Today is the day that FIFA will decide who is to host the 2018 and 2022 World Cups. With England in the running for 2018 - and seemingly with a very strong bid behind them - the excitement starts with the morning's coverage on Radio 5 Live. By the time I leave for work the final presentations by the prospective home nations are well underway. Before heading out of the door I check out a bit of the Spain/Portugal presentation which looks strong (in that they have things like the Nou Camp, Bernabeu and shots of Puyol et al lifting the World Cup in South Africa to slot into their video) but the presentation is drab, nervous. Surely it's an open goal for England at the presentation stage, with David Beckham, Prince William and David Cameron set to make impassioned speeches.
At lunch I watch the speeches themselves and the promotional video. Beckham pours his heart out about his grandfather's influence on his life in football and even Cameron comes across as passionate and convincing. He also makes the exciting argument that England, as a genuinely multicultural country, could offer a home crowd of sorts for every single game - and never worry about not selling out the matches. It all sounds very, very positive.
I can't get my hopes up too much though - since reading Andrew Jennings' brilliant book Foul! I have virtually no faith in the integrity of FIFA. Blatter, Valcke, Warner and the rest. I also can't shake the feeling that they all hate England - but that might just be a paranoid victim mentality.
By the time 3pm rolls round I'm literally twitching with anticipation. Blatter is on the podium and he's in no rush to get the first envelope out - but eventually he does. Looking almost through my fingers I see it: Russia. Russia will host the 2018 World Cup. Heartbreak - but it doesn't feel like robbery yet. That comes later; when it is revealed that England received only two votes, and were eliminated in the first round of voting.
The weirdest moment comes some minutes later when Blatter goes back to his envelope to announce that Qatar will host the 2022 World Cup. This one leaves me feeling a bit sick - sick at the obvious chasing of new money by FIFA, but sick at the thought of how boring that tournament could end up being. There's none of the romance of South Africa or even Russia - just the tedious inevitability of glittering, brand-new stadiums and everything going perfectly smoothly.
I get home itching to write something about it, and duly spend 20 minutes hammering out my first piece for twofootedtackle.com in a while, a piece I'm rather pleased with. It can be read here.
So not the happiest result to the day - but if nothing else I'm pleased that I actually got some writing done.
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