Sunday is happy memory night. I've watched nine World Cups over 32 years. I probably sat in front of a television for a tenth, but have no recollection of it. I've seen a lot of funny moments: the Kuwaiti Prince in 1982, the goalpost collapsing during Mexico-Bulgaria (1994), Rene Higuita being himself in 1990, Rivaldo's "I've been shot" in 2002, Fred, Jo and Hulk for doing not very good impersonations of Brazilian footballers in 2014 are some of my favourites. And, of course, the many controversies: the Schumacher-Battiston incident (1982), the Hand of God (1986), the Rijkaard-Voeller spitting match (1990), the Frank Lampard goal that wasn't in 2010 and take your pick from 2002.
I’ve watched some great matches and a few good finals. Argentina-West Germany in 1986 was a highlight, Argentina-West Germany, version 1990 was the worst, with Italy-Brazil (1994) a close second. I watched the first four finals with my family and have memories of the un-airconditioned sweltering heat, the pre-match forecast (we all had to have one). France '98 was my first one not in Malta where the call home to register my prediction before kick-off resulted in my missing all the news about the Ronaldo mystery illness. From then until 2014 it was a new experience with my new family and friends. 2002 happened too early in the morning in a hotel room by myself, with a hangover so bad that it hadn't even hit yet; 2006 was the Toronto Italian party; 2010 was memorable for sick daughter (on me) in second half and Spain's win.
But it was the Final of Brazil 2014 that will probably remain in my memory for a long, long time. Back home for a few days (too few) for my sister's wedding, we watched the final outside, the day after the wedding, up high overlooking the beautiful Maltese evening, fireworks and all. I wrote about this in my epilogue about the 2014 World Cup. But it came back to me today. A wonderful night.
The TV set up.......
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