32 teams, 64 matches, 144 goals, 260 yellow cards and a total attendance of 3,178,856; all of that, and the 2010 World Cup in South Africa was eventually decided by one of the most fractious, ill-tempered and cynical finals in memory.

After a tournament which started so slowly had burst into life as it wore on, it was perhaps inevitable that the final couldn’t live up to its billing – in truth, they rarely ever do. Two teams which between them had won a grand total of 0 previous World Cups bred the kind of win-at-all-costs mentality which we saw tonight in Johannesburg.

The Dutch were desperate that their third trip to the final wouldn’t be their third set of losers medals (after the great Dutch sides of the 70s were beaten by West Germany and Argentina in ‘74 and ‘78), whilst for the Spaniardswas a genuine feeling that their first taste of a World Cup final was also destined to see them lift the trophy for the first time, to catagorically cast off their reputation of big-tournament chokers. This combination of desperation and  feeling of entitlement was a heady mix, and one which resulted in a final which might be more remembered for its card count (14 yellows plus Johnny Heitinga’s slightly harsh extra-time red) than for the quality of its football.

The way this pressure and desperation to win manifested itself in the two sides was very different though. The Dutch had a gameplan which seemed to consist, in the first half at least, of trying to make Howard Webb blow his whistle as many times as possible. Disrupt the flow of play, and the Spanish wouldn’t be able to build the sort of metronomic passing rhythm which can prove so deadly. It was working too, but this Dutch side was certainly not the Dutch that I’ve grown used to watching over the years. Their play was physical, confrontational, and at times absolutely fucking horrific. For a case in point, I refer you to Nigel de Jong’s Cantona-esque lunge on Xabi Alonso, which had it been a few inches higher could well have taken the Basque midfielder’s head clean off his shoulders. Or at least given him a nasty case of collapsedwindpipe-itis.

The Spanish were clearly rattled by these tactics, and in particular by the aggressive attentions of Mark van Bommel. As a result, they started going out of their way to get Dutch players booked – particularly those that had already been shown a yellow card (which by about 30 minutes in was virtually everyone on the pitch, most of the coaching staff, and a few of the players’ mums) – by throwing themselves to the floor, writhing in agony and waving the ever-helpful imaginary card. Oh how I fucking hate that card. I’m pretty sure that there was a FIFA directive a few years ago that anyone who waved said imaginary card should, themselves, receive a yellow card. I think it’d be more effective if Rotheram’s finest Howard Webb had been allowed to slap them round the face, but whatever.

My friend Kevin Pocock, who I respect greatly, not least for his always well-informed and thoughtful opinions on football, has suggested that both the over the top tackling of the Netherlands, and also the card-waving, roll-on-the-floor-at-the-slightest-touch shenanigans of the Spanish are both equally bad – “cheating is cheating” so his argument goes, and both should be looked down on equally. Up to a point, I agree with him; I find diving and card-waving reprehensible, and something which regularly has me screaming and swearing at my television. However, there is no way in a gazillion years that anyone could argue that they are equally wrong. Yes diving is frustrating, but it does not end careers. Its a simple as that.

Mark van Bommel is one of the worst offenders I have seen for that sort of tackle – for those who missed it, check out this wonderful tackle against Uruguay in the semi-final. Are you telling me that that should be equally looked down upon as Andres Iniesta waving a card around trying to get another player booked? OK, how about Dennis Aogo’s foul in the third place play-off match, also against Uruguay. Those are the sort or tackles which can change the recipients’ lives, end their careers. Those simply CANNOT be equated with the waving of an imaginary card. Diving is cheating, and needs to be more firmly dealt with by the footballing authorities. Of that there can be no question, but at times the physicality of the Dutch was bordering on assault.

Where I DO most definitely agree with my esteemed colleague Mr Pocock is on the matter of the BBC’s horrifically hypocritical coverage. At the final whistle, the BBC’s pundits, especially Alan Hansen, were full of praise for Spain, decrying the over-the-top aggression of the Dutch and claiming that it was “a victory for football”. The Spanish matadors had tamed the raging Dutch bull, and had waltzed away with a majestic victory.

Hang on though, aren’t these the same pundits who so vociferously came out in defence of Ryan Shawcross following his horrific tackle on Aaron Ramsey last season, which saw the young welshman suffer a double leg-break? It seems to me that the message is that against Arsenal, in the Premier League, that kind of foul play is OK. After all, the Arsenal “don’t like it up ‘em”. If its committed against the artisans of Spain however, by a foreign side, its thuggery, pure and simple, and Spain’s victory means that the brutish Dutch have been sent packing by La Roja’s footballing justice.

To those pundits I would like to direct a resounding FUCK OFF. The Dutch tactics were horrible, but worse than Stoke/Bolton/any other supposedly “inferior” team who go out to kick Arsenal players up in the air every week? Of course not. Thuggery is thuggery, regardless of whether its committed against Andres Iniesta or against Aaron Ramsey, and to see Alan Hansen of all people decrying the Dutch tactics, after he has so many times sat on the Match of the Day sofa and legitimised those self-same tactics when used in the league, was sickening. Hopefully someone will play back those words to him next time he tries to make out that the man responsible for a promising young Arsenal player’s career hanging in the balance is “not that sort of player”, or that it “wasn’t malicious”.

So overall, I’d like to think that the better team won. True, Spain were not the whiter than white champions of the pure, artistic integrity of football that they were made out to be by the BBC, but I’d take their infuriating rolling around and waving of imaginary cards over the sickening “no malicious intent, but if it happens to break his leg then so be it” physicality some of the Dutch players displayed tonight any day of the week.

Balls. No Liberal breakthrough, Cameron closing in on Number 10, and to top it all, I stayed up till gone 4 just to find out my constituency had swung decisively (10.9%!) to the Tories. Work today is proving difficult. I’ll try and write a more coherent and incisive post over the weekend sometime. If I can see by then.

I know I’m a touch late with my New Year’s resolutions, but its not something to be rushed. Last year I didn’t make any at all, and although 2009 turned out to be rather spiffing (I managed to give up smoking, get a new job, snare an absolutely wondrous new girlfriend, enjoy perhaps the finest summer I have ever had, lose weight and open up the prospect of all kinds of new opportunities and possibilities for 2010 and beyond), I am nevertheless making some this year. 2010 is to be a year of slight tweaks, rather than wholesale lifestyle changes, cos to be honest I’m pretty happy with where I am at the moment.

Therefore, I am now resolved to A) update my blog a bit more frequently. Once every 2 months is frankly rubbish, and I just know that you’re all dying to read more of my drivel.

2) Take more photographs. I’m not going to tie myself into a stupid project 365-esque “photo a day” type thing (I tried it before and managed to last an entire day, as the lone photograph in the “365″ set on my flickr page wil testify) but I intend to be a touch more prolific than I have been recently. If I don’t post at least 5 new photos a week to my Deviantart/Flickr pages then you all have my permission to chastise me. Or whatever you feel is appropriate. I don’t know, use your imaginations.

Anyway, in celebration of these life-altering new goals, I am going to go and sleep now. I think that shows just how serious I am.