Super Niklas Bendtner

No one splits opinion among Arsenal fans like Niklas Bendtner. 

For me? Well, the boy's a bit special. 

For all those that doubt his quality, take a look at this review of his performances last season. He made a bigger impact than you may think - lots of goals, assists...and plenty of entertainment along the way. 

Welcome back to the fold for today's game against Birmingham, Arsenal's No 52. The man to reignite our season.  

Debutants Impress In Milan Stalemate

Gary Lineker once declared “Football is a simple game; 22 men chase a ball for 90 minutes and at the end, the Germans always win." I’m beginning to think something similar about the Emirates Cup – four teams turn up every year, and Arsenal always win.

This inevitability did not stem the enjoyment of watching Arsenal take on AC Milan on Saturday afternoon. It was for many the first time they had seen their side play this season – the first opportunity to catch a glimpse of the new blood and a chance to see whether old faces had developed their games.

Our opponents? A bunch of geriatrics who, had they not arrived at the stadium on the team bus, could easily have taken advantage of London’s Freedom Pass scheme.

Clarence Seedorf, Alessandro Nesta and Gianluca Zambrotta are not getting any younger and, rather sadly, their increased immobility seems to have rubbed off on the previously indefatigable Mathieu Flamini, who looked a shadow of his former self. Or at least left a rather large shadow on the playing surface.

As the teams were announced, the largest cheer of the afternoon was reserved for Jack Wilshere, the home-grown hero of whom so much is expected. His performance was a little disappointing. He kept things ticking over very ably, but looks a little slow and there seemed nothing exceptional about him yesterday.

He is the antithesis of Andrey Arshavin, who makes little effort during the game, but when he can be bothered to get involved, makes something significant happen. Indeed, the first goal came from a dynamic run by the Russian and a perfect through ball for Chamakh, who finished well past Abbiati.

Chamakh was playing at the Emirates for the first time and his performance was very encouraging. From the opening minutes, it was clear that Wenger had made another astute signing. Chamakh is quick off the mark, has a great first touch and brings others into the game intelligently. He won’t be prolific this year, but he will add a lot.

As for Arsenal’s other debutant, Laurent Koscielny, he too was impressive. A clone of his defensive partner, Thomas Vermaelen, he has a good leap on him, displays good pace and looks like a ball-playing centre back. He looks a better player than the departed William Gallas.

AC Milan equalised in the 75^th minute, with the skilful Pato glancing in a header from a Seedorf cross. Arsenal had plenty of chances to win the match, the best falling to Mark Randall, who shot straight at Abbiati. The game was to end 1-1.

This was not a match to set pulses racing, with the crowd becoming a little restless at times at the lack of action. Indeed, they broke into a Mexican Wave at one stage, with David Beckham – part of the audience – even getting involved.

The game was memorable more for exceptional moments of skill. In the 42^nd minute, Pato perfectly controlling a 50-yard ball before unleashing a fierce shot just wide; in the 71^st minute, Vela nutmegging Zambrotta and curling the ball agonisingly wide of the post.

As always, however, Arsenal lifted the Emirates Cup the following day. And some say the Gunners never win silverwear. Tsk.

Meditation: A Layman's Experience

I did something fairly out-of-the-ordinary on Saturday - I went to a meditation workshop. 


A friend of mine has formed a company called Headspace, which attempts to make meditation relevant for our times. 


He has stripped away all negative, new-age connotations - joss sticks, sitting cross-legged, making strange noises - and devised something far more practical, and far less uncool.


What he has kept is a sense that meditation can have a really positive impact on our lives. 


Below is my account of the day. I hope you find it interesting. 

I had never done anything like this before. Before going to the Headspace event on Saturday, my perceptions about meditation were very limited – it involved sitting cross legged on a mat, in a room filled with incense, making am “om” noise. I also had some belief that, through the process, you would empty your mind of all thoughts.

So I arrived at the BAFTA building on Piccadilly ill-informed, but curious. To be honest, my main motivation in going was to spend my Saturday doing something so very out of the ordinary. I guess I also hoped that, somehow, it might rid me of the dreaded writer’s block that, as a freelance writer, afflicts me on an all too regular basis. 

