The World Cup is the “mother of all wars.” In one gloriously gory month, all the great stratagems of long departed military heroes are on view: Rope a Dope, Shock and Awe, Blitzkrieg, Scorched Earth, Masada and the reckless abandon of a David facing off against Goliath. Even derisive failures such as the Bar-Lev and Maginot Line defenses still find adherents, who inevitably fail as miserably as their pathetic kindred souls of old.

Sadly, the World Cup has quickly gone; in its wake lie many dashed dreams and not a few bruised egos. But take heart, the recent voting by the executive committee of FIFA (Federation of International Fighting Armies) for designation of the two forthcoming battlegrounds has once again stirred emotions worldwide to frenzied heights. The rabble’s lust for battle and the rush to get home advantage pitted the sharks against the winnows in an election that rivaled the WikiLeaks for viewer attention. But more on this later.

What made this last cup so fun-filled is that, for all the altitude training and endless boot-camp drills imposed by tinpot despots and their brass oozing generals preparing their troops for battle, the designation by FIFA of the Kibulani and the vuvuzela as the only authorized munitions for this war certainly leveled the playing field.

The latter is a modern day improvisation on the blood curdling war cries of the Zulu and Mau Mau warriors that sowed terror in the hearts of colonial enemies. The former is football’s equivalent of Saddam’s failed scud missiles. As with its predecessor, the Kibulani was also much touted about its rage and range. Well, history does repeat itself and this Wunderball was no less inaccurate than the erratic scud. There were some direct hits, to be sure, but most of the time the gunners had no idea what trajectory their missives would take. There were even reported sightings of some Kibulanis bouncing around the base of Mt. Kilimanjaro.

Before the memories fade and reality turns to lore, I would like to share highlights from my campaign diary, written in the comfort of my virtual Emperor’s Lodge at the teeming Coliseum.

As one can never be assured of how long one’s preferred warring party will last in the slugfest, one has to resort to constantly changing strategic alliances to stretch out one’s sustained interest in the conflagration. The much-respected adage of “My enemy’s enemy is my friend” is the surest way to maintain a high testosterone level throughout the successive set battles. For those of us mired in Third World-ism, that also means rule No. 1 is forever: “Never root for England”. This sometimes makes for strange bedfellows, but what worked for Saladin during the Crusades is certainly good enough for me!

Embedded journalists accompanying the various warring parties also play an important part in the propaganda wars that parallel the action on the battlefield. The taunts hurled across enemy lines by these venomous vermin often backfire and inspire an otherwise weaker enemy to cheeky undreamed of heights — and then the fun begins.

Memorable moments from the fighting frenzy:

• These days, no self-respecting war comes without its WMDs (Whiners of Mass Distraction). Two participants in this year’s cup vied for the top honor: England and Argentina. At least Argentina showed some pizzazz at first before it fizzled out in front of the relentless Panzer Divisions of Germany.

• Another army people love to hate is Germany. However, this year’s multiethnic eleven was unnervingly un-Teutonic in appearance and spirit. More than one observer must have felt some embarrassment to admit that they secretly admired the exciting side as it made mincemeat of England and ripped Argentina at the seams. The young team eventually wilted, but they earned our respect along the way.

• The neutral Swiss broke away from tradition by socking it to the big bully to its north. After a brief fling in the ring, they reverted to being fodder for more aggressive foes.

• Until Argentina’s ignominious exit, Maradona loudly touted the supposed superiority of the Argies and insulted just about everyone except the Pope. Sadly no longer Field Marshal of the blue and white stripes, maybe he should instead set his sights on recovering the Malvinas from another nation in self-doubt.

• England never fails to deliver! Their highly paid and pompous prima donnas, full of glamor posing before the proverbial “mirror mirror on the wall…,” time and again were caught leaden-footed by “lesser mortals.” What would the Oracle of Delphi have uttered at the presence of poster boy Becks rallying the Red Lines from the sidelines?

• Only one army from the Axis of Evil qualified for this war but unfortunately North Korea’s dream match-up with the Great Satan was not to be. Recent events clearly indicate the North Koreans are not aware the World Cup is over.

•  Already embroiled in two other costly wars, a prolonged third war was not on the cards for the Yanks. Their exit should have been sooner but better late than never.

• Zizo, the retired head-butting icon of the French had more impact on French team tactics than previously thought. Rumor has it that all platoon members were drilled in banging their heads on the team bus but an army medic, speaking on condition of anonymity, has confirmed that these sessions exceeded recommended guidelines with the result being vintage Gallic hard-headedness. Not that their national psyche is short on it, yet more gloom and doom was dumped on France as “Les Bleus” sang the blues — their off-field antics entertaining us much more than their no-show at showtime!

Even once their surrender was official, the shambolic withdrawal of the retreating French troops was eagerly watched by the bloodthirsty masses. The top brass, stung by their troops’ continued insubordination, forced them to walk back to France, thus recalling Napoleon’s melancholy march back from Moscow.

• Algeria actually fielded a team manned mostly by Citoyens of the glorious Republique. It is intriguing to think what might have been the fortunes of the French campaign had some of these more disciplined troops decided to fight for their parents’ adopted nation. Never mind they didn’t win a game — may God bless them for the goalless draw with England, which gave cheer around the world as much as it did in Scotland and Ireland.

