My World Cup

What a tournament. The football was attacking, brave, intense and full of goals. Records were broken; the hosts were obliterated in one of the most remarkable games I have ever seen; Costa Rica and Algeria stole the hearts of many; and England failed yet again. On a personal level, I went to seven games, saw 17 goals and England twice. The experience of being here has been completely different to what it is like at home, as you would imagine. Words like atmosphere, mood, vibe (for those of you so inclined) get thrown around and yet they don't do much to really explain what it's like. Your life becomes part of the tournament; you are exposed to so much talk about it; so many adverts, signs and fans from all over the world. In an attempt to explain my personal excitement and a little bit of what the mood was like here, below are my favourite world cup goals.

Neymar vs. Croatia (Brazil 1-1 Croatia)

My seat for the World Cup's opening game was at the Fan Fest in Salvador. I remember being dangerously excited. The moment my life had been leading up to for 3 years had finally arrived; the World Cup had started. And yet my party with thousands of Brazilians was put on hold when Marcelo turned Ivica Olic cross into his own net. Croatia winning was something no one outside of Zagreb had really contemplated, and certainly no Brazilians. Fortunately, Neymar restored parity with a scuffed shot that squeezed its way into the bottom corner. Everyone went mental, it was marvellous.

Sturridge vs. Italy (England 1-1 Italy)

England's first goal of the tournament, when hopes were high and life worth living. After starting brightly, but going a goal down, Rooney whipped a great ball across the box and Sturridge was there to apply the finish. Cue the dancing. I was watching the game with an Italian friend in a small town called Lencois, 6 hours away from Salvador. My jumping and squeals were arguably a little over the top for the small bar, especially when my friend had done little more than clench his fist in celebrating Italy's goal. My punishment for this was a broken flip-flop; my second pair of havianas to have fallen before their time. Serious Rio problems.

Rooney vs. Uruguay (England 1-1 Uruguay)

As I'm English, it was always likely that there would be a couple of England goals on this list. The embarrassing thing is that there were literally only a couple for me to celebrate. I saw our second and final goal of the tournament in the stadium in São Paulo. Still struggling to come to terms with the fact that we were losing again, but not yet fearing the worst, this goal was a mixture of ecstasy and relief. Glen Johnson's only useful contribution presented Rooney with a chance that even he, in his World Cup goal drought form, could not miss. It was sheer mayhem. I was up on the seats roaring at the top of my lungs, casting my eyes over a beer-stained scene, strewn with the hopes of deflated Uruguayans. Alas, we lost just a few minutes later, but I am glad that I got to have my moment of delight at an England game.

Varela vs. USA (Portugal 2-2 USA)

My love for Cristiano Ronaldo is borderline dangerous. No matter what people say, I think he's just fantastic. Any complaints you might have, I can see past them for the simple reason that he is a phenomenal footballer. His talent, development and bravado with the ball make him the world's best player in my opinion. As for the arrogance? Believe the hype, he is as good as he says. A disappointing tournament for him ended prematurely. He received a lot of criticism during games, but I stood by him. His outstanding cross for Portugal's 95th minute equaliser left me screaming and jumping up and down in Rio's Fan Fest, surrounded by Americans, but more importantly, with my Portuguese flatmate. We did not hold back, and although the Portuguese didn't make it through, it was lovely to keep the yanks quiet for a while...

James vs. Uruguay (Colombia 1-0 Uruguay) 

This was the goal of the tournament and I was high up in the Maracanã to see it. Surrounded by Colombians, understandably going bonkers, I must have uttered the phrase ‘what a goal’ about 20 times in the immediate aftermath. It was as if the ball hitting his chest was a trigger to start his body in motion, twisting and turning to allow his left foot to come up and volley a spectacular goal in off the underside of the crossbar. It was footballing poetry; it was marvellous.

The quarter finals onward were a bit of a disappointment if truth be told, in terms of the quality of football. But of course, Brazil’s 7-1 humiliation really was something to behold. Watching it with distraught Brazilians on the beach was certainly an experience: the shock on everyone’s faces will stay with me for a while. And in the end Germany won. Clinical, efficient, ruthless Germany did the job that they’ve been threatening to do for the last 15 years. We should have seen it coming to be honest.