The first thing to say is that Headspace is as far away from my preconceptions about meditation as it is possible to be. I was a little daunted by the idea of spending between 10am – 5pm in an auditorium. I needn’t have been – what I got was a day’s workshop that was both engaging and fascinating.

Much of the success of the day was down to Andy, our lama - or Buddhist teacher - for the event. Andy is a fantastic and charismatic performer. If he’s not juggling, he’s cracking a joke or reciting an anecdote. At one stage, Andy wanted to know how the day’s first meditation had left people feeling. “Hot and sick” someone replied (OK, so the experience isn’t for everyone). Andy pondered for a moment before turning to Rich, the brains behind the marketing, and saying, ironically, “Rich, any chance we can get that quote on the website?”

On another occasion, someone asked whether it may be possible to put on excess weight if one spends too much time meditating. Ignoring the slightly peculiar nature of this question, Andy embarked on an anecdote about a lama who became diabetic through lack of exercise. As a result, he was put on a speed-walking programme and would conduct his teaching powering through the Tibetan landscape, with his followers desperately trying to keep pace. It summons a quite ludicrous image.

This is typical of Andy – he is not too proud to laugh at the more absurd side of meditation. Yet he is passionate about his craft and is compassionate towards his audience. You can’t fail to warm to him, and as a result you want to give this meditation lark a right good go.

So it was that about 150 of us sat bolt upright, placed our hands on our laps and began to meditate in unison. Andy guided us through the 15 minute process – of which there were four or five during the day. During this time, we were asked to focus on our breathing, scan the length of our body to register any small sensations, question whether our bodies felt light or heavy, and so on.

I can only say that the result of this process was surprisingly powerful. So what did the experience of meditation involve for me? Allowing me for a moment the type of mumbo-jumbo parlance that Andy and Rich would no doubt frown upon, I would describe it as follows: it is a process which promotes heightened physical and mental feelings, while at the same time filtering many of life’s troubles and anxieties which, you begin to realise, really don’t matter.

Part of the day involved a walking meditation exercise – yes, seriously – which I conducted around Green Park. The exercise turned a saunter through the park’s space into a trip around an amusement park. You feel more aware of the vibrancy of the colours in the trees, the twittering of the birds, the harmonious interaction of everything around you. Everything is, well, rather beautiful.

The experience of meditation brought to my mind the famous Juvenal quote when he addressed what people should wish for from life: “It is to be prayed that the mind be sound in a sound body.” I think that meditation is striving for the same thing. In today’s age, everyone seems to rush around like a blue-arsed fly. But isn’t this state the only thing that really matters?

I’m convinced that meditation, the Headspace way, could be very beneficial to many people. Through a 10 – 15 minute process, the exclusion of trivial matters induces a sense of calm and introduces a different perspective on your life.

I’d definitely recommend going along to the next event – it’s great fun, and seven hours really could change your life. 

You can find out more about Headspace here.

Cesc, Just Say Nou

For the past couple of years it’s all been about Cristiano Ronaldo. This year, Cesc Fabregas’ will-he-won’t-he move to Barcelona is the transfer saga of the summer.

Yesterday, after Arsenal’s first pre-season game – a 4 – 0 win over Barnet - Wenger made his latest attempt to put an end to all the talk of Fabregas leaving the Emirates, stating that it “has to stop” and “we [are] not listening to any offers”.

Often when a manager says they have no intention of letting a player go, they mean precisely the opposite, something more along the lines of “Give us another £5 million and he’s all yours”. There is no doubt in my mind, however, that all the rebuffs served out to Barcelona from Wenger have been just that.

And I entirely agree with Wenger’s stance. In my eyes, only if Barca were to offer a fee close to Real Madrid’s for Cristiano Ronaldo – the figure bandied around is £80 million - would it make sense. 

This time last year I felt entirely differently. I had always regarded Fabregas as over-rated – sound technique, I felt, but all too often he just passed the ball sideways and seemed to drop deeper and deeper as the match went on, as if wishing to escape from the real hustle and bustle of the game. 

