Balls Galore: England down, again!

They would shout so-called ‘patriotic chants’ at the top of their voices, plastic cups in hand, belly out and shorts almost slipping down to their ankles. Old ladies, frightened shoppers and the neighbourhood moggie cower away as they move as a hooligan band would, striking terror with their noisy presence and verbal aggression.

The moment someone in the group casts the first brick at a shop front and glass window breaks, that’s when trouble often breaks out.

No, English fans have now largely moved on from all that mindless violence – not that the disease has been completely eliminated.

In Brazil, the English army appear to be quite a quiet lot. Their state of docile conformity must have a lot to do with the less than nationalistic hoopla or fervent hubris with which the England team was sent off to the Southern Hemisphere three weeks ago in preparation for the World Cup in Brazil.

Come on, not even Kate, Prince William and the royal baby think England could knick it!

Maybe it was the distance – the tough job of eking out a decent living for many an Englander is as much a priority for the former miner is Sheffield as it is a cobbler in Curitiba.

With the time zones resulting in match schedules falling conveniently for viewers in the Northern Hemisphere, most decided to park themselves the whole month of the Cup within the comfort of their living rooms.

We are after all, World Champ viewers in our living rooms - comfortably parked in our sofas, stuffing our faces silly with packets of vinegary crisps and washing it all down with copious amounts of fizzy colas.

But perhaps the biggest reason is the `underwhelming’ exploits of the English team – grandly given the sobriquet; the Three Lions.

If I were to share even the slightest hint of the proud cat’s DNA, I’d sue for complete dissociation! Their performance on the field makes them positively more like a bunch of pansies if not prissy pussies! After a 2 – 1 loss to the aristocrats of European football – the Italians in its first game; they emerged from their second crunch game with 2 goals blasted past their keeper.

The problem was they only managed to score one. Put that down to Luis Suarez 2; Wayne Rooney 1. Ah..what their fans would give for the likes of Gordon Banks, Peter Shilton or perhaps a Ray Clemence!

What else is there to do but to pack up and leave?

Redemption might soon come though – if the Italians show them some European brotherly compassion.

After two games played by both Uruguay and England, things cannot be any gloomier for Queen Elizabeth’s subjects. (I brought her into this simply because I remember being invited to attend a reception last week at the British High Commissioner’s residence in Jalan Ampang to celebrate Her Majesty’s birthday. My apologies ma’am, for my dereliction in not responding.)

Back to the Group D table. England lie rooted at the bottom with egg in the points column, negative two in the Goal Against column (having scored 2 and letting in 4 in two matches).

From the bottom of the pits, England manager Roy Hodgson can only hold out a pair of upturned palms and beseech Italy to do them a favour – to beat Costa Rica, and also later to do what his boys failed to do; beat Suarez and his rampant South Americans.

Even then, there will be several other scenarios that have to be considered as far as goal difference is concerned. For the mathematically-disinclined, I will save you the hassle but suffice to add, winning and losing alone (3 points for a win, 1 for a draw and none for losing) is not enough as the ultimate determinant of where in the group table a team stands. It also depends on the number of goals scored or conceded.

For England fans who have taken long enough leave to last them time off work till the final game on July 14 (trusting in the forlorn hope that England will be present defending one end of the Maracana pitch), there’s still some three weeks to get lost in the Amazon. What better destination perhaps to have so much time on one’s hands then to go gallivanting in the Brazilian jungle!

If England’s layabouts (well, some of them) are leery of leeches, terrified of piranhas or do not find giants pythons cozy or cuddly, there’s always the lusty Latin lasses down in Ipanema.