Skipper

I don't know why I always get sucked in but each time I do. Just like those poor buggers who posted St Georges' flags on their cars for the South Africa effort, I had invested some hope in the World Cup bid voted on in Zurich today. I thought the English bid- delivered by the inevitably hyped up team of Davids Beckham and Cameron plus a royal prince- was excellent, especially the contribution of the Manchester City guy from Moss Side.

Like a sap I waited along with crowds in the freezing cold in Manchester, Milton Keynes and London while various luminaries and interviewees breathed bogus life into the chance that our bid might succeed despite the facts: it had been sullied by eare ly infighting, 'handbagate', Lord Treisman's resignation, ill-timed Sunday Times and Panorama reports, not to mention some extra time hooliganism on the terraces.

Mathew Amroliwallah, onsite in Switzerland for the BBC, almost ran out of people to tell us we were set to win as the tension racked up. I almost believed they were right. Then whispers entered the discourse that we had not got it. But then... well, it was just like the tournament for real. After all the hype and ballyhoo we were knocked out in the first round! How many of the 22 countries voted for us? Two! I don't think I'll get excited when the location of the 2030 tournament is decided, But we'll probably put in a bid, we'll probably mess it up but still think we're going to win. And then, in the best tradition of England and the World Cup ever since 1966, get stuffed again.