Farewell hype, roll on the French revolution

MERCIFULLY, at 4.30pm on Wednesday, the Spanish referee Jose Manuel Garcia Aranda will blow his whistle to begin the opening match of the 1998 World Cup between Brazil and Scotland in the gleamingly new St Denis stadium in Paris. Scotland, who I strongly fancy to win the toss, will have elected to play towards the Eiffel Tower end and thus Ronaldo of Brazil will have the honour of launching the greatest of all sporting tournaments by kicking the ball from the centre spot into the opposition half as required by Law 8.

That same Law emphasises, however, that the game does not start officially until the ball has travelled the distance of its own circumference; a pedantic point, perhaps, but worth mentioning if only for the benefit of all those who have become expert in football's ancillary activities but who have yet to interest themselves in the game's fundamentals.

That vital first roll is worth savouring for another, more important, reason. It will mark that blessed moment when the ball takes over from the bullshit and will be welcomed by genuine football fans everywhere with an explosion of relief powerful enough to blow another hole in the ozone layer.

World's end to world's end play will then ensue and for countless millions the cloud of collective bliss that will envelop the earth for the following 33 days will be a fitting celebration of a game that has suffered surprisingly few alterations since it first took shape within these shores a century and a quarter ago but has acquired a load of unfortunate off-pitch baggage.

As an event, the World Cup dwarfs even the Olympics in length and the amount of concentration it requires; so much so that the staunchest aficionados will have their love for football fully tested by a daunting schedule of matches. It may prove far too much for those whose all-embracing love for the game is but a recent development and who have yet to include a World Cup in their devotions. Interest can flag early in a menu that offers 48 games in 17 days - and that's just the first course.

In the past 20 years the number of finalists has increased from 16 to 32. The growth has had more to do with commercial considerations and to providing the finals with an authentic worldly appearance than with improving the standard of football. Indeed, it is not until the quarter-finals stage that the event can be guaranteed to take on its full, compelling intensity.

But there can be no argument that the presence of less traditional football nations has done much to strengthen the game's grip on the world's imagination. In return, newcomers like Cameroon and Nigeria have added the prospect of a small tremor of giant-killing.

Having made it possible for a wider spread of countries to attend, Fifa have to ensure that their journeys are worthwhile by contriving a group stage so each play at least three matches. Hence the fusillade of fixtures that begins on Wednesday and, when scanned at a distance, offers some fascinating encounters.

After Brazil-Scotland we can look forward to Italy-Chile on Thursday, France-South Africa on Friday, Spain-Nigeria on Saturday lunchtime and Holland-Belgium on Saturday evening. Unfortunately, South Korea-Mexico on Saturday afternoon might have to be sacrificed for other duties; and that's after only four days.

It is all too much and sympathy is due to those who have no liking for this event - although I disqualify from that sympathy certain sneering breakfast-time TV presenters. At least, the open dissenters are being honest. There are those who feign to love football whose new-found loyalty, I delight to think, will be severely tested over the next five weeks.

But it is neither the length nor the complexity of the World Cup that is the greatest danger to its comfortable existence, it is the build-up - a period that has become so prolonged and trivialised that it threatens to doom the event before it starts. Many would blame the media for this but it is difficult to avoid the implications of staging it in France.

It is too near England for a start. We've been beset with hooligan scares for at least year - I've raised a few myself - and despite all the brave precautions, that the authorities of both countries have taken, the problem remains. The tournament is being played on a powder-keg.

The great ticket controversy has been with us for almost as long and is nowhere near a solution even now. The French have been much less than sensitive and efficient over ticket distribution but their task has been far more difficult than England's in Euro 96 and, heaven knows, we were far from perfect then.

The real culprits are Fifa who lay down no proper guidelines about ticket distribution and seem content to milk the proceeds without a care about ensuring that tickets get into the most deserving hands. It is far from the responsible attitude one expects of a governing body.

But can we complain when we have witnessed a pathetic lack of professionalism on behalf of one of Britain's representatives. I refer not to Scotland, whose deportment during their preparations has been exemplary, but to England, whose behaviour has been extraordinary. Glenn Hoddle has allowed his players to take advantage of his forgiving nature.

I'm a Gazza fan of long-standing patience but I fully support Hoddle's decision to leave him out. As for Terry Sheringham, I can't believe he could so flagrantly breach the trust his manager placed in him. But there is a silver lining to that particular cloud - Hoddle has the perfect excuse now to replace him with Michael Owen from the start. But England are probably beyond rescue by anyone. I fervently hope the same can't be said for the World Cup.

IT would have been a callous heart that didn't melt at the sight of Michael Atherton scoring his composed and skilful century in the First Test at Edgbaston on Thursday. Let his example be a comfort to all those having a hard time at work. Be patient and diligent and, moreover, be assured that one day retribution will be at hand. And always be mindful that there is more than one way of expressing the feeling encompassed in the word "bollocks".

THE millennium is already proving to be a pain what with a vastly expensive and needless dome being constructed in sight of our Canary Wharf offices and people panicking that they're not going to be anywhere fashionable when the clock strikes it in.

But now comes the news that football is going to be affected. I hadn't realised that the 20th century is to be ushered out on a Friday night and that 2000 and all that makes its bow on a Saturday. It has been mooted that there will be no football fixtures on the first day of the new age because people wouldn't be in the mood for it.

It is obviously not a decision made by anyone sensible. After all the nonsense that will inevitably accompany the arrival of the millennium, a full programme of Saturday football will immediately restore a sense of perspective. All football fans should fight against this ridiculous suggestion.