Please let the World Cup be a good'un

For a Scotland supporter the requirements for a World Cup are pretty simple nowadays – a good tournament with great games and moments.

Now I’m probably already sounding like a grumpy old man, but for me the World Cup has been in decline for a while now. The anticipation has been far better than the actual event.

There are of course many things in life that change as you get older and your perception of things is a large part of that.

My first dim memories of the World Cup were in 1978 where, as a five-year-old, I recalled my father and one of his friends in some kind of paralysis of belief as Scotland were beaten by Peru. I can still recall the white strips with the red diagonal stripe on the TV.

I then had my most basic introduction to supporting Scotland – the concept of glorious defeat – as everyone went barmy when Archie Gemmill scored one of the great World Cup goals to defeat the Dutch 3-2. It of course meant nothing and we went out.

1982 was the best World Cup of my lifetime but again, but maybe that has something to do with being a nine-year-old – everything was magnified to such a huge degree.

In those days, unless you went along to matches – I was lucky enough to get taken to watch Alex Ferguson’s Aberdeen team – you basically got two 30-minute sections of football highlights every weekend on TV and the occasional 30 minutes on a Wednesday night.

The vast majority of my TV football was Scottish with a few snippets from England’s first division and very infrequent European games. So when 1982 came along and Scotland were drawn to play Brazil, you can imagine what the names Socrates, Falcao, Zico, Eder, and Junior meant to a young football-daft boy.

Scotland did their usual – got stuffed by Brazil, beat New Zealand and then bowed out with a credible draw with the USSR.

We cared not, Espana ’82 looked wonderfully glamorous and there were still the Brazilians, Italians, the French and Argentinians, who had some chap called Maradona who looked a bit handy. West Germany weren’t half bad either and Poland even had Zbigniew Boniek.

The tournament threw up some fantastic games, the 3-2 Italy versus Brazil remains the greatest match I have ever seen and the semi final between France and Germany was simply epic, ending in French tears after being on the wrong end of both penalties and Harold Schumacher’s assault on Patrick Battiston.

Marco Tardelli’s celebration in the final after scoring will remain in the memories of all who saw it. A truly timeless World Cup moment that you can play over and over.

On to 1986 and back on a more parochial note – more Scottish failure. Beaten by West Germany – Gordon Strachan couldn’t even hurdle an advertising hoarding – and Denmark before drawing with Uruguay to send us on the first plane home yet again.

But Mexico was of course another fine tournament which belonged to Diego Maradona, who scored two of the greatest goals ever in the World Cup – both against England – and a decent effort against Belgium in the round that followed.

The quarter final between Brazil and France was another fine match ultimately decided on penalties, but the tournament was ruled and won by Maradona. He came the closest to turning a team sport into an individual one other than Sir Don Bradman – who had a far better support cast.

1990 was a pivotal year as at the age of 17 I left home, school and Scotland and started working in London.

That summer was a slightly odd one in that respect and may be the reason I have such vivid memories, or maybe it’s the fact that Scotland reached new lows by losing to Costa Rica – both left imprints on the character.

Anyone watching in Scotland will remember the TV presenter’s expression as he turned to the pundits after we returned from the adverts post mach, it was priceless. Of course we then beat Sweden and then lost out to Brazil (yet again) and went home (yet again).

For me, other than the classic BBC intro sequence featuring Nessun Dorma, Italia 1990 was far from a classic tournament. There was of course high drama with Gazza’s tears and England’s defeat on penalties to Germany in the semi final.

There were also moments of pure inspiration from Roberto Baggio and Toto Schillaci illuminated the tournament with both bulging nets and eyes. Dragan Stojkovic enjoyed a wonderful cameo against Spain while Maradona tried to drag a less than great Argentina to another unlikely triumph. A poor final finished off a fairly mediocre tournament – at least for me.

Germany, led by Lothar Matthaus, were worthy winners but they weren’t a team that inspired me despite having many great players.

1994 saw me start off in very grumpy form. First of all, for the first time in 16 years, Scotland had failed to qualify and now as a fully fledged adult with a responsible job, the kick off times in the United States were highly inconvenient, indeed downright inconsiderate.

Scotland were not the only footballing powerhouse not to be represented as both England and France also missed out. It was however, a marvellous tournament and was the story of some great mavericks starting with the greatest of them all yet again, Diego Maradona.

Enjoying a wonderful renaissance, Maradona seemed reborn and performed a goal celebration against the Greeks that would scare most young children. Unfortunately it emerged that Diego was enjoying himself a little too much off the pitch and he was banned for drug use. He would sadly never grace another World Cup match.

On a more positive note, four other great individual performances lit up the tournament, those of Roberto Baggio, Hristo Stoichkov, Gheorghe Hagi and Romario. Baggio took Italy nearly all the way with a series of excellent performances and five goals after the shock of losing to Ireland in their opening game and scraping through their group.

Stoichkov inspired Bulgaria through a wonderful tournament seeing off Germany in the process and Hagi marshalled a hugely attractive Romania team that played some glittering football. Their second round match against Argentina was a true World Cup epic.

Romario however, stole the show with a wonderful goal scoring display as Brazil won the trophy for the first time in 24 years. It wasn’t a vintage Brazil team but it had been a great tournament.

The final itself was dreadful as Italy and Brazil cancelled each other out. But as ever with World Cups they never fail to provide drama and one felt terribly for the great Franco Baresi and Baggio, who both missed in the shoot out. One felt they both deserved better.

Brazil were worthy winners however, even if we’ve had to sit through Bebeto’s baby rocking celebration for the ensuing twenty years after the tournament. It was great the first time lads.

