I KNOW you're going to end up hating me eventually, so I might as well get it over and done with now.

A week on Tuesday, I fly out to South Africa to cover the World Cup finals for the majority of the papers in the Newsquest group.

In the last few weeks, I've discovered this piece of information is sufficient to make otherwise level-headed people fly off into fits of rage.

There's a bit of concern there as well, but we'll come back to that later. For the time being, let's focus on how much hatred a sports writer can generate.

To be honest, I expected it from my mates. They think my job's a walk in the park at the best of times, so free access to all three England group games was always likely to tip them over the edge. Unsurprisingly, the Emails havent exactly been complimentary in the last fortnight or so.

I also anticipated a bit of flak from the wife. She's just about got used to the weekend football trips to London and the 'work' that's entailed in a four-day jaunt to The Open, but South Africa is proving to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Perhaps the sudden appearance of the Lonely Planet guide to Cape Town on the coffee table, while I was still claiming 'There's absolutely no way work will be sending me over there', was not the best way of breaking the news.

But it's been the reaction from relative strangers that's taken me aback.

For a start, I can't get served in my local. People turn their back when I walk up to the bar, and I swear the men's darts team become dangerously erratic whenever I walk near the board.

I had to have a swine flu jab ten days ago - the disease is still rife in South Africa - and after I explained why I was travelling, I'm convinced the nurse went looking for a bigger needle.

And when a group of schoolchildren were being shown around the Echo offices last week, sympathy was absent when one of the cheeky little blighters described my trip as a holiday at the top of his voice.

It won't be a holiday...even though the best alternative I can come up with at the moment is a working vacation.

To be honest, that's one of the hardest things about being a sports journalist - trying to make your work sound arduous.

I could bang on forever about the pressure of meeting deadlines, the difficulty of spending days on end on my own or the workload that will accompany working for a dozen or so papers in our group.

Ultimately, it's not going to count for anything when set alongside my press pass for England vs United States.

In fairness, there has been the odd dissenting voice. "You want to make sure you don't end up getting shot," has been just about the only line of conversation that hasn't contained an expletive.

I'd be lying if I claimed the security situation in South Africa hadn't alarmed me - if anyone else is heading out next month, I'd strongly recommend you avoid the 'Security briefing' section on the CIA website if you also want to avoid nightmares - and my fears were hardly assuaged when The Daily Mirror's North-East man returned from his paper's pre-World Cup briefing with details of how to spot a roadside bomb.

But for every website or travel book proclaiming impending doom, there's another insisting things will be fine provided you apply a dollop of common sense.

My plan is to treat the whole thing as a great adventure, and attempt to ensure that my reports, features, diary and regular online and Twitter updates help to add something to your enjoyment of the tournament.

And while it's not a holiday, perhaps the editor needs to accept from an early stage that the odd Castle Lager will be necessary if my colour pieces are to reflect the full experience of being at a World Cup.

**

They might inhabit opposite ends of the footballing spectrum, but it was fitting that Ian Holloway and Jose Mourinho enjoyed arguably their finest moment within hours of each other on Saturday night.

The media likes to portray both as slightly unhinged eccentrics, but the description can sometimes overshadow achievements that are nothing short of extraordinary.

Blackpool were joint-favourites for relegation last August, yet they will start next season in the Premier League after their thrilling play-off win over Cardiff.

Holloway's tactics have been integral to their success, with Blackpool's three-man forward line established as one of the most potent attacking units in the Championship.

For all that he regularly mocks himself in interviews, Holloway clearly possesses a razor sharp mind and his man management skills have transformed a group of journeymen Football League players into a squad preparing to play in the Premier League next season.

Mourinho's qualities have been obvious for a while now, but that should not detract from the enormity of what he achieved on Saturday night.

Italian football was supposed to be in a state of crisis at the start of the season, and no one gave the Special One a hope of breaking the English and Spanish stranglehold on the Champions League.

So what did he do? Outfoxed Chelsea and Barcelona before setting up his side to completely outplay Bayern Munich in the final.

Some say his safety-first style is 'anti-football', others bemoan the lack of excitement that accompanied Inter's success. I would simply point to his record and suggest he is comfortably the best European manager of the last ten years.