Dear World Cup - I'll miss you

Dear World Cup

I know that you're leaving me, that it's over, and that there's nothing I can do about it, but I'm afraid there are some things that can't be left unsaid.

You seem to think you can just swan into my life, seduce me and then disappear four weeks later.

You say that it's you and not me. That you'll be back, but I have to wait four years. Four years! What cruelty.

Of course we had our problems. Uruguay were revolting cheats and England were denied a fantastic goal which could have changed everything.

But we got through them together. Uruguay were knocked out in the next round and new technology looks likely to be introduced in the future.

Then there was the lack of goals and that brutal final lacking the finesse we ached to see.

But goals aren't everything in football, and for all the thuggishness between Spain and the Netherlands, the right team won in the end.

There was nothing we couldn't get through together.

And what about the good times? Remember when France collapsed and were sent home flying economy class "in disgrace". How we laughed (though by that standard I too flew home "in disgrace").

And what about the world champions Italy? They didn't manage to win a game and when the minnows of New Zealand grabbed a point we celebrated with dinner and a few too many red wines.

Sometimes you were so beautiful I wanted to marry you right there and then. Like that Dutch goal in the semi-final, or like Germany's dismantling of Argentina.

And you taught me things. How teamwork could prove so much stronger than individual brilliance, for example. We waved goodbye to Rooney, Ronaldo and Messi and opened our arms to Nelsen, Muller and Xavi.

Yet you want to forget all this and move on?

And you expect me to be waiting? Well I can't promise anything. There are plenty more fish in the sea. You're not the only tournament in the world, you know? The English Premier League has been making eyes at me and promising to get in touch mid-August.

The European Championships are flirtatiously visiting in two years.

But the worst thing of all? You know you're the only one for me and I'll wait patiently until you come back. See you in four years.

Yours

Stuart