France ’98 was the last World Cup I can say I really enjoyed in a footballing sense. It had a wonderful French team which grew as the tournament went on. A rampant Brazil spearheaded by Ronaldo through the early rounds as well as strong challenges from fine Dutch and Argentina teams.

It was also the first World Cup I attended in person and I was there for the opening match as Scotland lost (yet again) to Brazil. We cared not and had a wonderful day and many beers in the Paris sunshine, life was certainly good that day. We also drew with Norway before losing heavily to Morocco in what would prove to be our last match in a major final to date. We were on the first plane home, but at least this time we could take the train.

There were other great stories at ’98 such as the supremely talented Croatia team of Davor Suker, Robert Prosinecki and Zvonimir Boban. Jamaica provided some light relief also in the early stages. Argentina were on the receiving end of a World Cup wonder goal from Michael Owen before finally beating England on penalties in a yet another English night of high drama, with David Beckham being sent off.

Dennis Bergkamp then bettered Michael Owen’s effort in the next round against Argentina again with a goal of sheer artistry assisted by a wonderful Frank De Boer pass, it was classic stuff. They would eventually be unlucky to go out to Brazil.

France of course provided the perfect end in Paris as they swept to a 3-0 win in what was a hugely compelling yet ultimately anti-climax of a final. The circumstances that led to Ronaldo sleep walking through the final are still not known but the game provided Zinedine Zidane with his coronation.

From there, the World Cup has gone downhill for me. I had moved to Asia by the time Japan and Korea 2002 came around so I was perfectly placed time wise to watch the matches – the stars should have been aligned.

It was fantastic to see the joy that a World Cup brought to countries and to a continent outside of Europe or South America for the first time. The only problem was that many of the big teams and players appeared as if they had stayed on their own continents.

South Korea provided a huge story as they rode their luck to make the semi finals. Senegal also provided huge romance by beating France in the opening match and making the quarter finals before being knocked out by the other big story, that of Turkey who also made the semis.

But here was the rub, these great stories of giant slaying were not actually what I wanted to watch. I wanted to see Zidane, Luis Figo, Gabriel Batistuta, Francesco Totti and co at the peak of their powers. A tough European season appeared to have shorn the tournament of many of its leading lights.

Brazil did show up and won the tournament with an irresistible forward line of Ronaldinho, Rivaldo and Ronaldo. A hugely talented Michael Ballack had also arrived for Germany and they were the two best teams in a tournament.

2006 remains fuzzy for me for some reason, maybe too many beers watching late night games is the reason but again many of the big teams and players flattered to deceive and despite it being one of the most recent, it remains one of the most distant in my memory.

Argentina had one astounding performance against Serbia and Montenegro, Germany looked hopeful and bright but not much else, Brazil were lousy (by their standards), the Dutch were out early and Portugal left you somehow unfulfilled even with the burgeoning talents of Cristiano Ronaldo.

So it was left to France and the old war horse of Italy to provide the eventual drama. The scene was of course set for Zinedine Zidane to bow out from football on the highest of highs as the 34-year-old played his final game in another World Cup Final.

Marco Materazzi however had other plans for Zizou and the resulting headbutt from Zidane led to one of those live TV moments when you turn to the person next to you and ask ‘did that just actually happen?’

Zidane was duly sent off, Italy won the shootout and the rest, as they say, is history. Somehow however, that moment in some way didn’t seem to diminish Zidane’s legend and even made it greater.

And so to the last carnival of football and Africa’s first with South Africa 2010 – complete with vuvuzelas, a novelty that soon wore off for many.

Italy provided the story of the opening round by being simply appalling and in the process allowing New Zealand to return home undefeated. The eventual champions Spain lost in their opening match to Switzerland before gaining momentum and winning every match apart from their next against Honduras by the odd goal, the last four matches being won 1-0.

If Spain were efficient, then in a complete about turn, Germany were wonderful to watch as they swept away England and Argentina before falling to the metronomic men in red. In a complete turn around, Holland, who are usually Europe’s answer to Brazil’s style of play, offered football of the most pragmatic nature.

Only the wonderfully talented Wesley Sneijder seemed to break the shackles as the Dutch made their way mundanely to the final, disposing of another sub par Brazilian team on the way.

The tournament was light on romance, with Lionel Messi failing to shine under the management of the dishevelled Maradona. While Uruguay were a great underdog tale, Luis Suarez’s handball against Ghana hardly endeared them to many neutrals.

It was a wonderful occasion for Africa and refreshing in that respect, but it was hardly a World Cup to remember otherwise.

Right now I am currently experiencing my usual state of growing agitation and excitement as we grow close to the tournament. I will even be in the European time zone for much of the group stages meaning my evenings will be wondrous.

My advancing years and the reality of the modern day media mean that the excitement cannot however, reach the fever pitch of previous tournaments.

We all get to see Messi and Ronaldo week-in week-out, rather than clamouring to catch a glimpse of Zico or Maradona in 1982. In that respect there are fewer surprises or shocks and I am no longer nine years old. There are however many sub plots.

Can Lionel Messi finally do for Argentina what he has done for Barcelona? Could Cristiano Ronaldo drag Portugal to an unlikely win? Could Spain win a remarkable fourth major tournament in a row? Could Wayne Rooney score a goal?

And of course there’s the hosts Brazil with Neymar and company. Brazil for many will always be the team we want to watch other than our own and there is no doubt that a home win would be a popular one.

Preparing for the World Cup has been hugely divisive for this footballing powerhouse of a country so a Luis Filipe Scolari galvanised triumph would be a hugely welcome one.

Scotland shall of course not be there and our prospects for future tournaments look bleak. So for me, all I want is for the great players to play to the peak of their powers, for some fantastic goals and matches and for not all the excitement and drama to come from penalty shootouts.

That for me would be a great World Cup.