The first time I saw him play last season, in a Champions’ League qualifier against Celtic, I saw a different man. He seemed not to shirk the physicality of football but absorb himself in it. Consider this: before last season Fabregas had scored 29 goals in 231 games at an average of roughly one in eight matches. Last season, he netted 19 in 38 games for Arsenal, and 4 in 8 for Spain for good measure.

The 2009 – 10 campaign saw him add stamina, power and sheer determination to his game. In short, he became a man. To lose Fabregas now would be to lose one of football’s best performers.  

And yet there is a further reason why Wenger is so desperate to hold on to his captain. Rightly or wrongly, Wenger’s ideology post the Invincibles team, and perhaps influenced by the fact that he could not compete against the financial clout of Chelsea, has been to buy talented youngsters and watch them develop, and also grow as a side – to play together and form a unity and understanding of one another’s game.

Cesc was not the only one to raise their game last season – Alex Song, Walcott, Diaby, Nasri, Bendtner, Ramsey all showed greater quality. They are still young and I can see them improving even more during the forthcoming campaign. Up until defeat at Spurs in mid-April we were in serious contention for the title. We made the early running but couldn’t sprint for home.

This season we could be in serious contention for the title. This season represents the climax to Wenger’s long-term strategy. But we need Fabregas, the most important cog in the machine. Without him, Wenger’s masterplan will not have the chance to reach its denouement.

Moreover, this will take the wind out of Arsenal’s sails and render them a ‘selling club’. This message will filter down to the players who will believe they are good, but not quite good enough to challenge the likes of Chelsea and Man Utd.

Fabregas discussed his future with Wenger before the World Cup, describing the chat as “the greatest conversation I have had with someone in my life”. I suspect Wenger’s stance on the occasion was “Let’s finish what we have begun. Give us one more year and you can still play for Barcelona for the next ten.”

I’m sure the way Cesc currently feels is comparable to that age-old relationship dichotomy – Is it possible to be in love with two football clubs at the same time? If Arsenal do not let him go, he won’t sulk, he’ll roll his sleeve up and give his all for a club, and manager, who he has great respect and fondness for. But, clearly, his heart lies with Barcelona.

This is how I see things panning out: Jack Wilshere will be sent on loan to Bolton this year – under the tutelage of Owen Coyle, a man who encourages his sides to play in a similar fashion to Arsenal – to fast-track his development. Fabregas will get his move to Barcelona at the end of the season and Wilshere, one of the few who, like Fabregas, makes Wenger’s eyes light up, will inherit Cesc’s crown.

Yet for the time being, keeping the marvel that is Fabregas at the club is not a matter of life and death, it is more important than that. 

Video: Brick-by-brick fussball: World Cup final: Holland 0-1 Spain (aet) | Football | guardian.co.uk

Well the World Cup is over. One of the things I will miss most is the Guardian's quite ridiculous Lego re-enactments of tournament games.

It always brought a smile to my face, especially the representations of the bald players. Incidentally, in the clip below Heitinga is very lucky to be portrayed with a full head of hair. Messers Robben, Sneijder, Webb are as expected.

So here is the World Cup final, Lego style.

Video: Brick-by-brick fussball: World Cup final: Holland 0-1 Spain (aet) | Football | guardian.co.uk

Robben Reliance Drives Oranje to Final

Holland 3 Uruguay 2



At Green Point Stadium, within a stone's throw of Cape Town's infamous Robben Island prison, how appropriate that it should be Arjen Robben who slammed the door on Uruguay's World Cup dream.


This campaign has been the polar opposite of Holland's Euro 2008, where the Dutch blitzed past Italy and France before coming unstuck against the Russians in the quarter final. In South Africa they have reached the final, but have not played that well getting there – this was certainly true against Uruguay.



When you think about Dutch football, you think of a team of great individuals. There is a feeling, however, that these individuals are just that – people who play for themselves and not for the team. Bert Van Mawijk has bravely attempted to change this ideology, where individuals sacrifice their egos for the good of the team. How symbolic that the iconic number 14 shirt is worn by the limited spoiler Demy De Zeeuw at this tournament.



