Brian Viner: A-Z guide to World Cup dominated by Everton talent

'At least Seaman's long hair looks clean,' she said. 'Theirs is more greasy'

With the tournament finally done and dusted, it's now time to publish the definitive A-Z of the 2002 World Cup. Definitive from where I was sitting, anyway.

A is for Argentina (see X is for Xenophobia). A is also for alliteration, the first refuge of a commentator in times of excitement. "Spontaneous skill still stirs the soul,'' said the BBC's John Motson, after yesterday's final, but my favourite was Peter Drury's reference to "the people of this partying peninsula'' during ITV's coverage of South Korea v Italy.

B is for Breakfast. There are other B-word contenders, but Motty didn't get half so excited about Brazil as he did about the fact that mid-afternoon in the Far East is breakfast time in Britain. Where would we have been without Motty's reminder that it was time to eat our cereal, put the eggs on, boil the kettle, wash the dishes etc?

C is for Cafu, the Brazilian captain often derided by his compatriots, yet who yesterday became the first man to play in three World Cup finals.

D is for Davies, Barry, as determinedly lyrical as ever. "Candela, blowing in the wind for the French,'' he said during BBC coverage of France v Uruguay.

E is for Everton. There are arguably other E-words with a claim, such as England, and Eriksson, but even those who berate me for manufacturing gratuitous Everton references in this column must surely concede that it has been a marvellous tournament for the Toffees. The Everton midfield of Alexandersson and Linderoth comfortably outplayed the England midfield in the Sweden game, although the most precious moment for Evertonians came during Denmark v France. "Now Zidane,'' said ITV's Jon Champion, "easily outstripped by Gravesen.''

F is for Frisk. Everyone bangs on about Pierluigi Collina, but Mr Frisk, the only referee to have won the Grand National, is another of the few officials to emerge from the tournament with credit, notably for having the balls to give a last-minute penalty for Ireland against Spain for the oft-overlooked crime of shirt-pulling.

G is for Germany. Five-One in Munich. What did it all mean?

H is for Henman. As he watched England lose to Brazil, one wonders whether he felt the transferred burden of a nation's hopes?

I is for Ignorance, still the prevailing American response to football. The website report on Mexico v USA read out by a delighted Gary Lineker – "Eddie Lewis makes a cross-pitch play from left-zone'' – turned out to be a spoof. But an American reporter's interview with goalkeeper Brad Friedel was real. "Brad, you came up huge on that penalty-kick,'' she enthused.

J is for Jay-Jay Okocha, the thrilling Nigerian bound for, er, Bolton.

K is for Keane. And all credit to Robbie that he snatched most of the attention from Roy.

L is for Lineker, who despite now and again getting it wrong, e.g. a laboured gag yesterday about Pele liking Rs more than Butt, acquitted himself superbly, and has now become almost as good a football presenter as he once was a footballer.

M is for Mick McCarthy, a nice man, who eventually got what he deserved.

N is for Nonsense. Despite strong competition, the BBC's self-styled wordsmith Garth Crooks emerged as chief purveyor of gobbledegook. My favourite, shortly before England v Argentina in Saitama's indoor arena: "With the air-conditioning on, perhaps for England revenge is a dish best served cold."

O is for Ole, an Argentinian daily newspaper, which, following England's Group F win, slightly intemperately ran the banner headline "**** you'' over a picture of David Beckham. Without the asterisks.

P is for Pele, whose pronouncements at World Cups are awaited and seized upon like the Pope's Easter message in St Peter's Square. Not that His Holiness has ever pontificated about the excellence of Nicky Butt. Or has he?

Q is for Querulousness, which infected the BBC panel whenever Martin O'Neill took part. The guy could start a barney in an empty room.

R is for Ronaldo, winner of the coveted Golden Boot, whose rebirth, following his troubles in France '98 and subsequent injury nightmares, was the most engaging story of this World Cup.

S is for Simulation, the tournament's most despicable practice, its arch-exponent Ronaldo's team-mate, Rivaldo.

T is for Trapattoni, the Italian manager, lucky that his fist was stopped by a window during his furious rant at the fourth official, during Italy's elimination by South Korea.

U is for Ulrika, who, with the World Cup over, Sven home again, and the newspaper silly season about to start, can look forward to reading all her favourite tabloids. U is also for USA. With the Americans outlasting Argentina, France, Portugal and Italy in the World Cup, but more Brits than Americans in the second week of the men's singles at Wimbledon, we should start preparing for July blizzards and birds flying backwards. Something's definitely amiss.

V is for Vieira. "We have a remarkable team with fantastic players in every position,'' he said of the France team, anticipating another World Cup winner's medal just before defeat by Senegal.

W is for World-class. ITV's Ron Atkinson likes to use this expression, perhaps a bit too much, but as a co-commentator he too is world-class. To illustrate this I can do no better than repeat the Big Ronism already praised by my colleague Chris Maume. "Ron, I didn't know your wife was Brazilian,'' quipped Clive Tyldesley, as the camera alighted on a gorgeous female percussionist wearing a Brazil shirt. "I didn't know she played the drums,'' returned Ron, on the volley.

X is for Xenophobia. Of which many of us have been guilty of this World Cup, especially on the day England beat Argentina. My sister-in-law Jackie contributed my favourite line. "At least Seaman's long hair looks clean,'' she said. "Theirs is more greasy.''

Y is for Yobo, the Nigerian who represents all those players with "funny'' names. Disappointingly, there seemed to be a politically correct edict at both ITV and the BBC discouraging those such as Terry Venables who usually enjoy poking fun at odd foreign names.

Z is for Zlatko Zahovic of Slovakia, who raged at his manager, Srecko Katanec, "I can buy you, your house and your family. You were a dickhead player and you're the same as a coach.'' Mick McCarthy is at least in good company.

b.viner@independent.co.uk