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T the throws are thrown. A child's shoe. You're stupid … Thank god, he went to bed and can not see his shoes being thrown against a wall or swearing.
More time, largely without incident. We know what will happen. Commentators can not resist, all they want to talk about are penalties. The curse of England, England Achilles Heel, the disappearance of England. They arrive. Penalties arrive
We know what's going on. Portugal in 2004, watching a small portable TV in the middle of a field in Glastonbury, England, loses. Two years later, in the Gelsenkirchen stadium, standing, arms around the waist of my fellow journalists at the back of the press box. England loses.
In 2012, another quarterfinal and a false hope against Italy, a false optimism. We were offside, we played for penalties. We will win this time. No of course not. Once again, it is the opposition that celebrates. We're going home.
All memories are alive, all bad, all sad. I can not watch that anymore. I will not put myself through another time. I say farewell to those who watch the game with me
My heart is already hurting me. The World Cup of England is over. I will go for a walk. I will smoke a cigarette even though I have not smoked for years. So, what if it takes a few minutes of my life? It's not as if I ever saw England win a penalty shot anyway.
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