As my dear old mom always said: "Sometimes you just have to count your blessings." Tuesday wasn't the best day to be an England fan but it was a great day to sit on the front porch at home watching Euro 2012 qualifying games on the laptop.

There was a time when I first moved to the U.S. that I had to perch precariously atop a chair in my kitchen (without breathing, let alone moving), shortwave radio held aloft a la Lady Liberty's glorious lamp to just about catch the football results being transmitted from the BBC World Service through a cavalcade of crackling. Not anymore.

If, as it seems lately, Al Gore invented the Internet for the purpose of shameless promotion, then please indulge me in a shout-out for ESPN3.com. I admit to the obvious conflict of interest -- in their infinite wisdom the Barons of Bristol have paid me to work for them on occasion -- but if you are a football fan then "Terrific Tuesdays" -- Euro qualies have moved to a Friday-Tuesday rotation -- are not to be missed.

First up was Kazakhstan. Borat was nowhere to be seen, but Lukas Podolski was everywhere. Along with blatant plugs, the Internet is the place for bold statements. So here goes: Germany will win Euro 2012. Not exactly going out on a limb to predict German football domination, but after watching last week's home win over Turkey and the dismantling of the hard-working Kazaks, it's clear that Jogi Loew's young guns are too fast, too powerful, too smart and rapidly becoming too clinical in front of goal for the rest of the Euro field, however it shapes up in Poland and Ukraine.

For the Kazaks, this game was their version of college basketball's "midnight madness." The game was played in the middle of the night local time, presumably to accommodate prime-time German television, which made me wonder: How could Kazakhstan actually be in Europe?

Flipping (not sure if you flip on a laptop, but bear with me) from Astana to Glasgow I was soon wondering: How could an Englishman be playing for Scotland? Good luck to Phil Bardsley, but note to Craig Levein: Forget Jack Charlton's Irish glory days, the way to go in football is Brazilian imports, and I'm not talking Alan Brazil.

After David Villa's record-breaking goal it was a quick stop in Metz to see if France would implode against lowly Luxembourg, but no such luck. Laurent Blanc is an actual manager, and that doesn't bode well for lovers of French football follies like myself.

I was all set for a tight Netherlands-Sweden encounter, but Klaas-Jan Huntelaar had scored in the fourth minute, and the route was on by the time I got to Amsterdam. So I moved over to Slovakia, where Irish eyes were not smiling after Robbie Keane's penalty-kick miss. Group B is shaping up as the "Group of Death," so more Terrific Tuesdays ahead here.