Anyone else find it a little easier than normal getting out of bed today? It felt like Christmas. Judging by the morning’s check of facebook and twitter many of you are in similar moods. World Cup!
It all starts at 1pm BST, when ITV’s coverage of the Opening Ceremony begins and I get to do my Wogan impression by taking the piss out of it all in a liveblog from the comfort of my sofa. Wogan 2.0, if you will. According to tvguide.co.uk, Adrian Chiles is to be joined by Marcel Desailly, Andy Townsend, Lucas Radebe and Francois – yup, definitely Francois – Pienaar. If that lineup sounds a bit smug and pointless, just be glad the BBC aren’t doing it.
I’m going to do my best to not start drinking until the football itself starts: South Africa and Mexico kick off at 3pm BST and, again, I’ll be liveblogging that for you poor working stiffs, with a match report going up as soon after the final whistle as possible.
France and Uruguay continue the Group A action at 7.30pm. As I’m only doing live coverage of the games on during the UK nine-to-five period – because by this point you’lll be at home in front of your tellies getting busily drunk so won’t need me and, quite frankly, I might need a break by then anyway – there’ll be no liveblog, but a match report will be up on Saturday morning.
It’s entirely possible that today might be a bit of a damp squib – 7 of the last 10 World Cups have opened with a goalless draw or 1-0, and France v Uruguay has drab score draw written all over it – but does it really matter? This is the first time in my life that I’ve been able to watch an entire World Cup: school, exams, holidays and work have all conspired to get in the way over the years. It’s also quite a challenge – I’ll be writing a report of every single match despite never having written about sport before.
I’m also expecting some kind of mid-tournament crisis when, pushed to breaking point by the likes of New Zealand v Slovakia, Honduras v Switzerland and, of course, Bongo Bongland vs The Former Soviet Republic of Bulimia, I completely freak out and lose my tiny mind mid-match and you can all read my life fall to pieces live, as it happens, from the comfort of your office.