football. If the World Cup doesn’t do it, then sadly nothing will.

    Now where’s that ice cream van…

    icecreamvan.jpg
  • edited May 2010
    1986 was during my o-levels and my pathetic 3 qualifications have been put down to it clashing with the mexico world cup ........
    as a 10 year old you should have been in bed afka i'm sure some of the games finished in the early hours of the next day ....
    i remember igor belanov pretty sure he scored a ream hatrick for russia in a 4-3 game v belgium and preben elkjaer was part of the silky danish side
    very good world cup 1986 "Lineker coming in on it noooooooow, never mind the sunshine it's raining goals here in mexico"
    my first was 1978 and i cheered on the jocks (oh the innocence of youth)
  • [cite]Posted By: oohaahmortimer[/cite]as a 10 year old you should have been in bed afka i'm sure some of the games finished in the early hours of the next day ....

    I thought of that when i was writing it, but i distinctly remember watching a lot of the games so i reckon some of them were taped and watched the next day.
  • [cite]Posted By: AFKABartram[/cite]
    [cite]Posted By: oohaahmortimer[/cite]as a 10 year old you should have been in bed afka i'm sure some of the games finished in the early hours of the next day ....

    I thought of that when i was writing it, but i distinctly remember watching a lot of the games so i reckon some of them were taped and watched the next day.


    taped you rich little sod
  • 86 was the first I remeber was 6, don't remeber to many games but had the biggest glossiest wall chart ever, the mascot was a little green fella wearing a sombreo (original!!) Italia 90 was first I actually got stuck in to, 10 year old kid trying to recreate platts volley v belguim in charlton park and pat bonner's penailty saves. 94 watched every game as had a tv in my room by then remeber georghi hagi?? Scoring an amazing goal from near the touchline. Am really looking forward to this one, and to the next as my little boy will be 5ish by 2014 and can get the wall charts and fill them in and kick about in the garden. I love football.
  • An excellent read.

    1966 was the first World Cup I really remember. I was interested in football in 1962, when the World Cup was held in Chile, but cannot recall seeing anything on the telly.

    I suspect that there cannot have been much coverage as I followed the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo avidly and would certainly have watched it had it been shown. The one thing I did right in my life was catch chicken pox during the Tokyo Olympics and pass it on to my beloved late father! Lyn Davies, Mary Rand and Ann Packer all won athletics gold for GB, not forgetting Ken Matthews in the 50km walk. Bob Hayes of the USA was simply awesome as a sprinter. He had a strange arm action, swinging his arms across his chest! Happy days! I remember it like yesterday.

    Back to the 1966 World Cup which I followed as obsessively as I could get away with! The Argentinian group game, which we won 1-0, comes to mind as Rattin, their captain got sent off and refused to go! It seemed to take ages to get him off the pitch and restart the match. He deserved to go and the dirty play of that Argentinian side trailblazed their subsequent behaviour in my opinion. It sticks in the mind because, back then, sending offs (sendings off?) were rarities especially in international football. Once we successfully negotiated that Argentinian match I think the nation began to believe we really could do it!
  • Great article Dan, it really was a different world wasn't it?

    There's no way I'd let my eldest out round the park on his own, even though at his age I was out with my mates playing 40-40 or knock down ginger. Even though I know that I was in as "much danger" from sicko perverts at his age.

    I first fell in love with the world game in 1978. I remember watching the final from Buenos Aires on an old Black and White in a dingy cottage in North Devon. Can't imagine my kids sitting down quietly, watching spellbound as I did.
  • Into my heart an air that kills
    From yon far country blows:
    What are those blue remembered hills,
    What spires, what farms are those?

    That is the land of lost content,
    I see it shining plain,
    The happy highways where I went
    And cannot come again.

    1970 for me. Thought it was heat haze that made the pictures so fuzzy rather than poor TV satellite coverage.

    Still not sure how we lost when we were 2 - 0 up in the quarter-final v West Germany.
  • Ah, the field at the back of Blackthorn Grove, is it still there or have they built on it yet? That brings back some memories...the old footy games there were as legendary as the games played on the field in Westbrook Road, which is now the grounds of Fosters School. Ah proper childhood memories...no worries, no stress, no responsibilites, just playing football til dusk and asking Mum what was for tea.
  • You're articles just get better every time Smudge.