Back home, Van Marwijk's compatriots are proud that the Oranje play football the right way and it'll be interesting to see how they react to their team if they don't lift the World Cup. They are often regarded as 'Europe's Brazil' and we all saw what happened to Dunga after the Brazilians went out at the quarter-final stage.

Against Uruguay, it was the man who most obviously represents the new selflessness of Holland that made the first mark. Van Bronkhurst, taking advantage of space created by a Uruguayan defence tightly marking Robben, let fly from 35 yards with a screamer which flew in off the post.



1 – 0 Holland, but they didn't seize the initiative and when Uruguay levelled it was a fair reflection of how the game had gone.



Forlan showed in the previous game against Ghana the vicious swerve he could get on the ball - he was at it again here. Some have claimed, unfairly in my eyes, that the keeper should have done better. I put it down to the fact that no one in the world can strike a ball as sweetly as Diego at the moment. To score against the Dutch was one better than his father did – he was part of the national team that lost 2 – 0 to Holland in 1974.



Van Marwijk made a crucial change at half time, replacing De Zeeuw with the more forward-thinking Van der Vaart. Playing with two defensive midfielders, Holland had looked very ordinary, especially given Dirk Kuyt's limited threat.



Robin Van Persie has worked tirelessly on his own upfront in this tournament. Some may say that he hasn't scored enough goals, but that misses the point. His role has been to pull defenders out of position and hold the ball up, to the benefit of his team-mates. In the 68^th minute he plucked the ball out of the air beautifully before laying on a great chance to Van der Vaart, whose shot was saved.



Ultimately, the Oranje's greater attacking threat broke down Uruguay's resistance. They conceded two goals in four minutes, firstly through Sneijder – the fifth of the tournament for Holland's Golden Boy – then through that man Robben.



Kuyt crossed from the left and Robben scored with a header that Alan Shearer would have been proud of. What makes Robben so entertaining to watch is his total belief in his own ability – similarly to Cristiano Ronaldo, he genuinely believes he can do anything. . And usually he does.


Robben exited the field of play with a minute on the clock. The huge smile on his face, the high fives with his team-mates, made no secret of his feeling that his team had made the World Cup final. He reckoned against Uruguay's 'Garra Charrua', their quality of giving everything against all odds. Perreira scored a minute into injury time and threatened to score an equaliser, but even for the Uruguayans it was too much.

So Holland return to the World Cup final for the first time since 1978. They are my 'second team' and I hope they go and win it, but Van Marwijk will have to learn from this game if they are to lift the trophy. Against Uruguay, they were too defensive and looked ordinary as a result.



My advice. Van Bommel – he can only be in the side because the coach is his father-in-law - should be replaced by Nigel de Jong. And Eljero Elia must be a greater threat than Dirk Kuyt.



My hunch, though, is that the winner will come from the Spain vs. Germany game.

The On-Song Unsung

For the first time in 19 days there is no World Cup football today. This gives us the perfect chance to catch our breath and reflect on the tournament gone by.

Some will find their stock has fallen – Rooney, Ribery and Ronaldo to name a few. Others, such as Messi, Villa and Robinho, have affirmed their positions at the game’s highest table. But what about the players who entered this tournament as relative unknowns and have shone on the world stage?

In celebration of these players, I announce my World Cup ‘Unsung XI’ - in a Maradona-inspired 3-4-3 formation:

Mark Paston, New Zealand: The Kiwis have been the World Cup’s surprise package – never having won a point at the finals before, they emerged unbeaten in this tournament. Paston form was massive in this achievement, making a series of world-class saves against Italy.

Diego Lugano, Uruguay: The Sky Blues’ skipper was a mainstay in a defence which did not concede a goal in the group stages. What price Lugano lifting the trophy on 11 June?

John Mensah, Ghana: With the jittery Richard Kingson in goal behind you, you have to excel, and he has done. Remarkably, his defensive partner is named Jonathan Mensah, leading me to believe that ‘Mensah’ must be the Ghanaian equivalent of ‘Smith’.

