Ten days ago it was in the bag – breathless pundits fell over each other to proclaim World Cup 2014 not only the greatest tournament, but also the greatest thing in recorded history: a bonanza of liquid football, attacking intent, and goals so good they made weird noises come out of your mouth. It was almost too much to take – three matches a day, each one throwing up quality and question in equal measure. How come Chile seem to counter attack with fifteen men? Who were those lookalikes playing for Spain? Why has a substituted player always run further than the team average?
And then, just as you were about to fire out a cliché regarding Hollywood’s inability to script such drama, Luis Suarez decides to chow down on Giorgio Chiellini. Mindblowing stuff, and we hadn’t even reached the knockout stage. Continue reading