• In war, cheats as well as spies should be shot on the spot. Case in point is the deliberate last second goal-line handball by Uruguay that led to the elimination of a valiant Ghana. Nothing short of a summary execution, news of which would spread like wildfire from one battleground to the other, can keep renegade troops in line.

• Africa was well represented with six combatants, but not surprisingly, these were eventually exploited. Treachery, sometimes in the form of white mercenaries leading the native charges, saw to their downfall one by one. So what else is new?

• Long before the tournament ended, the war correspondents voted overwhelmingly to give the coveted Golden Tear Award to Rooney even though there was no shortage of worthy candidates, including the goalless Messi and the narcissistic Ronaldo.

•  Although they have a ruthless army, the Israelis have never made it to the World Cup. However, the new-look Likud, never one to shy away from rogue action, apparently sent covert agents into the fray to avenge the strategic nuclear agreement reached by Brazil and Turkey with archenemy Iran. Rumor has it that the team’s Gatorade was spiked at halftime, giving Israel’s Dutch allies a reprieve. How else to explain the shock exit of Brazil’s fearsome Republican Guard? Not even the potent combination of Voodoo and the magical Lula could save the Samba Brigade.

• The Dutch, taking their cue from Serb troops they “observed” in Srebrenica during the Bosnian war rather than their own veteran sharpshooters Cruyff, Gullit and Van Basten, bullied their way into the final. Mercifully, they succumbed to a Spanish side that only relied on skill to become the last warring nation left standing on the battle pitch.

• Nothing bonds a platoon quite like the silence in the aftermath of a fire-fight as exhausted troops reflect on how they supported each other and overcame a no-holds barred enemy. For one fleeting moment at least, warring rivals from La Liga were no longer Catalans, Castilians, Basques or Andalusians, but rather one Iberian family. Viva Espana!

•  Flirting with the possibility of being renamed “Fleeing Incognito From Accountability”, FIFA grudgingly reprimanded its bumbling blue-helmeted peacekeepers on the field and promised to relook at new Star Wars technology to rewrite the rules of engagement as demanded by the beleaguered combatants.

• Lastly, in a perverse kind of way, I was bemused by the lack of shine shown by the select group of war heroes predestined for World Cup greatness by giant multinational sponsors. Pepsi and the Gang got it wrong and football is the better for it.

Lest one think I have no positive joy chords in me, let me set the record straight. Endless negative media reports overwhelmed us in the lead-up to the firing of the first salvo. Those that were quiet in the heady days of apartheid were now concerned with racial tension, crime, AIDS, poverty swept from view and misplaced spending priorities. All true, but does Africa have a monopoly over such issues? Missing in much of the commentary were the positive factors that led to selection of South Africa in the first place, not to mention the anticipated positive after effects in the continent as a whole.

I am truly happy that the vuvuzela wielding Bafana Bafana buffs have pulled off a successful war. This year the Jules Rimet Trophy belongs to Nelson Mandela. In jail during the ugly years of apartheid, his vision has steered his country from once being the banned pariah of sporting events to being the gracious, if boisterous, host of the greatest sporting event on earth. Sadly, he did not attend all the festivities but there could have been very few around the world that did not have a kind thought for this wonderful man that has done his bit to create a better world. Madiba, I salute you.

Which now brings me back to the recent malicious maligning of FIFA, now dubbed by the Western press as “Foes In Foreign Arms”. Stung by the callous disregard for their proficient technical proposals, stalwart members of the Coalition of the Willing vying for the honor of hosting a future war have been crying foul. Certainly no one can accuse these countries of not knowing how to start wars. However, in spite of impeccable qualifications in this regard, superb venue facilities and promises of sponsorship largesse, apparently they were not able to demonstrate to FIFA’s executive committee members that they actually know how to end wars!

It is rich that these same countries that are in the forefront of worldwide democracy advocacy are now blaming the secret ballot for their stinging elimination. And when was the last time someone’s cast ballot in parliamentary or presidential elections was made public knowledge? Worse still are Coalition of the Willing football executives who unwittingly exposed themselves by moaning about being double-crossed during the voting. This would imply that they were guilty of some sort of vote tampering in the first instance! And I suppose that was transparent whereas the vote was not?

If I were a taxpayer, and I thank God I am not, I would be asking some hard questions about the pearl necklaces, private yacht rides and countless other perks shelled out by the Coalition of the Willing to enhance its “technical presentations”.

Let me now admit to having attended many a World Cup match in both North America and Europe. Quite honestly, nothing could have been more enjoyable. I have nothing but praise for their organization, great atmosphere, crowd control and security etc. No doubt, if one of the Coalition members had won a bid, another sterling performance would have been in the offing. But that’s not the point and hardly the signal just sent out by FIFA: “Football is For All”.

This is the World Cup and not the World Series, where a maximum of two countries can conceivably field teams for a final. The World Cup is truly global and all countries large and small have a chance to participate. All have an equal right to dream and that’s what we fight for!

Muhabbab Halazouni is a Saudi writer based in Makkah.

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