“What a World Cup Darren Cann is having,” Jim Beglin said. And, with that one sentence, the despair that has lain across the nation like a greasy eiderdown these past 48 hours abruptly lifted and blew away, swept clear by the invigorating realisation that England still does have a viable interest in this World Cup, in the form of Howard Webb, the referee, and his team of assistants.
Cann had sent Beglin into ecstasies of approval by not flagging Luís Fabiano offside, when the Brazil striker was, er, not offside. Webb, meanwhile, was on fire, blowing when there were fouls and not blowing when there weren’t, and never once reaching for that tournament-terminating third yellow, in the manner of Graham Poll in 2006.
People are claiming the English went into this World Cup exhausted by the rigours of the Barclays Premier League season, but there is no sign of it from our brave officials and it can only be a matter of time, surely, before plastic flags bearing the face of the Webbernator are flying from every white van in the land.
Can our man go all the way to the final and thereby officially lay claim to the title “the world wide Webb”? Why not? There isn’t a referee alive who doesn’t long to be able to emulate the signature Pierluigi Collina look and although Webb’s hard-boiled Rotherham copper’s stare may not have quite the same kidney-chilling powers, it is as close as anyone on the present Fifa elite list gets.
It was encouraging to see Webb communicating expressively across the language barriers (“Basta! Basta!” he seemed to be saying at one point during Brazil v Chile) and making resourceful use of simple arm and hand gestures.
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It’s only a shame that he was seemingly oblivious that, within Chilean culture, to raise a thumb at someone is to suggest unequivocally that their mother is the unwanted product of a union between a truffle pig and a tree. (OK, not really. But it would have been quite funny, wouldn’t it?) After the excitement of Webb’s unflustered advance into the quarter-finals, Paraguay v Japan yesterday could only fall a little flat. Actually, it would probably have done quite a good job of falling flat all on its own. The game was as dry as dog biscuits and distinguished only by the moment when Peter Drury credited Honda with a “ferocious drive” — meaning, I am assuming, the Civic Type R, with the 2.0-litre engine, which goes like the proverbial stuff off a shovel, but he didn’t elaborate, so we can’t be sure.
In other news, the benchmark for laid-back behaviour in the technical area at this World Cup has again been adjusted. It was seemingly set for good by Joachim Löw and his assistant, whose twin T-shirt and navy cardigan combos made it look as though Germany were being coached by former members of The Beautiful South. But blow us all down if, the other night, the coach of Chile didn’t turn up with what appeared to be a latte in a takeaway cup — a significant breakthrough for bohemian practices in and around the dugout.
And if we’re talking about frontiers being shoved thrillingly outwards, what about ITV’s use of live music in its spacious punditry studio after Brazil v Chile? The commercial channel invited in Vusi Mahlasela for a rendition of When You Come Back (Sing Africa), complete with stools, microphones, acoustic guitars — the full Whistle Test.
Adrian Chiles, clearly delighted to be claiming a pioneering role at the point where Steve Rider meets “Whispering” Bob Harris, introduced the band, then tiptoed away to the studio’s dark perimeter to soak up the vibes in the company of a gently nodding Andy Townsend. Nice. On Friday, after Uruguay v Ghana, sets from Dumpy’s Rusty Nuts and One the Juggler, plus a report from Gareth Southgate on the exploding Norwegian skiffle scene.