GOM World Cup Diary #39 Third Place? Who Cares?

Whatever Happened To Being Pointless?

Well…

That’s told me.

After spending yesterday wondering why on earth the World Cup still bothers with a Third Place Play-off, England and France decided to produce the most entertaining match of the entire tournament.

I hate it when football does that.

There I was, happily explaining why both teams would rather have been on the first flight home, only for them to serve up a ten-goal thriller that had more twists than a mountain road.

Perhaps the Football Gods read yesterday’s diary.

If they did, they clearly decided I needed reminding who was really in charge.

England couldn’t buy a goal in the semi-final.

Last night they couldn’t stop scoring.

Four-nil at half-time.

I had to check I hadn’t accidentally switched over to one of those old England highlights DVDs from 1966.

Where had this team been hiding?

The same players who looked so cautious against Argentina suddenly played with freedom, confidence and a willingness to attack every time they crossed the halfway line.

It was almost as though somebody had quietly reminded them that football is actually supposed to be fun.

Of course, being England supporters, we should have known it wouldn’t stay comfortable for long.

France came roaring back.

Four-one.

Four-two.

Four-three.

You could almost hear blood pressures rising in living rooms across the country.

Then England remembered where the opposition’s goal was again.

Six-four.

Game over.

Or at least as “game over” as a ten-goal World Cup match ever feels.

It made me wonder if that’s exactly why football continues to captivate us.

The moment we become absolutely convinced we understand it, it politely taps us on the shoulder and says…

“You were saying?”

Perhaps that’s why predictions are such dangerous things.

Yesterday I questioned whether the Third Place Play-off served any real purpose.

Today I’m wondering if I should have kept my mouth shut.

Don’t misunderstand me.

I still don’t think many youngsters grow up dreaming of winning a bronze medal at the World Cup.

Every player wanted to be in Sunday’s Final.

But if you’re going to play one last game before heading home, you might as well give the supporters something to remember.

England and France certainly managed that.

Maybe the match wasn’t really about deciding who finished third.

Maybe it was about allowing two disappointed teams to remember why they fell in love with football in the first place.

Sometimes, when there’s nothing left to lose, you finally remember how to play.

That’s not a bad lesson for life either.

So yes…

England go home with bronze medals around their necks.

More importantly, they leave with smiles on their faces after producing one last performance full of courage, freedom and entertainment.

As for me…

I still think the Third Place Play-off is a slightly odd idea.

I might just grumble a little more quietly about it next time.

Anyway, what do I know?

I’m just a grumpy old man.

Stick your thoughts below. I’ll read them when I’ve finished being annoyed.