Rustenberg, Cape Town, Port Elizabeth... Just three days, now.
I don't know why, but football has this capacity to enthrall me - probably because of the infinite variety and the speed of the game. It's over thirty years since I saw my first World Cup Finals, in Argentina (which England hadn't qualified for (Scotland did, but why they bothered making the trip, nobody knows to this day)), and I'm still able to feel that sense of expectation. Assuming we (LOL - because I'll be playing, obviously!), win Group C, we're due to meet France at the Quarter Final Stage, Brazil in the Semis and Spain in the Final.
Hmmm. Still, hope springs eternal, and even with Rio injured, we've got the players to achieve something. In fact, this squad is possibly the best we've had since, well, Germany four years ago, except this time we've got Capello at the helm.
I have my inflatable "We Believe" TV chair, with a pattern on it like a football. I have a couple of boxes of Stella standing by to do service for Queen and country (OK, so Stella's Belgian, but WTF, eh?). And I have a quite implausible degree of optimism. What could possibly go wrong?
Bring on the Yanks!