GOM World Cup Diary #25 – Whatever Happened To Knowing When You’ve Won?

I watched France edge past Paraguay last night and, for long periods, I wasn’t entirely sure whether I was watching a football match or an audition for a martial arts film.

Paraguay’s approach seemed to be based on the theory that if you can’t get the ball, you might as well get the player. The referee appeared to be treating most of it as perfectly acceptable until VAR politely interrupted to point out that, yes, pulling someone over in the penalty area really is a foul. Kylian Mbappé converted the penalty and France squeezed through by the only goal of the game.

Job done.

Or so they thought.

No sooner had the celebrations begun than along came Morocco, who had quietly dismantled joint hosts Canada 3-0 to book a place in the quarter-finals. Suddenly France’s reward for surviving one difficult evening was the prospect of another.

It made me think how much of life is like that.

We spend weeks looking forward to something. Passing an exam. Finishing a big project. Paying off a loan. Finally clearing out the garage. We imagine that magical moment when we can put our feet up and enjoy the satisfaction of having achieved it.

Then life taps us on the shoulder and says, “Excellent. Here’s the next problem.”

The garage is tidy, but now the shed’s falling down.

The holiday’s booked, but the passport’s expired.

You’ve finally reached Friday, only to remember you’ve promised to decorate the spare bedroom all weekend.

Football does exactly the same.

France finally got over the line, only to discover that Morocco are waiting around the next corner looking rather more confident than anyone expected.

Sometimes I wonder whether we’ve forgotten to enjoy our victories before rushing off to worry about the next challenge. We seem to spend so much time looking over the horizon that we barely notice we’ve reached the top of the hill.

Mind you, I’m probably no different. I’ll spend tonight telling England not to think about Brazil, then catch myself wondering who we’d rather play in the quarter-finals before they’ve even kicked off against Mexico.

Perhaps that’s why football is such a good reflection of life.

There’s always another match.

Anyway, what do I know?

I’m just a grumpy old man.