By Derek 'Robbo' Robson The Tees Mouth

What's that abour four strikers?

Friday 30 June
Argentina doing fine until Pekerman comes over all Sven and takes his best players off. Germany equalise. Pens inevitably won by Germans, who, having been a bit light-headed and entertaining, suddenly become efficient and ruthless in the shoot-out. Of course the shoot-out was followed by a saloon-bar brawl. I think one of the Germans said to Gabriel Heinze 'at least your dad'll be chuffed you lost to us'. The Argentines should be ashamed of themselves.

Saturday 1 July
Well, well. How does the song go? 'They're coming home, they're coming home, they're coming, chickens coming home (to roost)'

It'd be easy to just blame the manager, of course - so I bloody well will. To organise that amount of talent into that pathetic a performance is the reverse of bleeding alchemy. Even when his Rooney risk is paying off, Sven decides to give the lad the sort of role that would drive a nun to blasphemy and, sure enough, Wazza cracks. He couldn't get a kick of the real ball so he settles on Ricardo Carvalho's.

Rooney stamped his authority on the game

Team-mates are bloody magnificent once Rooney departs. Terry, Rio, Hargreaves, even Crouchy defend unbelievably. Deserve better. Portugal are a sham. Viana and Maniche going down for nowt, Ronaldo needling Rooney, the sheer emptiness of the team even when England are down to 10 speaks volumes for Scolari. I hope France stuff 'em.

But the real problem is Sven. He's the wrong manager, with the wrong skipper, the wrong formation, the wrong glasses, and the wrong girlfriends.

Theo Walcott, your time will come, son. Jermaine Jenas, do you know why you were there? Rooney, you're brilliant but we're running out of patience. Becks, good lad but time to say ta-ra. Frank Lampard - our second best player at Euro 2004, but cack in this one.

For now there are two consolations: one, sometimes it's a bloody relief just to not have to go through the agony anymore; and two, we can relax and watch Zinedine Zidane for a few more precious moments.

"I think you'll do a good job, Steve"

God knows this is a beautiful game, whatever Scolari and Eriksson do to it, and Zizou is the greatest I've ever seen. I hope he lifts it in a few days time, that trophy, with our favourite adopted Englishman Henry at his side.

(PS Someone told me Andy Murray beat Roddick in straight sets. Well that's just made your day complete, hasn't it Scotland?)

Sunday 2 July
So it is ta-ra Becks, England captain. Good on you for stepping aside. Whatever you say about the lad and quite often it's been about what he lacks (pace, brains, class, etc), he has always tried his damnedest for his country and I think we all like that. A right good lad. And there's never been an England player who can hit a dead ball like he can.

So farewell, David, and farewell your No 1 fan, Sven. Lampard or Gerrard? That was his biggest indecision. You couldn't have both in that system. Over to you, McClaren. Surely a man whose mentor was Sralex must have a bit more fire in the belly than the Swede... he's already got the same colour face as Fergie. And before you do owt else, give JT the armband.

"Tea's ready, Robbo!"

Monday 3 July
Andy Murray seems to have picked up the British disease. Out came the sun and dried up all the talent. Why do our lads and lasses wither in the spotlight? Wimbledon's taken over now of course which means we have to put up with that ridiculous barking blonde Sharapova. I couldn't play against that level of squawking. Social services came round my house yesterday afternoon to find out what all the noise was and I had to point out Maria was on the telly.

YOU CAN CATCH THE FINAL PART OF ROBBO'S WORLD CUP DIARY EARLY NEXT WEEK.