I really hope that the England footballers appreciate the enormous efforts that teachers and their associates inKuala Lumpur have gone to watch them play against Italy today. My alarm went off at 0500, thirty minutes earlier than a school day. After a reviving throw of water over my face I drove off to meet various other determined colleagues at The Bulldog Pub near school. I was seeking the atmosphere and camaraderie that can only come from the sharing of memorable victories or disasters.
By kick off, at 0600, the place was packed, although there were notably many more glasses of Pepsi, cranberry juice and mugs of tea being quaffed than pints of cold lager. The house speciality of English Breakfast including real bacon and real sausages was selling like, er hot cakes.
I suppose the least said about the football the better really. I had confidently predicted an England victory, demonstrating, yet again, my expertise at football punditry. Although I began to believe the rubbish that I spout about the beautiful game when Mr Sterling almost scored a goal I the first few minutes.
Alright so Italy won the match the concerted effort at trying not to hype up the boys in white all appeared reasonable, and no player did anything silly. The real victors though were beards. Long derided as stone-aged throwbacks many of the players appeared to have embraced the hairy visage as this tournament's must have look with even Captain Gerrard trying his best to look rugged. Champion Beard has to go to Mr Pirlo, who emerged into the arena for the second half with a freshly groomed beard and hairdo to match before succeeding in showing how it is possible to remain cool and hairy under the dual pressures of millions of viewers and tropical heat. At one point towards the end of the game when England missed a decent chance the cameras cut to Mr Hodgson who was shown head and chin in hands. Was he bemoaning the lack of goals or facial hair, I wonder. Anyway bad luck fellers. I will do my best to study your beards when you next play.
It did feel very strange emerging from the boozer into bright sunlight, stone warm sober, with the whole day ahead, rubbing my appropriately unshaven face and hungry for a bowl of porridge. Life is all about new experiences, they say.