Antolin Alcaraz, Paraguay: The headline-writer’s dream. “Italy Escape From Alcaraz” declared The Times after Paraguay’s opening game. He’s pretty good too – Paraguay are into the quarter-finals and they’ve only conceded one goal. It’s largely due to The Rock at the back.

Michael Bradley, USA: Son of the national coach, but you’ll hear no claims of nepotism. No one has put in more effort at this tournament than Bradley – a genuine box-to-box midfielder who can score goals too, as Slovenia found to their cost.

Landon Donovan, USA: America’s biggest talent, ‘Landycakes’ scored three times during the World Cup. His strike against Slovenia was, for me, the tournament’s finest. Landon, you the man.

Vladimir Weiss, Slovakia: Direct, quick and tricky, Weiss has terrorised defenders at this tournament and outshone Slovakia’s biggest name, Marek Hamsik. Now he just needs to find a way to oust Adam Johnson from Man City’s side. 

Anthony Annan, Ghana: In size and technique he reminds you of Lassana Diarra; in his reluctance to leave the centre circle, there’s something of Jon Obi Mikel. Regardless of this, you can’t question the quality of his displays for Ghana.

Keisuke Honda, Japan: In Arsene Wenger’s words, Honda is “the player of the tournament so far”. Honda, ahem, ‘kick started’ Japan’s campaign with a goal against Cameroon and looks a born entertainer. And he can't half hit a free kick.

Asamoah Gyan, Ghana: Gyan has turned it on when it really matters with late winners against Serbia and the US. One more goal and his World Cup tally will be higher than his shirt number – the first time this has happened since 1954. 

Siphiwe Tshabalala, South Africa: He scored the opening goal of the World Cup, and it’s odds-on to win the goal of the tournament. He followed this with all-action displays against Uruguay and France, outshining Steven Pienaar and giving Bafana Bafana fans cause to blow their vuvuzelas proudly. 

Coach: Bob Bradley, USA.  During the entire tournament America only lead a team for two minutes, yet came close to earning a quarter-final spot. Bradley instilled a never-say-die attitude into his players, created a unified camp and also had a good eye for tactical changes. 

Crossed The Line - Dave Henson

Dave Henson has only gone and done it again.

You won't find a more comprehensive account of England's defeat to Germany anywhere. And this song is guaranteed to put a smile back on your face.

"I just can't comprehend that appalling display so

I'm blaming those guys from Montevideo."

Respect, Henson.

Enjoy!

Anyone For Tennis? No?

With all this talk of the World Cup it is easy to forget that there’s a tennis tournament going on in SW19 – the most famous of them all, Wimbledon.

I was lucky enough to go along on Monday, to catch Roger Federer escape from two sets down and Laura Robson make her Centre Court bow. The sun was shining, the courts were pristine and lush and the crowds were replete with beautiful women. No doubt about it, it was a lovely day.

Yet for the first time in Wimbledon’s history there was not a single Englishman in the draw. I wondered if my visit to the All England Club could shed some light on this.

My trip there brought to mind John Betjeman’s poem, ‘A Subaltern’s Love Song’:

Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!

Tennis at the beginning of the twentieth century was a gentle pastime to be enjoyed before, as Betjeman did, you put on your fineries and attended the club dance. It was an elitist game for the upper middle classes. Has tennis changed all that much in Britain since these days? I would say not.

This is not to say that the upper-middle classes don’t make good sportsmen or somehow lack the determination to succeed at the highest level. No one could argue that, in the world of cricket, Andrew Strauss or Mike Brearley didn’t have sufficient mental strength to succeed at the highest level of their sport.

The problem is that tennis is only played by a limited number of people and, put simply, the bigger pool of players you have to choose from the more likely that you will develop world-class individuals. 

Wimbledon cements the elitist view of tennis. I was a member of a tennis club when I grew up which, similar to the All England Club, imposed a strict ‘All-White Clothing’ policy. I never liked it as it felt too regimented and did not allow me to express myself - I don’t believe it is a way of encouraging youngsters of playing the game. Roger Federer loves donning his all-white outfits when he comes to Wimbledon, but would he feel the same if he had to act in accordance of this rule for 52 weeks of the year?

