Croatia has freed us from the rhetoric of bailado football

Still drunk from Croatia’s victory, which freed us from the rhetoric of football-played-having fun and the cloying dance of the pigeon, I repeat that England will win the World Cup, but tonight is very likely to lose against France. The frog eaters are stronger, and we have said too many times that we know how to stop Mbappé. On our side we have a coach who, despite his vacant gaze, knows what’s going on about him, has managed to manage the players, recognize his mistakes and instill calm in a national team that has always played with the ghosts of the past on its shoulders. The day he stops making them kneel for blacks before matches – with grotesque effects like in the match against Senegal, with the opponents, all blacks, standing – he will have reached perfection.

I begin to dent my stash of brandy to toast Ivana Knöll, a Croatian fan who made fans talk about herself in the stands of Qatar’s stadiums pussy. Ivana, who we will still keep for at least one game, had herself immortalized at the games with her two beautiful pints in full view, leaning in favor of the camera to show how well she looks with the red and white checkered flag on her buttocks . Ivana is not a bitch, as you sly Democrats are thinking, but a fighter for rights: “I’m not a Muslim – she said – and if we in Europe respect the hijab and the niqab, I also believe that our style of life and our religion. I dress like this and wear a bikini because I’m a Catholic who’s here for the World Cup.” CheersIvana, I hope Pope Francis puts you in charge of the department for Evangelization, and you see how we stop the secularization of the West.

Today is also the day of Morocco-Portugal, and if I were a commentator on Rai Sport I’d say it’s the challenge between the surprise of the World Cup and the possible outsider. But I’m not, then I prefer to try to bring bad luck to Argentina by remembering that the World Cup is not the place for fairy tales. The Guardian wrote it yesterday, in a rare article that did not mention trans rights and climate change: the trophy almost never went to those who wanted the rhetoric, history, coincidences and sentiment to end. In 1950 and 2014 Brazil was humiliated at home, in 2006 Zidane – who would have liked to leave football by winning – was expelled and defeated in the final, in 1994 Maradona on his return after his suspension was framed and disqualified again, in 1990 Italy lived a drama against Maradona’s Argentina. That’s why, reading all the bullshit about Messi like El Pibe and the victory that Pulce lacks to really be the greatest, I hope that the golden rule of romanticism choked up in the World Cup will also be confirmed in Qatar. If not, it will mean that I will flee to the Falklands to end my days in the pub with a pint and my blonde in my hands. I could not have perfectly predicted the results of the best quarter-finals of the last thirty years, but I read that a few days ago a man said he came from the future and that he had proof that the final would be Brazil-France, with the the green and gold victorious for 2-1. I don’t know what future it came from, I too would like to drink what he drinks, and at this point I can make a prediction, even if I don’t come from the future: however things turn out tonight, I’ll be drunk at the end of the game.