Australia is really good at being just not shite enough to go to the World Cup, so I expect trophies

By John Miller

Friday the 17th of November, 2017


That time has come again when I patriotically care about soccer, as the game of soccer-ball is known in these parts. Football can be American hand-egg, Footy is and will always be Aussie Rules, and Rugby is rugby. These are all things that were ordained by Jesus, but soccer is also a neat way to spend two hours getting increasingly nervous.

After four years of being only interested in soccer inasmuch as Spurs might be on the telly on a Saturday night, or worth a Google the morning after a 2.45 am mid-week Champions League appearance, the time has come to look on in awe as old man Timmy Cahill demonstrates that age is still just a number.

Yes, it’s Cahill jersey time again.


Seriously, what is that guy on? I swear to God he was older than me back when I could still do 200 crunches, and that was back before the Internet was invented.

There is still plenty of time to hop on the Socceroo bandwagon though, casual sports fans, as the World Cup in Russia is yet a good seven months away.

We don’t know exactly who we’re playing yet, but the power rankings did just come out, and Australia is dead last, in 32nd spot. That puts us behind Saudi Arabia, Panama, South Korea, Tunisia, Japan, Iran, and Costa Rica, in the Mickey Mouse spots that exists because the FIFA marketing department thinks it gives the United States a better chance of qualifying. Better luck next time boys, group of 64 when.

Well, at least our fans are better looking.


So where to from here, Australia?

First of all, you need to have an opinion about Ange Postcode, the Australian manager. If you’re a Brisbane fan, you probably remember Ange fondly, but if you are anybody else, it’s schadenfreude time.

I for one wish Ange all the best, and I’m going to defend him vociferously. Not because of any love for Brisbane, mind you, but just because it is my patriotic duty to not talk shite about my country’s manager, until after we get eliminated from the tournament and he gets sacked.


Yes, way may pine for a return of Guus, when our best player was in his prime, and I could name at least three other players, but we must play the cards we’re dealt lads.

So who else is there to root for, apart from the immortal Timmy? Will we see any goals at all that don’t come off Cahill’s dome?

Filthy casuals. Haven’t you even heard the legend of Mile Jedinak, who plays for Villa, and is also the glorious Captain of the soccer team of our great sporting nation?

You know, beardy guy. The Ned Kelly of Australian football, the man whose head is almost as lethal as Timmys, and who overpowered Honduras with his pure strength of will.

So between Mile running up the pitch for set pieces, and Timmys darting into the box, we have that aerial menace going on.

Can the rest of the lads get it together?

What will the draw throw up for us?

All questions that I am suddenly interested in. Stand up for the Socceroos.


Full disclosure: John Miller’s IRL name is Frank Faulkner. I’m an Aussie and when I’m not obsessing about Conservative politics I also enjoy ethnic sports. Mostly just waiting for the Ashes to start though.

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