I set the alarm for 4:30am, but when the time came to get up, I didn't. It was cold, I was tired, and the thought of shivering through another early morning football match didn't appeal. Turns out I missed out big-time, as a 3-2 result ain't often boring.
I'll get up for the final tonight, though. It's Spain versus Netherlands, and it should be a game of pretty, pointless passing and tiki-taka. I'm thinking it'll play out like Spain versus Germany - Netherlands will sit back and hope for a counter-attack, and Spain will play at a low tempo to avoid getting caught out on the counter. Whoever gets the first goal will immediately clam up and defend. Both defences are good enough to kill off the match. I'm thinking it'll be 1-0 to Spain, but then again, I've been wrong about most things so far.
It's the last game of the World Cup, and I'm going to miss it. It's nice having football matches on every night for a coupe of weeks, and then a really good match every other night. When you live in Australia, and the closest you get to good football is a jerky, early-morning internet stream, the World Cup's a real treat.
I'll also miss Martin Tyler. Apparently, he's signed for ESPN and he's commentating for Americans now. I loved him when he was commentating for SBS. He's the best. The English might churn out over-hyped, technically-deficient footballers, and inconsistent, egotistical referees, but they DO do a good line in commentators.
So on the 287th last day of my 20s, I spent most of the afternoon following the GOMD around like a hypnotised puppy-dog. She's gorgeous in a red scarf and black pea coat. She's gorgeous in a casual, unaffected manner. She's gorgeous when she tilts her head and smiles, and incredibly, she's still gorgeous after she's gone, and the sound of her voice keeps rattling around the insides of your skull.