Paul The Octopus: The True Star Of South Africa

As it turns out, Howard Webb is not the only Englishman who still has the opportunity to disappoint in the World Cup. While his overwhelming confidence in the success German national side might suggest an allegiance to all things not English, as well as a blotted cultural memory of what they did to the Chippie and all that, there is still no denying that Paul the Octopus was in fact born sunny Weymouth. Had he been so inclined, Paul the Octopus could have played in goal for England, what with his eight arms and countless suckers that could surely have held onto a ball better than Green did.

Anyway, unless you’ve been living under a rock for the last month (no offence, Paul, I’m sure you live under the nicest rock in the aquarium) then you are aware that the Germans have been employing a seemingly psychic cephalopod to predict the outcome of their national team’s world cup fixtures. Paul the Octopus’ record throughout this competition has been remarkable to say the least; successfully picking the inevitable victor between two mussels with the opposing nations flags painted on their shells with 100% accuracy. Nevermind the goalscoring heroics of David Villa, or Wesley Sniejder’s magic touch game after game, the Fifa 2010 World Cup in South Africa will no doubt be remembered as Paul the Octopus’ tournament.

Paul’s career hasn’t always looked so bright however. Just two years ago Paul stood at the brink of predicting victory with a young German side in the European Championship Final, only to have his dreams scuttled by Fernando Torres. Paul was held as a scapegoat for Germany’s defeat in the final, and even had his life threatened by disconsolate fans. Oliver Walenciak, Paul’s agent, has stated “there are always people who want to eat our octopus but he is not shy and we are here to protect him as well. He will survive.” Adding that Paul’s performance against the Spaniards in the final was a sign of a lack of maturity, and that in the future Paul would deliver.

And deliver he did.

Less than two years after his heartbreaking loss at the hands of the Spanish, Paul was presented with the opportunity for redemption against his old foes, this time in the semi-final. On the back of five correct predictions out of his past five caps, Paul showed the maturity of a much older Octopus and correctly picked the Spanish themed mussel for the win.

In a World Cup typically fraught with trigger happy referees, disdainful orchestras of Vuvuzela’s, a ball that’s harder to control than the Gulf oil spill, and players hitting the deck at the drop of a hat, Paul the Octopus has been the one shining light of this otherwise disappointing and forgettable tournament. Granted you can point to David Villa’s goal tally, which is no doubt impressive, but it doesn’t take a Psychic Octopus to tell you that David Villa is probably going to put one or two in the back of the net. The only surprises of this tournament have been the series of complete and utter lackluster performances by the world’s elite players. Rooney, Torres, Drogba, Ronaldo, Messi, Any Italian, Any Frenchman… none of them have done anything truly extraordinary, in fact, most of them would consider “below average” to be a compliment. Not to mention that this clairvoyant invertebrate would no doubt provide more insightful commentary than the likes of Lineker, Lawless and co.

So in the event that the World Cup final is no more an exhibition of great football than it is a sideshow of Dutch wingers (and all other positions for that matter) rolling around in agony if Puyol’s curly locks flutter too close by, or of Puyol escaping censure when he actually gives the Dutch something to cry about, I suggest that we take measures into our own hands to ensure that the final is fairly and accurately refereed, and that it is entertaining. I’m not talking about using goal-line technology or adding an extra official to lurk behind each goal to examine if a ball has crossed the line (in this world cup that is a job as stimulating and busy as being a parking attendant on the Moon). None of this. What we need to do is take Paul the Octopus and have Howard Webb wear him like a toupe atop that bald dome of his. All we need to do is get a number of clams or mussels, or whatever the hell it is that Octopi  actually eat with certain decisions painted on them. Goal, or no Goal. Red card, yellow card, stern warning etc. Did Robben just dive or did Pique just sharpen his studs along his spine? Let Paul decide.

I for one would enjoy the final a great deal more if Paul the Psychic Octopus took his well earned place as a Fifth Of-FISH-al. Sorry, that was lame.