So what exactly do they expect us to do?

There haven't been any games for a couple of days, and it feels like a dummy run for the endless weeks without football which are coming up all too soon. The final is next Sunday, July 13th, and the new season doesn't kick off until Friday August 8th. That's 26 days with no football, or nearly 4 endless weeks.


I say there isn't any football, but obviously this isn't literally true. The Champions League pre-pre-pre-qualifiers have already kicked off. I see from the BBC website that Gibraltar's Lincoln Red Imps earned themselves a battling 1-1 draw at home to HB Torshavn of the Faroe Islands. In theory one of these two could be contesting the final in Berlin next June, although they'll have to get past Partizan Belgrade first.

Something similar is happening for the Europa League, and the Canadian domestic league has carried on right through the World Cup. But proper football, that is proper English League football, starts on August 8th, when Cardiff travel to Rovers for the first Championship fixture of the new season.

That's Blackburn Rovers, naturally. Doncaster are in League One and Tranmere are in League Two. Bristol Rovers? I'm glad you asked, even though you didn't. I'm afraid they won't be involved in any League football this year. Their website hasn't been updated for the new Conference season yet, maybe because the chairman's taken the laptop on holiday or maybe because the reality is just too painful to type in, but at some point Forest Green will insist on getting their appointment confirmed in writing.

None of which will help us on July 14th. Even being snarky about Rovers feels kind of small beer, after the last few weeks being snarky about Suarez and Robbie Savage. Not that Savage is especially big beer, but I don't suppose he'll ever have to play Forest Green.

But before the sands of time finally trickle through the sphincter of delight and into the dustbowl of summer fun, I'd like to say something to the Americans, which is welcome to our world. It's my 52nd birthday today, as well of course as Independence Day, and their battling defeat against Belgium the other night reminded me of all the battling defeats England have put me through over the years.

My earliest football memory is from June 14 1970, 20 days before my eighth birthday. England were 2-0 up against West Germany, but went on to lose 3-2. I cried, and my Dad told me real football fans didn't cry. You can see his point of view, when he was eight he had to deal with bombs and rationing, but we live in gentler times now, and hopefully eight year old boys in Boston and Albuquerque won't have been told anything so utterly absurd.

It's not been an easy 44 years, except perhaps for the decade when I discovered acid and lost interest in football, but if I've learned anything from the experience it's that battling defeats are the best that can realistically be hoped for, and so much easier to bear than craven collapses. Looked at in this light, losing to Argentina on penalties after some dubious decisions and a Michael Owen wonder goal was actually a blessing, especially compared to the three shocking goals we gave up to Croatia in 2007 which stopped us even qualifying, or the infamous Gary Lineker substitution incident of 1992.

So enjoy your Belgian defeat, Yanks, and glory in Tim Howard's mitigating performance. Trust me, you've never had it so good.