Jack Bell reports on the outcome of a misguided offer to FIFA

Earlier this year a website called footofgod.com closed down. Hardly a unique oc­currence, but this one did not die through the reckless ambition of its creators or for any lack of demand for its ser­­vices. Instead it was kicked in the teeth by the football gods – FI­FA. Like many websites, footofgod.com was a labour of love, not profit. This ardour be­longs to Kadima Lonji, a 29-year-old native of Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) work­ing in New York as director of web development for a major US department store chain.

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Ken Gall argues that the demise of the home internationals left Scotland chasing irrelevant targets such as the World Cup

With Björn Borg-style skinny-fit tracksuits and Go­la trainers in the shops, and Planet of the Apes set to be the summer’s hit movie, surely all we need to complete a nostalgia-fest for jaded thirty-somethings is the return of the home internationals. For Scots fans of that age, the memories linger: Brian Moore in the commentary box with Sir Alf; male relatives drinking cans of beer in the afternoon around the television; the Hampden roar; the offensive chants about Jimmy Hill.

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Only Senegal prevented the reappearance of the same five African teams who made it to the World Cup in 1998. James Copnall reports on an exuberant upset

Successive wins against Morocco and Namibia pro­pelled Senegal to the World Cup for the first time ever, and launched hundreds of thousands of Sen­e­galese into the capital Dakar’s dusty streets for a party that lasted all night and long into the next day. A last-gasp 5-0 victory over the feeble Namibians, coupled with Egypt’s 1-1 draw away to Algeria, sealed the tightest of World Cup groups in favour of the “Lions of the Teranga”, who can now start planning their excursion to Japan and South Korea.

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Ken Sproat went abroad for his holiday, but all he found was a thousand lousy replica shirts and the noise of inane Premiership chatter rining in his ears

Suitcase packed, passport and money checked a dozen times, now it’s time to think of the other hol­iday calculation – who to avoid. Some choices are straightforward – there’s the bloke who looks like Hitler, or the man who reads computer magazines, his swimming trunks almost in rubbing proximity with his thick grey socks. Plus work col­leagues and anyone who might be Rodney Marsh or Eric Hall.

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Gillingham have enjoyed a huge transformation since 1992. But getting out of the Football League is almost certainly beyond the limit of their resources, says Haydn Parry

If you had told me a decade ago that Gillingham would finish the 2000-01 season in a comfortable mid-table berth in the First Division, I wouldn’t have be­lieved you – or I would have thought you meant the first division of the Kent League. The past decade has been a golden age for the Gills. After a century of scraping about in the lower divisions (and worse), we’ve pack-ed most of the remarkable moments in the club’s his- tory into ten years. Yet we’re not so intoxicated by our own success that we fail to recognise what is now prob­ably an unbreachable financial gap to the Prem­iership.

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