Tee prime puts boot into feast of Brazil

Travelling home from another victorious outing – The Press’ Losequest six-a-side team having notched a ninth successive league win – the inestimable Five Live Sport was feverishly relaying across the airwaves that there were, then, 100 days to go to the start of the World Cup.

Even allowing for my failed O-level maths exam – what is the point of flaming logarithms? – that means today, Saturday, March 8, leaves 95 days to the opening kick-about in the globe’s most mammoth single sports event.

And by that same dateline calculation that means there are 202 days to the first shots are powered off the tee in the biennial battle otherwise known as the Ryder Cup – golf’s most significant team tournament.

So which will be the better, more engaging, more compelling, contest?

The better chances of success obviously lie in the three-day golf showdown.

Customarily though, the World Cup has always been favoured in these here parts ever since flickering images of Pele’s World Cup final Swede dream-shattering hat-trick in 1958 were shown in the build-up to the first World Cup I can genuinely remember, England 1966.

And we all know how that turned out as we are so often reminded about the length of hurt since that sensational July 31 day of balmy barminess.

While the three lions’ conquest was draped in glory for those of the St George’s flag affiliations, it has to be remembered that the host nation played all their games at Wembley, when the then two towers represented a fortress – that is until Scotland’s visit less than a year later.

And also, the England ranks then boasted four world-class players, who would stroll into any global best XI – goalkeeper Gordon Banks, left-back Ray Wilson, half-back and skipper Bobby Moore, and attack leader Bobby Charlton.

There have been so many false dawns since.

Just four years later in Mexico with arguably a more capable squad, they exited to Germany in the quarter-final. Then in 1990 there was the semi-final loss in Italy to…who, else but the Teutonic nemesis yet again.

Since then it’s largely been flatter, flap and flop as various incarnations, including a so-called golden generation, failed to deliver.

Those frequent failures have since reinforced Roy Keane’s recent memorable exhortation that the Premier League is not the best in the world, though it is by far the most astutely marketed as an unrivalled and incomparable brand.

The shredding of hopes every four years, actually each two years given England’s virtual anonymity in European championships, has merely served to erode so much faith and interest.

Even with no fewer than five players from my own Liverpool club in the England starting XI to face Denmark at Wembley in midweek, the on-switch stayed off.

By not viewing I cannot truly comment on the game, though I was mildly buoyed by reports that Raheem Sterling occasionally shone and that the only goal of the friendly was notched by a presently rampant Reds’ team-mate Daniel Sturridge.

While, in Keegan-esque terms, “I would love it” if Liverpool players were central to a successful World Cup campaign in Brazil this summer, the chances of that are as likely as Alan Pardew using his head….to stop and think.

However, England fare, the World Cup will be essential viewing in the Kelly household – sorry Di – because of the chance to see the world’s best perform.

But if I am honest, and it may be a sign of advancing years, but I believe the pulse-rate will be more exercised by the Ryder Cup between September 26 and 28.

The collisions between America and Europe have been enthralling for almost two decades now with Europe having the wedge, sorry I mean edge.

The build-up to this autumn’s encounter at Scotland’s legendary Gleneagles course gathered momentum this week when European captain Paul McGinley unveiled Sam Torrance and Des Smyth as his first two vice-captains.

Torrance captained the European ranks to victory at The Belfry in 1989, while Smyth was vice-captain to Ian Woosnam in the success at Ireland’s K Club eight years ago.

And any time we can best the pumped-up Yanks always adds to the sweetness of the triumph.

So it’s a case of roll on 202 days when the opportunity of besting the pumped-up “yor-de-man” Yanks will carry far more visceral excitement than another World Cup meringue in the land of the Maracana.

Baleful and footsore sight

HOW stupid can the design of football boots get? Well, damn stupid.

In the wake of announcements that there is a new knitted pair of boots modelled by Luis Suarez and the first sock-boot – a foot sock already attached – is the tootsies apparel of Real Madrid and Wales poster boy Gareth Bale.

This column’s personal preference is for boots to be black or black or maybe black.

But in an era when every colour of the rainbow is available, Bale just looks like the latest painted-face circus recruit. Sheesh.