Key events
“That ITV studio is spectacular,” reckons Kev the Poet. “Almost as spectacular as the nark-off between Roy Keane and anyone else. The BBC is going to have The Ghost Of Barry Davies coming out of the Manchester Ship Canal to compete.”
It is – it’s outdoors on the Hudson, with a sensational view of Manhattan. But I’d take Barry Davies coming out of anywhere.
And the correct answer is!
I almost got away with playing this at my wedding.
“Here in the States, the pre-game crew includes, as ever, Alexi Lalas, but also has a new addition of Zlatan for this tournament,” advises Mac Scarles. “If the approximately 10 seconds of interaction I just saw is any indication, the odds are high that Zlatan just might kill Lalas with his bare hands before the tournament is over. A chemistry void for the ages. It’s going to be a fun six weeks.”
Goodness, I’m not sure it’s possible to understand football culture, spirit and soul less than Lalas does. Godspeed, Zlats old mate.
Aaaaand the first email of the competition goes too … Justin Kavanagh. “Football used to be seen as the opiate of the masses, with many stories from previous World Cups of ceasefires declared to watch games, birthrates soaring 9 months after victories … etc. However, this one feels more like a methadone clinic, with thin rations stretched out over a longer time frame, and with the dealer going uptown where he’ll find wealthier marks. Sure we’ll all watch on TV because we love the game. But more and more people who actually once participated in the game at any level are coming to the realisation that Fifa’s product is poisoned by politics and by greed, and Infantino and co have shut the gates on us.”
It takes a lot to make Sepp Blatter look like the arch liberator, doesn’t it? I wish I had something pithily amusing and reassuring to say here, but I don’t; we just have to do our best to oppose wrongness in our immediate spheres of influence.
Almost straight off the bat, ITV go to the politics – “Things that always litter a pre-tournament buildup,” says Neville. Er, do they? He goes on to say the football will take over, but Ian Wright, Roy Keane and Mark Pougatch make sure to stipulate we mustn’t let it obscure the continuing issues.
Gosh, the first montage of the tournament, of tournaments past, has me quite emotional – there’s a lot to take in, and that’s before I get going on Gary Neville’s shirt, straight off the peg from River Island c.1995.
It’s time for ITV’s credits and, if you’ve not seen them, they’re beautiful, shot on film and lush as you like.
Yes!
Quiz time: name that tune!
Ahhhh! Ding! Ding ding ding ding! Neow! Ding ding ding ding! Ta bam bam bam bam bam bam!
De ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne. De ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne. De ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne, ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne!
Preamble
What a feeling! Thirty-nine days, 104 matches, and the greatest joy known to humankind, an affirming, inspiring, immersive, absorbing, challenging, compelling, enriching, educational orgy of glorious, wondrous, beauteous football. Drink it in, people!
Just be careful you don’t choke. Because though we thought that, after Russia and Qatar, World Cups – or should that be Worlds Cup, we deal with all the important issues here – couldn’t get any more problematic, here we are.
The awfulness is too extensive to enumerate in this preamble but, before football happens and narcotises us into compliance, we must pay our debt to pleasure – ideally not simply by grousing, but perhaps by doing something small to combat the forces that co-opt us and our incomparable game. Being kind and tolerant, perhaps, or donating to a charity that supports migrants or refugees – our options are numerous.
Quite how we segue from here back to the sport isn’t totally clear, but such are the complexities of life, the game a victim of its own genius, simply too amazing and uniting not to be exploited by bad actors, corporate voids and invertebrate suits. So let’s dig into that; seamless, eh?
We’ll begin of course, with the spectacle and snark of our first opening ceremony – each host country is staging one – with those of us old enough to remember 1970 and 1986 forgiven for convulsing into tears at the mere sight of Estadio Azteca. In which connection, it’s worth remembering that for millions of children around the world, this is their debut tournament; the first time they’ve experienced the joy of a football onslaught. And, while those of us who are well beyond that will never recapture our personal moment, staying up late and sneaking snide watches, the sense of wonder is something we understand better now, as adults, than in the moment as kids.
A lot’s happened to us since then, the weight of the years narrowing eyes and dulling senses. But if we take a moment with ourselves, we’re there, the sense of wonder perpetually part of us and perennially there for us. These are the days of our lives, and this is the vibe we can bring to it – and everything else – if we allow ourselves to.
On to our opening match and it’s a belter, two teams looking to attack but in different ways: Mexico by controlling the centre of the pitch and South Africa with thrust down the flanks. Look out for Gilberto Mora, the hosts’ 17-year-old midfielder – he’s the youngest player in the tournament and a serious talent – but really, look out for absolutely everything. It’s here!
Opening ceremony: 11.30am local, 1,30pm EDT, 6.30pm BST, 3.30am (Fri) AEST
Kick-off: 1pm local, 3pm EDT, 8pm BST, 5am (Fri) AEST
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