Last year’s champions Federer and Serena Williams always speak fondly of the tournament – they love the quaintness and “very Englishness” of it but you feel they don’t revere British tennis. Due to the perception of the game in this country, Federer, as well as Novak Djokovic and Rafael Nadal could all have been lost to other sports if they were British.

The ATP Tour Finals were held at the O2 Centre last November and this was a step in the right direction with music blaring out between games and funky graphics giving the occasion a little razzmatazz. But more of this is needed to get tennis back on track in the U.K.

In my opinion tennis needs to be seriously rebranded in this country so that it is regarded as a game for everyone, and not just the highest echelons. Maybe then we would see an Englishman win Wimbledon. Otherwise the game will continue to be won by a foreigner, who, after collecting the trophy, will make his way back to a country where tennis is taken a lot more seriously.

A World Cup Highlight - 1998

I wish to share one of my favourite World Cup moments with you.

The national anthem is generally regarded as a formality, a pointless exercise to get through before the action kicks off. But not always...

On 23 June 1998 the Chileans faced Cameroon at Stade de la Beaujoire, Nantes. Ivan Zamorano was in the Chile side that day, a man so cool that, deprived of the no.9 shirt at Inter Milan, simply, and brilliantly, chose to play with 1 + 8 on his back instead.

He decided that if they were going to recite the national anthem they would do it properly, and rouse the side and fans alike. The Chilean talisman was responsible for one of the most memorable moments from World Cup 1998 - at once stirring and very, very funny.

Best of luck to Alexis Sanchez and Chile tomorrow. Let's see something to rival this before the match gets underway.

The Vuvuzela Song

Check out 'The Vuvluzela Song' by David Henson - I heard it on Radio 5 live this morning and thought it was very funny!

"I think I'm going to call Nelson Mandela

And get him to order me a vuvuzela"

Superb.

Battle of the World Cup Minnows: Slovakia vs New Zealand

Marek Hamsik: The obvious replacement if either of Jedward pursue solo careers.

The Mighty All Whites

Scrolling through the World Cup games before the tournament started I picked out New Zealand vs Slovakia as the least interesting in the finals. So I thought I’d watch it, in its entirety.

Sometimes the least hyped games turn out to be the best and I could find myself pleasantly surprised. Who would come out on top in the battle of the World Cup minnows?

The Slovakian team contains some players of renown – Stanislav Sestak scored six goals in World Cup qualifying and Marek Hamsik is coveted by some of Europe’s biggest clubs. But it was the Kiwis I was more interested in seeing.

That their side contained players who turned out for AFC Wimbledon, Worksop and Yeading in their time tells you all you need to know about the All Whites. And what is it with Kiwi sides and their colour-themed nicknames? Urban myth or otherwise, the New Zealand shuttlecock team are known as “the Black C**ks”. I daren’t try and verify it on Google.

As the national anthems struck up I dearly hoped this would be the only time when the sides weren’t on song. The first half hour didn’t fill me with confidence, however, and it was defined by shanked clearances, over hit free kicks and shots blasted high and wide.

As a consequence, my mind wandered away from the football and onto lookalikes. I had to double take when I saw Martin Skrtel, who I was convinced was Wentworth Miller from ‘Prison Break’, and New Zealand’s Simon Elliot is a dead-ringer for Art Garfunkel. Apparently he is penning a song about his search for England's no.21 in the Rainbow Nation: For Emile, Whenever I May Find Him.

Slovakia began to get a foothold in the game with Vladimir Weiss and Hamsik looking to have more quality than their opponents. Both were involved in a clever free-kick routine in the 43^rd minute with Mark Paston palming Hamsik’s shot over the bar.

The European team eventually opened the scoring through Robert Wittek with a strike which will certainly not feature in the ‘Goal of the Tournament’ competition. “A bread and butter goal” was BBC commentator Martin Keown’s accurate description.