    This one is my favourite so far because I feel the same as you about the World Cup. I never had a place where we'd all go to play football near where I lived but at school we'd be playing every day in summer.

    The 1986 World Cup coupled with Charlton promotion to Division One really cemented my love of the game.

    I also remember with fondness some of the other things you mention: Commodore 64, ice cream vans, panini stickers
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  • [cite]Posted By: BDL[/cite] I remember watching the final from Buenos Aires on an old Black and White in a dingy cottage in North Devon. Can't imagine my kids sitting down quietly, watching spellbound as I did.

    But why is this?

    If you went to a dingy cottage in Devon and removed all modern technology (except a normal TV), don't you think that they'd be interested in watching the World Cup Final?
  • I always maintain that had my 'O' levels not been in a world cup year (1986), I would have done much much better!

    My first memory of world cups was 1978 - the archie gemmill winner against argentina, cheering on those plucky losers scotland was all we had!!!

    other world cup highlights/lowlights -
    1982 - dont remember that much about it, apart from england not progressing to the semi finals despite being unbeaten, robson scoring after 27 seconds in the first game and the 'fixed' match germany v austria.
    1986 - a great world cup, shame about the hand of god goal.
    1990 - spent watching (all) england's games in the pub, and through the beer, remember waddle's penalty flying towards the moon!
    1994 - although we didn't qualify, for some reason I looked forward to the tournament just 'cos its the world cup.
    1998 - watched the matches at the pub/indoors, with as much drink involved at both places! more penalty heartbreak!
    2002 - this one didn't grip me - because of the time zones which meant that all the games were finished by around lunchtime, it ate into work hours too much and it just all felt a bit flat for me.
    2006 - the england striker situation was a joke. 4 strikers, one of whom was a 17 year old (walcott) who'd never even kicked a ball in the top flight. we certainly paid for that ridiculous selection when owen got injured and rooney was sent off. Still, perhaps we should have told Eriksson after the world cup that he was being sacked.....
  • Great article as always , AFKA .

    Seb Coe was always my favourite & I went wild when he won his gold in LA. The Americans idolised Daley though - thought he was the supreme athelete which of course he was. Can see even now his backwards somersault in the pole vault pit after a nail biting final attempt.

    TBH, I can take or leave the World Cup although I shall watch the England matches of course. Give me Club football every time.
  • I really fell in love with football in 1967. Somehow I missed the euphoria of 66, don't know why. The build up and expectation for me at World Cup 70 also held in Mexico ironically, was immense in my household. Not for me a computer (what were they?) or even a glossy football chart, but a huge home made poster with grids laid out so that I could pen in the teams and results as the tournament progressed. Couple that with the Esso world cup coins collection and my personal scenario was complete. The highlight for me had to be that save. Those images and the feelings of elation and despair as we somehow went from a 2-0 cruise in the park to a 2-3 loss epitomised what my football life was to become, albeit it on a much smaller stage. Thanks for the memories and the echoes of "Back Home"
  • Great Stuff Dan,

    Do you know what, my boy (14) has NEVER been round the park to play football with his mates, not laziness but when we played for teams at his age, it was an hour training on a Saturday, a games on Sunday Morning (both followed by Charlton Park until dark with a bottle of Coca Pina, portion of chips from the Chinese Chippy, and playing the French exchange students at the back of Charlton House).

    He has/had training twice a week since he was 7 (sometimes 3 times), Charlton on a Saturday, Matches everybloodywhere from Bromley to Dover on a Sunday, Chuck Karate for 3 years in there as well, he has never had the time. If he does get free time, he just 'chills' with his mates who have all had the same week.

    I know we can blame pervets for not letting kids out but they were about then as well, my fear for him (and has been proved right) is/was getting mugged and stabbed. Kids had nothing to mug back then other than a Mitre Delta, but there was always so many playing football together it just wouldnt happen.

    I was 10 as well for Mexico and remember aside from England games (watched the Poland game on my own, which I remember being late as me mum and dad were working in the Duchess of Edingburgh), the 6-1 game between Denmark and Uruguay, they were awesome Denmark and looked like they could score everytime they got the ball. I do remember however having no interest of the Final for whatever reason although I have watched it since.

