Now I know what it must feel like to be Swiss. To be someone who is ‘neutral’. Not in a gender way, though that’s very popular at the moment, but in a life way. To be neutral. To spend your life sitting on fences, being impartial and enjoying the security and comfort that whatever happens won’t really affect you in any meaningful way.

Well I’ve mastered watching football as a ‘neutral’ and that’s a definite start. Because from being in a position of ‘yeah, world cup, whatever…’ its all changed. The metamorphosis started on Saturday when France played Argentina, when I sat down as a moth (this is going to be the most stretched, distorted and abused metaphor ever). I entered the pupa phase when Uruguay beat Portugal and went through various stages of caterpillar as all the penalties were taken on Sunday. Last night I became a butterfly. A fucking great big one, snowy white with a red cross running symmetrically down my spine and I’m LOVING THIS WORLD CUP LIKE NO OTHER!!!

Let’s hope I don’t get sprayed with ‘Raid’ tonight.

But my full emergence was due to the brilliance of Belgium, the resilience of Japan, the wonder of the world cup to amaze and excite and the fact that I was neutral. A big, white and red neutral butterfly.

At the start of the match I wanted Japan. Mainly because my favourite car stereo is Japanese. And because they were underdogs. And fought like dogs. And they’re small and sweet. But by half time I was bored. Bit dull, bit reserved and the usual questions about whether Belgium’s unquestionable superstars can actually play together as a team. I asked Mel, she was busy in the garden so I had to work it out for myself watching the second half. And what a half of football that was. The best come-back in a world cup match since the last one. The most exciting… thing since shit last happened, the bestest, fastest, meanest, wickedest everything ever.

Japan scored. OMG. That was a turn-up, they couldn’t have read the script properly. I blame the translators. Then they scored again, with a fantastic goal. OOMMGG!!! Belgium are going out! But then something weird happened. Maybe it was inspired substitutions, maybe they ‘stepped up a gear’, maybe, maybe, maybe. But Belgium solidified, gelled, and were then galvanised by Jan Vertongen’s amazing goal. Which was either the luckiest, jammiest, flukiest goal ever, or the inspired touch of a true genius. It was a Da Vinci goal. Fellaini scored the equaliser and Japan looked worried.

I still wanted Japan to win, just because. And the match was heading towards extra time. The 93rd minute of 94. What we pundits call ‘late’. And in an exquisite move which moved the ball 92 yards in 11 seconds, Belgium scored the winner. Kevin de Bruyne suddenly looked like Kevin de Bruyne again, having looked like the check-out girl from Tescos for most of the match. Lukaku did what he absolutely had to do for his team to score, which was leave the ball alone. (“Belgium Emile Heskey, you’re just a Belgium Emile Hes-Key…”) And (ex-Spurs ‘legend’?) Nacer Chadli slid the ball into the net. We all went mad. Me, Toby, Eden, Romelu, Mel, all of us. And suddenly I became a Belgium fan. A massive one. Just like that.

Because that’s what being a ‘neutral’ is all about. Comes so easily to a man.

I won’t be neutral tonight. Tonight it’ll be more… total fucking panic.

Happy Tuesday (we can pray)

A xxxx