France 98 - Meet Footix

France 98 - The Groups

The time is here, the date is set, and the World Cup is just around the corner.  The showpiece of the Beautiful Game comes to historic France this time around, sixty years after Les Bleus last hosted the competition in 1938, the last World Cup to take place before the Second World War.  This time around Europe is at peace, and the French public are throwing their support behind their national heroes, and flinging their doors to the world, with a greater number of teams competing in this World Cup than ever before.  Between 10 June and 12 July, 32 nations will set up camp in the country bringing their cultures and colours with them from across the globe.  As well as the old stalwarts of international football – Germany, Italy, Brazil, Argentina, England and the Netherlands – there’s also a few new flavours in town – Croatia, Jamaica, Japan and South Africa have qualified for the very first time, adding their shirts to the dazzling festival that awaits.

The Groups

For the first time, the World Cup finals have been expanded to include 32 teams, and the tournament will have eight groups of four teams, with the top two sides from each group qualifying for the second round.  We’re particularly looking forward to a tasty little affair in Group E, where the Netherlands and Belgium resume familiar hostilities, whilst over in Group F, the clash between the USA and Iran is bound to see fireworks – many are already calling it “the most politically charged match in football history.”  Meanwhile, over in Group H, Croatia make their first ever appearance as an independent state, having broken away from Yugoslavia – there’s a possibility that these two nations could meet in the Quarter Finals, in what would be a footballing powder keg.

Casting our eye over these eight groups, there's not an easy one among them.  "Group of Death" status this time possibly goes to Group E, with four excellent teams competing for the two qualifying places; and Group D, a hard group to call with tenacious Bulgaria, flamboyant Nigeria, skilful Paraguay, and everybody's "dark horse" Spain making it anyone's guess.  The first match kicks off on 10 June, and will see the defending champions Brazil begin the defence of their crown against Scotland in Paris.

Vive la Coupe du Monde!

It's that time again, that glorious once-every-four-years occasion, when the football family comes together from all corners of the globe, to put on a carnival of colour, talent, and goals.  It's always an exciting time, to take an hour out to delve into the magazine guide, to look up different and exotic venues, and to find the perfect place to stick up the wall chart.  Nope, there's absolutely nothing better than a World Cup.

And yet, this time around, something tastes terribly sour.  The clouds have covered the sun, the vultures are circling, and there's a whiff of sewerage in the air.

It breaks my heart, but I can't bring myself to watch this World Cup.  To do so would, for me, be to justify - to vindicate - a Russian state whose behaviour on the world stage appals me, and a Russian leader whose Cold War-era outlook and aggressive stance I believe has no place in the 21st century.  To throw down one's objections, and to head into the tournament waving flags, cheering, and buying the products of corporate sponsors, brings with it a level of acceptance that I am not prepared to grant.

You can couple this with the other group of people who I deem worthy of a boycott - FIFA - for if ever the stench of corruption hung so thick around a place, it's at their Zurich headquarters.  FIFA will claim that it's bringing football into new territories in order to open the game up to new audiences, but flick this cleverly-positioned veil away, and you'll find a deeper, more remunerative, reason.  Just how did Russia - in amongst high-calibre joint bids from Spain and Portugal, the Netherlands and Belgium, not to mention England - come out on top in the bidding process?  And how could FIFA have arrived at a decision to host their flagship tournament in a country where corruption in sport is rife; where racism is alive-and-well; and where, far from being discouraged, hooliganism is praised by members of Russian football's governing body.  It stinks, the decision to award Russia this World Cup stinks, and FIFA stinks.  But don't listen to me - let The Ugly Game tell you all you need to know.

So, what will I do instead?  I'm not prepared to go without my dose of football during a World Cup summer, so I've decided to go back in time instead, to re-live the best competition in my memory - France 98.  I've got the highlights DVD, the official guidebook, and other bits of memorabilia, so with a bit of creative thinking, and using this blog as a platform, I can still enjoy a month of brilliant football in the company of old favourites - Davor Suker, Alan Shearer, Carlos Valderrama, Dennis Bergkamp, and the real Ronaldo.  So join me, if you too have chosen to step away from the 2018 tournament, for a trip down memory lane - to the back streets of Paris, the waterfront of Marseilles, historic Lyon and everywhere in between.  The pre-tournament build-up begins on 6 June.  Vive la Coupe du Monde!

Painting by Parisian artist, Michel Delacroix

Remembering Grandad

10 March 1923 - 24 May 1998

But I could have told you Vincent, this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you

traiThese words have been ringing around my head this week.  On Sunday night we sat down to watch Loving Vincent, a film following the events that led to the death of Van Gogh.  The story is told through the Armand Roulin, son of the postman Joseph, whose job it is to deliver the final letter from the late artist to his brother.  The story begins in the south of France at Arles, then heads north, through a brief stop-over in Montmartre, before moving on to Auvers-sur-Oise, where Roulin meets the cast of characters that knew Vincent, and witnessed his final days.  Initially, Armand Roulin doesn't want the journey, nor does he see the point of the delivering a dead man's letter, but he is soon absorbed into the artist's world, and as the waters become murkier, so one question remains unanswered - how did Vincent, a man said to have been in a good mental state at that time, come to die so suddenly by a gunshot wound to the stomach?  In the end, of course, Armand has to satisfy himself that some questions remain unanswered; that some thirsts cannot be quenched; that people are not perfect; and that even the strongest of us cannot always manage the burden.  

Portrait of Armand Roulin, 1888

The world is full of phoney, vitriolic people with empty hearts and vacant minds.  As Van Gogh found to his ultimate cost, sometimes the only path is to follow your heart, spill out whatever is inside, grab all the wonder that you see in the world and do your best to share it, even with those who will not listen or look.  Vincent Van Gogh's soul emanated a beauty that was so far beyond the reach of other men, yet battled for his place in a society where he had been rejected by inferiors.  And in the end?  The world remembers Vincent - a man who created 800 paintings and sold only one in his lifetime - as the undisputed father of modern art.  As Joseph Roulin tells his son towards the end of the film: "The trick is to know what you are fighting for."  Perhaps Vincent knew that he would live on, long after death had taken his body away.  Perhaps he knew what he was fighting for, all along.

Self portrait, 1889

Created exclusively using 65,000 individual oil paintings, Loving Vincent has hit me to the point of tears, both for its poignant message and its perfect homage to the great artist.  How the directors (Dorota Kobiela and Hugh Welchman) managed to incorporate so much from Van Gogh's huge body or work into the film is incredible, and seeing so many of his masterpieces - along with lesser-known paintings - weaved seamlessly into the narrative is a joy to behold.  A must-see film for art lovers, culture vultures, and anyone who just believes there's more to life - more to being human - than flesh, blood and bones.

Landscape with carriage and a train, 1890

"In the life of the painter, death may perhaps not be the most difficult thing.  For myself, I declare I don't know anything about it.  But, the sight of the stars always makes me dream.  Why, I say to myself, should those spots of light in the firmament be inaccessible to us?  Maybe we can take death to go to a star, and to die peacefully of old age would be to go there on foot.  For the moment, I am going to go to bed because it's late, and I wish you goodnight and good luck with a handshake, your loving Vincent."

Starry night over the Rhone