    1990 was my best memory and they were really great times with really great people, Terry Nayor on CL was a big part of that, the night at his house for the Semi was brilliant, BMWs in the Dockyard never stood a chance :-)

    I think this could be the first time my boy really appreciates a World cup, it will be a release ( and I know how he feels from back in 86) from the crap he gets from his mates about CAFC. He, since he started going in 98 has really only ever had it good being a CAFC fan, but the last three years has been a learning curve, he always knew however crap England were in Major Tournaments he would be going dow the Valley in a couple of months to watch CAFC v Chelsea, Arsenal, Liverpool, Man Utd.

    He will now get a chance of supporting a Team that has the ability to win something major, I'm sure he will be captivated this time and be able to forget for a month what has happened to his club, unless of course we get knocked out early and he can look forward to Dagenham at Home for an extra two weeks.
  • We walked through Oxleas Woods on Tuesday early evening and there were a group of about 10 kids playing football on the grass section down the bottom of the cafe... they had used their little bmxes as goalposts! Times have moved on!
  • You were a runner?!
  • edited May 2010
    Great stuff AFKA,
    I think i played footie every day of my life between the ages of 11-17 with mates over the fields in Eltham...sadly i was crap but i still enjoyed every moment..as for the world cup i have little memory of the 74 world cup other than it seemed to chuck it down every game but i do remember the tickertape in Argentina in 78 and trying to recreate long range goals scored by Arie Haan over the park.

    I'm sure 1965jr will be watching most of the games or at least getting them sky+'d as he loves his footie now...although he's getting merciless stick at school about supporting Charlton as other like minded souls are a bit thin on the ground in Merthyr Tydfil but he's told the plastic Man U/Chelsea/Arsenal/Liverpool fans at least he goes to some games and doesn't watch them from the sofa at home.
  • Found my 1986 wall chart a couple of months ago - brought back memories of so many great games. It was my A levels but I watched all the late games as you do. Denmark were brilliant - they destroyed Uruguay and then it all went wrong Frank Arnesen suspended? with Jesper Olsens? dodgy crossfield ball and they lost to Spain. USSR also a great great team who went out in the last 16. Ray Wilkins getting sent off/suspended turned things around for England and we should have gone further. I remember snipets of '74 as my first one.
  • [cite]Posted By: jimmymelrose[/cite]
    [cite]Posted By: BDL[/cite]I remember watching the final from Buenos Aires on an old Black and White in a dingy cottage in North Devon. Can't imagine my kids sitting down quietly, watching spellbound as I did.

    But why is this?

    If you went to a dingy cottage in Devon and removed all modern technology (except a normal TV), don't you think that they'd be interested in watching the World Cup Final?

    Knowing my two, they'd stil be moaning like hell about not having access to a Gameboy/PSP/Xbox etc.

    .
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  • great article. Interesting to hear you were at dartford harriers, you were probably there about the same time as me I suspect, we may even have trained in the same group.

    I never really played organised football at all. Just kickabouts with mates. remember that a local park used to have two small wooden goals in it but they were never used as they were way too small. But it also had two sets of swings set nicely opposite each other about 40 yards apart. Ideal for a pitch. The only problem being the younger kids always wanted to use them so as long as we let them join in with the big kids they were happy.

    we would pick teams, kids lined up youngest to oldest and alternate picks along the line to keep it even. Then play 20 mins each way then start again. would last all day with people coming and going all the time. teams sizes getting gradually smaller as the evening drew in and the younger kids went home. Then hiding in the bushes as the parky shut up shop for the night. Then back on with the game till it was too dark to play.

    Had a flashback to my youth recently as a bunch of us at work have begun playing in the park after work, with plenty of players in the area ready to bulk up the numbers, it is great fun.
  • Good article AFKA.

    My first world cup memory was '66. Lived on Cherry Orchard Estate in Charlton at the time and remember looking outside our flat at half-time and seeing absolutely nobody ... very rare in such a big council estate. After the game, met all my mates in the middle of the estate for a kick-around.
  • [cite]Posted By: stonemuse[/cite]met all my mates in the middle of the estate for a kick-around.

