Desi musings during the international break

The scene is a regal, luxurious and slightly intimidating office in a prominent part of the good, old town of Manchester that owes its allegiance to the color red. A man is on his knees, arms raised in the promise of deliverance.

For as the international bandwagon makes its dreaded pit stops across the European footballing continent, and indeed, the world, and the rest of us moan and groan at the sheer stupidity of it all, David Moyes breathes for the first time in weeks.

Everyone at Old Trafford has left for the day. But Moyes, that manic gleam in his eyes more pronounced than it has ever been, kicks back, a cold beer in hand, as he opens up a pack of potato chips and turns on the widescreen TV to see a familiar face.

“Roy Hodgson! Lets see you make sense of Wayne Rooney. Want my Januzaj to play for your England, do you? I’ll show you, we’ll show them all. Won’t we, my precious?”

And he clutches the photo of Adnan Januzaj even more tightly, as the camera retracts, and Moyes’ theatrical laughter fills the room.

That, right there, is the most exciting thing that will happen this weekend.

Football fans the world over bemoan the international break, and this one is no different. The yawn-inducing spectacle will see Spain and Germany top their respective groups, and the only one who will be complaining is Vicente Del Bosque, who now has to decide if he has to book a ticket to Rio for a Mr.Fernando Torres.

Although, judging by what Torres is capable of when someone pisses him off, as Jan Vertonghen found out a couple of weeks ago, it may be prudent to keep the Spanish team’s flight plan a secret for the time being.

But Vertonghen did bring about a sighting of the mythical Torres of old in that game, at least until the Spaniard got sent off. So maybe just get him a seat next to Sergio Busquets on the long flight down to Brazil; that ought to do solve Spain’s striker woes.

I knew I should never have doubted my ability to be a world renowned manager after all those seasons of Football Manager. They built a statue of me in front of Ashburton Grove! Top that, Sir Alex. Oh, wait; they already have one of him chomping gum down beyond the Sir Alex Ferguson End.

Moving on, not satisfied with engineering the transfers of Fabregas, Alexis Sanchez and Neymar to Bracelona in recent years, Dani Alves today poked his teeny, tiny nose into the Selecao’s business. In a tone that betrays the fact that the world works exactly how he wants it to, the full-back cautioned in-form Athletico Madrid striker Diego Costa from making any rash decisions in choosing to represent Spain over his native Brazil on the international stage.

It is now a foregone conclusion that Costa will turn out for Brazil next year.

More importantly, in an obvious new development, makers of FIFA 14 have alerted gamers that Dani Alves is now the most valuable player in the game, with an influence rating of 100. Should you have any troubles in signing a player, all you have to do is click the specially designed “Bring ———- to me” option available in Alves’ player actions option. Fill in the blanks at your heart’s content, kids.

Meanwhile, how Belgium failed to qualify for Euro 2012 is beyond anyone’s comprehension. But we will definitely see this alarmingly talented team in Brazil; all they need is a draw against whoever is their next opponent.

Lets face it, people, the big boys are all going to make it to the sands of Brazil, one way or another. The favorites will romp through, and England will scrape through. And an assorted supporting cast of easily interchangeable names will complete the crew for the biggest show on earth. And it will be the biggest party on earth, simply because, as Vin Diesel would say – “This is Brazil!!”

It will be a cornucopia of babes, beauty and above all, the ball. But until then, we should just hand over tickets to the big boys, and draw a lottery for the rest of them. The lottery would make for some great TV, so the channels won’t be complaining. And the rest of us can go back to our rowdy, rampaging weekend action. Everybody wins.

See, I could do a better job than Sepp Blatter, at any rate. As if handing Qatar the 2022 World Cup wasn’t bad enough, forget that ridiculous “winter world cup” proposal, he now goes on record saying that it may have been a mistake to award Qatar the chance to host the World Cup in the first place. Just how did he get re-elected again?

Perhaps the reason we feel so disenchanted with the international break is because it brings into sharp focus that which club football gives us so unselfishly – a sense of identity. Whether it is wearing you club’s jersey and hollering at a TV screen to proceedings that go on thousands of miles away, or identifying yourself as a “Gooner”, “Scouser”, or “Red Devil”, club football lets us be a part of something that is so much bigger than anything we could imagine.

While the World Cup does evoke strong passions the world over, irrespective of nationality, it comes with an idle, almost laughable thought that we shake away almost immediately – I wonder what it would be like to support India at a FIFA World Cup.

Comedian Russell Peters once implored at how the second largest population in the world could not put together a team of 11 decent footballers. And while the expression on his face (not to forget the subsequent Indian jokes) had me resigned to mouthing Govinda’s Pardesi Babu number “It happens only in India”, it made me just a little bit whimsical.

Why, I may just be getting a little philosophical. I think it may be time to return to our friend in Manchester. It has been widely rumored that Moyes has taken to carrying around an asthma inhaler these days, and that he takes a puff at it when he thinks no one is looking. And no, he does not suffer from asthma.

The rumors were true, for once! Our protagonist throws away the inhaler with a look of disdain and contempt, and proceeds to walk into a cold Manchester night, apparently unaware of the downpour that is a feature of these parts. This may be a sign of things to come for Manchester United.

Either that or we will see Moyes frantically searching the streets when normal service resumes. The only thing that we know for certain is that nobody can quite wait for a return to those glorious weekends spent suspended in a world of wonder and amusement.

Oh, yeah, and I assume my general tone of nastiness will be excused? I can’t be the only one. It is the international break, after all.