Legend and Gent

So, the World Cup is over for another four years: there you go. Last night's Final was a bit of a curate's egg to be honest, with one side making an effort to win the game by actually advancing into their opponent's half and - shock, horror! - trying to score goals. Meanwhile, the opposition fannied about in their own half, rarely venturing out of its confines, and for ninety minutes doing bugger all than try to draw fouls and the occasional corner, as if the only chances they fancied were set-pieces. Spain played damned well to little reward until extra time. Argentina played the kind of negative football that gives this game such bad odour to us fans of rugby union: diving and play-acting for the officials [thankfully in this case to little avail] rather than actually indulging in playing the game. It really was a noisome spectacle at times. In the end, it panned out as it always should have, with a very well deserved trophy for Spain. At the match's conclusion, when all was done and dusted, many of the Argentine players tried to create a ruck with the Spanish players. The only Argentine to show any grace and equanimity in this sorry spectacle seemed to be the great Lionel Messi: a true giant of the game who proved himself at the conclusion of this contest to be a true gentleman to boot...