It was the stand-out moment of the World Cup bar none – and had nothing at all to do with the tournament.

Mark Lawrenson’s feature on the Relief of Mafeking was five minutes of well-researched and thought-provoking television. It was a fascinating insight into the most dramatic episode of the Boer War.

Sadly, nothing on the pitch over the past month came close to matching it. South Africa may have provided the most colourful backdrop but as a spectacle, the football was worse than dire.

For the last four weeks, a global TV audience has been inflicted with the Bore War. Fittingly, we got the appropriate final – an occasion that failed dismally to come close to anything we had hoped for.

Like so much before it, the so-called showpiece in Soccer City was a mirage; a feast of football that never existed. It was a disgrace of a contest but at least the right team won. And there can be no denying that the Spanish are the best side of the modern era.

Thankfully, the Dutch were kicked into touch – which, criminally, seemed to be the game-plan dreamt up by blustering boss Bert Van Marwyk. And then he had the cheek to take a pop at Howard Webb’s refereeing.

It did not need a psychic octopus to see that Spain were worthy winners and goal-scorer Andres Iniesta their quality heart-beat. But the fact that they lifted the biggest prize in sport with four successive 1-0 victories told the story. And that a team as average as Holland should be held up as deserved finalists further illustrates the ordinary fare that has been served up.

The host nation had done everything asked of them and more. Scare stories about mass muggings and crime sprees have proved just that. The South African public can be proud of the colour and enthusiasm they injected into the show. Unfortunately it’s only the football that matters.

No amount of smiling faces and upbeat locals can gloss over the sheer lack of thrills and spills where it counted. There were too many stalemates; too many teams trying their best to negate the opposition instead of taking the attack to them.

The tournament was tailor-made for spoilers and those who revel in breaking up play. Henchman extraordinaire Mark Van Bommel had a field day.

The beach-ball qualities of the dreaded Jabulani made it a devil to control for even the most skilled operators. The wintry temperature meant the enforcers could run and run without fear of running empty. Stifling the life out of the game was never easier.

But defensive midfielders are never going to be sexy. Getting the job done with no frills won’t keep viewers on the edge of their seats – I lost count of the number of games that saw me nodding off before half-time.

There were welcome exceptions such as the excellent Germans, though they too prospered most on the counter-attack. The likes of Chile, Mexico and Uruguay offered exciting glimpses but, all too often, a blanket defence smothered their intentions.

And don’t even go there about vuvuzelas… There are lessons that FIFA must learn, the most important being a promise to never, ever muck about with the ball. Is the need to chase more and more profit a priority over maintaining the quality of the matches (don’t answer that, Mr Blatter)?

And, harsh as it sounds, finals must be restricted to the traditional heartland of the World Cup, alternating every four years between South America and Europe.

As great as the backdrop may be, there was something just not right about the event. It was the same in America in 1994 and Asia eight years ago.

The World Cup is not a bandwagon to be rolled around the globe. It is the very pinnacle of the sport and should be treated as such.

Embracing different colour and culture makes the product but it should take place in an established football stronghold. You need the host nation among the contenders and not the also-rans.

South Africa played with passion but they still did not make it out of the group stages. They were simply not good enough, as witnessed by a one-sided whipping from Uruguay.

Let’s face it, this tournament will be best remembered for a tuneless trumpet and the match predictions of a hungry octopus.

Brazil in 2014 will be different and hopefully deliver exactly what it says on the tin. For now, there’s just a sense of relief that it’s finally all over.