    Was the concrete 5 a side pitch there back then stonemuse?
    It was there in '76 when I lived in Cedar court and it's still there now I think!
  • [cite]Posted By: creepyaddick[/cite]
    [cite]Posted By: stonemuse[/cite]met all my mates in the middle of the estate for a kick-around.

    Was the concrete 5 a side pitch there back then stonemuse?
    It was there in '76 when I lived in Cedar court and it's still there now I think!

    That's the one mate, yes
  • Lovely article and thread.
    My first memories were of the 66 finals; little North Korea going 3nil up against mighty Portugal and Eusebio dragging Portugal back almost single handedly to run out 5-3 winners.
    When we went out to play some neighberhood kids on the green afterwards, we decided to be Portugal, although bizarrely they had a ludicrously tall kid callled Torres in their team. (at least thats what they called him)
    I remember everybody eagerly looking forward to seeing Pele and the great Brazilians, only to witness them cynically kicked and rough-housed out of the tournament.
    I remember being quite shocked at Argentina and the Rattin incident.
    And of course England won and everything was right with the world.
    The Kinks had just knocked the Beatles off the number one spot with "Sunny Afternoon"
    Like a lot of others on here, used to play football from morning till night.
    On Abbey (Wood) Estate there were loads of "greens" and depending who lived nearest they would be Steve's green or Tel's green.
    It was a great place to grow up in the 50's and 60's being bordered to thre north by the sewer bank behind which was the "adventure playground" of the Arsenal and to the east the fields and farmland to the Belvedere gas holders.
    No Thamesmead in them days.
    Happy days.
    When we weren't playing football or cricket we were on some adventure or pond dipping or out on our bikes and if we got bored we could always piss on an ants nest or stick lollysticks into dog poo.

    Still got my world cup willie badge and handkerchief stashed in the loft.
  • That's a truly great article Dan :-)
    1966 for me. Hard to convey that sense of excitement, football on the telly used to be an EVENT that you looked forward to, and got nervous about. Now football on the telly is everywhere to it's detriment, a soap opera, Eastenders with a ball.
    I am looking forward to the World cup but sadly not because England are in it this time. The thought of Terry, Cole etc leaves me cold. I used to love watching England play, I can remember that anxious feeling as we took to the pitch, and the elation when we won and the awful feeling when we lost.
    Maybe I will get to feel like that this time round too, and I hope I do, but certainly don't feel it at the moment.
  • 1978 for me bet my grandad £1 holland would beat argentina.I was gutted 3 days later a envelope arrives with a £1 in it.Will alaways remeber Archie Gemmills goal and arrie ahns from nigh on the half way line.
  • Lovely piece Dan.

    For me 1974 was the catalyst for my love of football. The Dutch, total football and my idol Johan Cryuff. I then spent the next year banging onto my Dad about taking me to a football match. He was a lapsed Addick so it was only going to be to one place.

    The 1978 World Cup I remember far more vividly. Argentina was an ocean of noise and colour and after watching 3 years of Charlton, those 4 weeks were like watching a game from a different planet.
  • [cite]Posted By: jimmymelrose[/cite]I never had a place where we'd all go to play football near where I lived

    what ?? I remember coming home from school everyday, getting on my bike, rounding up the usual suspects and off to the residents association in Baldwyn's Park for a game of footie. Always about ten of us, ocassionally less, but it was great. Maybe you were too young I suppose. Debbie Bampton, went on to be England ladies captain, came sometimes and ran rings round us. Happy dayz.

    I love watching the World Cup for the spectacle but can't get excited about England and whether they went out in the first round or won it wouldn't affect me one iota. Now, Charlton dropping a point to whoever, different story entirely.
  • 1990 - Bejams wall chart and falling in love with the game. Also got sent to bed at half time.
    1994 - No England so naturally I supported Saudi Arabia. Was too young to appreciate the defensive brilliance of Franco Baresi and Paolo Maldini so didn't watch all of the final.
    1998 - Was great to be back in the tournament, expected Brazil to walk it and Roberto Carlos to bend it a 40 yard free kick.
    2002 - First world cup that I was legally old enough to drink. Would get to the pub at 7am during my A-Level study leave, did poorly in the exams.
    2006 - Was in Australia and they had qualified for the first time since 1974 which added a lot to it. Was angry that Bent didn't get a call up. Opinion of Zidane increased ten fold.
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