Fleeing Old Blighty, especially London, during the unfathomable annual bout of Murraymania is essential. Last year we holidayed in Buenos Aires during the first week of July / second week of Wimbledon and attended the unbelievable climax to Argentina's domestic season. Think Anfield 1989. Federer did the necessaries then, knocking out the anti-Englishman en route to lifting his sixth men's title in SW19. Apparently Our Andy could hardly contain his glee when told on camera of England's defeat to Germany, a long-time ally of his native Scotland. This year our undying gratitude went to Cesc's compatriot, a gentleman and eventual winner, Rafa Nadal, who may just be the world's happiest man right now.

Cubans are footie-mad despite being ostracised. When fuelled with rum (as they often are), the national and nationalised tipple, they make more noise than a vuvuzela. Geographically and politically imprisoned and impoverished, their meagre rations - yes, rationing still exists - do not stop them Havana good time. Leaving behind Britain's inane football punditry, which kicked-off before the tournament, was a bonus. Apparently it is important not to lose one's first (group) game. Very profound I'm sure, but based on flawed logic. Still, that didn't stop it becoming mantra during the first week of a tournament that needs shortening (but won't be). Take England's Group C to illustrate the fallacy. After the inept goalless draw against Algeria, we were told England must now [emphasis] beat Slovenia. True, but failure to beat the North African giants did not make it so, as was implied by the "now". Had we beaten Algeria and drawn with Slovenia, we would have also finished with five points but in third place. Perhaps England's dreadful display robbed everyone of their critical faculties.

The problem arose from drawing game 1 against The Yanks. By no mean does five points guarantee progression, especially if the group contains a "whipping boy" and / or few draws. Draws are significant insomuch as league football is not a zero-sum game. Each draw means one point is 'lost', reducing the maximum available from the initial 18. So two draws and a victory may not suffice. Six points are almost certain to guarantee a top-two spot, obviously. And the only way of gaining six points is to win two games. So draws are dangerous and potentially of little benefit; the initial premise is erroneous, as a little thought from the highly paid hacks would have made apparent. "Do not draw unless and until doing so ensures safety" should be the edict - albeit too much for poor Mick McCarthy to retain - because it allows me to segue to ...

Spain's shock defeat to the bread-and-cheese lovers from the world's richest country per capita. It was not the disaster the media et. al. wished to portray for the reasons stated above. I actually watched part of that game with my mum in attendance. Her interest in football has been minimal since Stanley Matthews hung up his boots. When Casillas made that pathetic attempt to thwart a rare Swiss attack that resulted in the game's only goal, I said to myself: "The goalie came out too far!" Her reply - she'd seemed engrossed in her knitting - was even more surprising that what I'd just witnessed: "Just like your goalkeeper!" I know it, you know it, and now I discover that even my dear old ma knows it. Somebody tell Arsene before he sends Szczesny back to a delighted, incredulous Brentford.

Doubtless you watched the World Cup in your role as potential scout for Arsenal FC. Did you see anyone you'd like to sign? I did. The referees. I do not concur with the apparent consensus that they did a good job. Heck, Howard Webb got the Final. But imagine the pedantic, anti-tackling officials plying their trade in the Premier League. We'd pass teams to death. If play was broken up by a sly tug or nudge, let alone the brutality meted out weekly to our players, yellow and red cards would ensue like confetti from the early stages. Kevin Davies would not get to 7 minutes, never mind 70, before being brought to book. Ironically, the one competition we stand most chance of winning we cannot enter. And with that sad thought I'll return to my summer pastime of Test Match cricket.