At this point, the game entered a lull with few meaningful chances. Weiss was denied by a last-ditch tackle by Winston Reid after a decent move, and the Kiwi Shane Smeltz – who I’m sure had a tough time of things at school – missed a decent chance at the other end.

Then in the 93^rd minute – drama! The Slovakian defence, thinking they had the game won, switched off and Winston Reid nipped in and scored with a header. The Kiwis had secured a point they barely deserved, their first in World Cup history.

Was it drama enough to leave me pleasantly surprised as I had hoped? I would say "no". Like many a match at these finals it was a disappointment, with New Zealand looking like a limited side and Slovakia looking good, but not quite good enough to break down a well-drilled outfit.

Oh well, Chile play Honduras at the same time tomorrow.

A Word In Your Ear, Fabio

So we drew 1 – 1 against the USA. It’s not the end of the world. Our opponents were an experienced side, well organised by Bob Bradley, and currently lie fourteenth in the world rankings.

And it’s unrealistic for a team to play quality football throughout an international tournament. In 2008, the Dutch played scintillating football before coming unstuck at the quarter-final stage against an Arshavin-inspired Russia. A disappointing result – and ours wasn’t even a defeat – gives a coach an opportunity to reflect on the game and remedy what went wrong.

That said, the notion of Capello as an infallible being was dealt a severe blow on Saturday. If I had the opportunity to bend Fabio’s ear I would make the following five suggestions to get us back on track:

GET RID OF EMILE: Heskey probably outplayed Rooney on Saturday but England’s forward line ain’t big enough for the both of them. Wayne has evolved as a footballer over the last couple of years with Ferguson honing him into a predator supreme, which explains his record of 34 goals in 44 games this season. Compare his run of excellent headed goals with his pathetic headed effort in the second half and you see how important it is to give him the platform to do what he’s been doing all season for United.

DISPENSE WITH STEVE’N’FRANK: How many times do you try something before you admit it doesn’t work? It seemed the first thing Capello accepted when he took the position of England manager was that these two can’t play together. And yet for the biggest game of his reign he changes his mind.

Lampard, the man who orchestrated Chelsea’s remarkable end to the season was reduced to babysitting Steven Gerrard, for whom the term ‘headless chicken’ – albeit one who’s good at football – springs to mind.

PLAY GERRARD ON THE LEFT OF MIDFIELD: Ah, the infamous Left Midfield. A position no Englishman dare tread. And yet Ronaldinho, Zidane and Cristiano Ronaldo have all made a pretty good fist of it in recent years – so why not Gerrard? Perhaps the problem isn’t so much that Gerrard lacks the technique to play there, more that he doesn’t have the humility to give it a good go.

PLAY DAWSON: It may be that Capello’s World Cup defensive picks are his nadir as England manager. His decision to choose King has come back to haunt him; Ferdinand, clearly not 100% fit, was always going to be susceptible to another injury; and Carragher’s loss of pace was palpable against the USA.

The best defensive partnerships tend to follow the rule of one combative player combined with one who has pace – think Terry/Gallas, Hyppia/Henchoz, Toure/Campbell. Being the only player left with any pace to call upon Dawson could have the opportunity to stake a claim he never thought possible a few months ago.

GET RID OF 4-4-2: I would be interested to know how many sides in the World Cup are playing a Bore-4-2 system. I suspect very few, yet the English still do. It is an out-dated formation which asks far too much of your left and right midfield and often leaves your midfield vulnerable after your wide men have pushed forward.

A 4-5-1 / 4-3-3 offers both greater assurance in defence and would be far more effective going forward, with Rooney and Lampard benefiting in particular.

Look, I’m not entirely writing off England’s chances of winning the World Cup, and there were some useful performances at the weekend – Terry, Johnson, Cole, Lennon, for instance. It’s just a question of shifting the chess pieces around the board a little, and who knows what will happen.

So my chosen team to face Algeria next Friday would be as follows, in a 4-3-3 formation: James – Johnson, Terry, Dawson, Cole – Barry, Milner, Lampard – Gerrard, Rooney, Lennon.