Don't tell me the World Cup is nearly over, I'm not ready for tonight yet. What did I do with my life, without live matches, highlights, podcasts, the text updates, just three weeks ago? Oh, woe.

An overdose of football is like going on a long holiday: you're cut off from whatever else is happening. Yes, you know vaguely that there's been a story about a Russian spy married to a guy with a bad hair day; and that in Malta, our President had an aide with the most, erm, unusual name, since the era of the Vikings (Olaf Terribile, in case you missed it). But that's just about it.

If you dissect my brain, you'll find it looks pretty much like a bouncy Jabulani ball. Umberto Eco in his essay 'How not to talk about football', says: "I don't like the football fan because he has a strange defect; he cannot understand why you are not a fan yourself, and he insists on talking to you as if you were." Well that's me, alright.

And I am going to insist and make you stop and ponder on all the lessons we've learnt from this World Cup:

A lesson in Latin:
David Beckham's obscure role in this World Cup was made clear when he rolled up his sleeves before the England vs Slovenia game: to give us a Latin lesson.

Here are the tricky posh expressions he's got tattooed on his forearms: 'Ut Amem et Foveam' - 'That I may love and cherish' on his right, and 'Perfectio in Spiritu' - 'Perfection in Spirit' on his left.

A lesson in teamwork:
Germany and Netherlands. No stars, no glitter. Forget the culture of individualism - in life it's good old teamwork which paves the way to the most pleasant kind of successes.

A lesson in having fun:
Football should be all about fun, of course. But looking at most players, you'd seriously doubt that: we're in it for the bling, the money and for our mates' girlfriends, they all seemed to be sneering. Except Ghana, the team that showed the world that humility, smiles and good vibes steal everyone's hearts.

A lesson in punishment:
As in, punishment doesn't always fit the crime. Uruguay's handball denied Ghana a last-minute goal. Uruguay's punishment was a red card and a penalty which the unlucky Ghana failed. And Uruguay shamefully shot to the semis. That's the unfairness of life: cheats are winners.

A lesson in manners:
You do not spit at the camera (Cristiano Ronaldo). You do not snarl at the fans (Wayne Rooney). You don't bully-push your colleagues off their seats (Fabio Capello).

A lesson in cuteness:
Who wins the cup for being the cute-but-clever, sexy-but-not-cocky Footballer of All Times Ever? After much deliberation it has to go to - Swoon! - Spain's Xabi Alonso. He's truly - Simper! - a prince charming.

A lesson in growing old:
Last World Cup, I was the average age of most players. This time, I was right there with the veterans who don't always make it (think Gary Neville, bless him). I think I'd better start fancying the coaches.

A lesson in drama:
Rolling about, ooofaying and playing dead doesn't get you anywhere in life (Argentina and Italy).

A lesson in boredom:
Life is made up of ups and downs - playing midfield all your life will bore your senses out. Keep a DVD of England vs Algeria handy should you ever doubt this.

A lesson in superstition:
Superstition doesn't get you anywhere. Cue Diego Maradona with his rosary bangle and Capello with his insistence on his team wearing red (the idea was to camouflage the German blood spilt when England thrashed the Germans on the battlefield, erm).

A lesson in how to plan a revolution:
All footballers aspiring to revolt, such as John Terry, should at the very least take to reading Machiavelli's The Prince when bored on training camp. There is an important line about not telling the enemy you are coming.

A lesson in wine:
A South African winemaker Roberto Bottega, who has come up with different blends of wine to reflect World Cup teams, said the England blend was a classy Bordeaux: "They are supposed to be good but sometimes can be boring".

A lesson in hope:
I won't give up on them. In 2014 I will still be supporting England. Unless, of course, Malta makes it through the qualifiers. Indeed, hope is the last thing to die.

A lesson in falling in love with someone when you don't even know what he looks like:

Surely, the wittiest and funniest of sports journalists on the planet is Scott Murray. Any chance of getting The Guardian to loan him to our The Sunday Times?

krischetcuti@gmail.com