Has anyone Gianni Infantino’s phone number? An urgent matter has arisen that, if not corrected, would put a big stain on this World Cup for us viewers. If he can be contacted, all we’d do is ask for a review. He’s a great man, more popular than ever, so we would never tell him how to do his job. But we understand sports really well – really well – and this was a decision that nobody could believe. Probably decided on by someone who is very suspect.
Yes, Wednesday is an actual World Cup rest day.
After 27 consecutive days of games, featuring 96 matches and close enough to 10,000 minutes of football (16,000 if you count hydration breaks), they’re taking it all away from us for a whole 24 hours without as much as a thought for how we’re meant to cope.
Repeat: How much World Cup football will there be to watch on Wednesday? Nada. Zilch. Zip. Sweet Fanny Adams.
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One of the Belgian newspapers described their national team’s reaction to Balogun-gate as if they had been “stung by a wasp”, their indignation at the injustice of it all provoking them into their greatest World Cup performance since Jan Ceulemans’ grandparents were born. That sting, though, can’t have been half as painfully piercing as the moment that chasm in the World Cup schedule was spotted.
How do we fill such a gaping abyss when those first 27 days had given our lives a rhythm, a structure and, indeed, a purpose?
France v Morocco at 9pm on Thursday will end the anguish, but until then, there are some important dos and Don’ts to remember if you’re going to get through this.
We’ll start with the negatives.
Don’t try to switch back to daytime living – the fourth quarter-final takes place in the early hours of Sunday morning, so you have to stay in shape. Sit up ‘til about 4am, then, and just fill your time by watching, say, the shopping channel. But if the UroClub comes up for sale – ie, the 7-iron shaped tube that allows you to pee discreetly on the course – put away your credit card.
Don’t make any sudden movements from your couch; your muscles have barely been used for the last month, so you could banjax your hamstring or groin if you rise too quickly. And don’t call the gardaí if you think you spot a stranger in the kitchen – that’s the person you married 28 years ago. Also, stop assuming you see Ronnie Whelan in the clouds.
Don’t change your diet too much; there are eight more games to go, so the last thing your stomach needs is some kind of gastric shock by eating broccoli or the like. So, stick with the breakfast rolls, nachos, cheesy dips, chilli peanuts, chicken wings and spice bags.
Don’t assume there’s a panda living in your garden – just because the grass is as high as a fully grown bamboo field doesn’t mean there’s one in there.
Do try to locate your front door. It’s usually in the hall. You should see a handle on it, just pull it in a downwards direction, the door should open, and you’ll see something called daylight. If you can manage that, you’ll see about 87 leaflets for local pizza hotspots in your porch. Gather them up and put them in the green bin; otherwise, you’ll eventually be barricaded in your home.
Do go for a walk. That’s when you put one foot in front of the other and make a forward movement on, generally, a path. This way, the steps counter on your watch will stop assuming you died 27 days ago.
And do try to occupy yourself. Keeping busy is the best way of distracting yourself from the turmoil you will inevitably be experiencing. You could try, say, amusing your friends by preparing their dogs for Saturday’s quarter-final, while batting away their complaints about one-eyed Fia being selected as the goalie.
Most of all, just hang in there. Yes, there are three more rest days to come, so the struggle will be real, but unless you can get through to Gianni, you’ll just have to brave it. But if you can get through to him, just tell him one thing: overturn this.
