Praying for a Spanish succession

Back in Blighty and delighted to feel summer after some sub-zero Joburg nights.

Come the semi-finals, World Cups tend to lose their sheen, although the fact two of the final three have yet to raise the trophy adds some flavour. I would love to see the Dutch or the Spaniards break their duck, but the Germans are the stars of this show, their double demolition of England and Argentina still creating shockwaves.

If the Spanish are similarly despatched tonight only two years after tiki-taka danced its way to the European title, there will be more hours' sleep lost across the Rhine. The Netherlands v Germany would be the socio-historians' showdown of choice, but aesthetes might plump for a dash of Iberian flair instead. Alas neither Spain nor Holland have yet to catch fire like we know they can. I picked out the Dutch along with Brazil before the finals as the best team, but pre-tournament predictions are next to useless, e.g. 2002.

Talk here in England continues about who to blame for the Three Lions' humiliating loss to Germany. Take your pick from Fabio Capello, Premier League wages, 4-4-2, the lack of a winter break, the lack of WAGs, Rob Green & the Jabulani ball, Frank Lampard's disallowed goal, the lack of young players, the national style of play, Margaret Thatcher's rejection of collectivism and the fact we didn't score as many goals as the opposition (as Mick Jagger noted).

The only relief from this masochistic gloom came when that plonker at the New York Post dissed soccer on the front page, allowing 45 million grieving Englanders to holler 'At least we don't....' and then when Argentina, the last nation Britain went uniquely to war against, managed to do even worse against the Mannschaft.

Football, politics and identity are hopelessly mixed in most parts of the world and certainly here. Though I love visiting Germany and have had German girlfriends, I find it utterly impossible to cheer for them at football. Brought up on Sunday afternoon war films, my father's tales of the Blitz and of 1966, and ingrained memories of agonizing defeats in 1990 and '96, I hand the Deutscher Fussball Bund the pantomime villain costume without thinking, even if they look on the Dutch as their nemesis and us as soccer small-fry.

Tonight should be a great clash of styles anyway, with the scales gently tipping in reverse since Euro 2008. Spain must up their game to contain the deadly German counter-attacking which has taken the Cup by storm. Perhaps scoring first is the key to nullifying it. There are so many German dangers to keep tabs on - the twin towers Schweinsteiger and Khedira, Ozil the floating menace, Friedrich bombing up from the back, the two razor-sharp Poles up front...Spain could be in danger of forgetting to take the game to their opponents.

Perhaps they should follow Brian Clough's maxim on preparation in their minds: "Let them worry about us".

With finals often cagey affairs, we could do with an epic game before the Cup winds up again.

Bring it on.

-Sean O'Conor, London