GOM World Cup Diary #37 Third Place… First Loser?

Whatever Happened To Knowing When It’s Over?

I’ve never really understood the Third Place Play-off.

Perhaps it’s just me.

After all, I’m a grumpy old man.

But if you’ve spent four weeks dreaming of lifting the World Cup, losing a semi-final and then being told, “Never mind, you’ve got one more game to decide who finishes third,” it all feels a little… underwhelming.

Imagine climbing a mountain, slipping a few feet from the summit and then being handed a certificate for reaching the scenic viewpoint.

Nice.

But not quite what you had in mind.

England and France both arrived believing they could reach Sunday’s Final.

Instead, they’ll be asked to lace up their boots one more time for a match that neither of them really wanted to play.

I’m sure both managers will say all the right things.

“It’s important to finish strongly.”

“We owe it to the supporters.”

“The players remain fully motivated.”

Well, they have to say that, don’t they?

The truth is that if you’d offered both squads a flight home the morning after their semi-final defeats, I suspect the departure lounge would have been rather busy.

To be fair, there are positives.

Players who haven’t featured much finally get their chance.

Youngsters gain valuable experience.

Supporters get another opportunity to watch their team.

There’s nothing wrong with any of that.

It just doesn’t feel like the ending anyone was hoping for.

And then there’s the little matter of modern football’s never-ending calendar.

By the time this World Cup finishes, many of these players will have been going almost non-stop for the best part of a year.

Club football.

European competitions.

International qualifiers.

The World Cup.

Somewhere along the line, football stopped asking players to perform and started asking them to endure.

Of course, FIFA will tell us every match matters.

Another game.

Another full stadium.

Another global television audience.

Another celebration of the world’s greatest sport.

Funny how all those wonderful sentiments also happen to come with another set of tickets sold and another evening of television coverage.

I’m sure that’s purely coincidental.

Nobody grows up dreaming of finishing third.

Children don’t run around the garden pretending to lift the Third Place Trophy.

They dream of the Final.

They dream of the winner’s medal.

Everything else is simply what’s left.

Still, the whistle will blow, the match will be played and somebody will finish third.

Whether anyone remembers who that was in ten years’ time is another matter entirely.

Anyway, what do I know?

I’m just a grumpy old man.

Drop a comment so I know I’m not the only one suffering through this tournament.