The road to the World Cup is a long, often painful trip. The qualification process takes two years to complete and the competition is held every four years.
Those of us from smaller countries have to go through the agony and sometimes ecstasy of qualification.
More often than not it's agony.
In my lifetime, my country Ireland, will probably only go to a handful of World Cups if I'm lucky.
My decision to go to Brazil for the 2014 World Cup in Brazil was based on a few things. Firstly a good mate of mine Stevie Duffy ( aka little legs )moved to Fortaleza on the northern coast of Brazil, so I have a gaff ( irish slang for house )to stay at.
Secondly Brazil is the holy grail of football, this is an once in a lifetime opportunity.
Ever since I was a wee lad growing up in Dublin city I dreamed of going to Brazil for the World Cup.
Lastly and most importantly, the missus gave me the green light.
Lastly and most importantly, the missus gave me the green light.
The dream usually consisted of me scoring a hat-trick to win 3-2, every goal is a cracker ( slang for brilliant )and often my head is bandaged from the brave diving header that I score not to mention the bicycle-kick clearance off the line to deny a certain goal. The stadium celebrations are ended abruptly with me bloody alarm clock going off at 3.40am just as Pele & Kenny ( King Kenny to his mates ) Dalglish have me on their shoulders running around the stadium. The fact that Pele is Brazilian and King Kenny is a Scot dosen't seem to phase anybody in the near 120,000 capacity stadium.
I will be adding to this blog as the countdown to my big adventure unfolds.
To be continued..........
