World Cup Willie - Week 1

We let Scott have a holiday from the non-league scene as he brings us a weekly update on Infantino's little summer get together

You didn't think we were just going to ignore it did you ? Us? Not a chance.

As Week One sails into sunset like a Newcastle transfer target, we have to talk about El Mundial. The World Cup. Copa do Mundo.

You know what, we all had that sinking feeling before the first opening ceremony. No amount of Salma Hayek (without the snake, unfortunately) could suppress the indifference that people were feeling about what should be a festival of football which SHOULD bring out the child-like feelings for football of yore, before it got swallowed up and spat out in most cases.

Ticket prices at the grounds, journeys on the equivalent of our metro costing more than an average weekly shop, hydration breaks, FIFA not letting you take your own bottled water into grounds with searing heat and the list goes on. Elite referees being banned from entering because they were accused of being part of a terrorist group and fans of some countries having as much chance of getting into the country as I have of parading up a catwalk in Paris fashion week. Chances are medium, in case you are wondering.

All this, plus its rare that one of the hosts were/are (delete as appropriate at time of press) were at war with one of the countries competing. You never got that with Switzerland in 1954. You know where you are with Switzerland.

Last week (I'm not going to slag the kick off times. It's another timezone, get used to it) all of this snowballed into one big avalanche of insouciance and disinterest. I was no different. That was until they swung open the doors of the Azteca. All bets were off .

The anthems, the outrageous beauty and size of the stadium and the realisation that this football insane country had their players walk the plank. As you looked at each Mexican player lined up and ready to go, they looked ready to jump. I was engrossed.

When Mexico scored, the birds flew off the branches outside my house disturbed by the cacophony coming from Mexico City. Ok, South Africa were awful and they had one of the worst striker performances this side of last season on Tyneside from Lyle Foster, but it was a masterstroke by those gonks at FIFA to start the jamboree in Latin America.

The fact 2-0 wasn't enough and Mexico were booed periodically in the second half intrigued me more. They’ve only lost twice at home, ever, but I'm hooked on Mexico. It's going to be some car crash when it goes wrong. I might have to stop up until 3am to see it, but I will be watching, with bells on.

Canada and Bosnia melted my heart more the next night. Apart from the “Let’s go Canada” chant which creeped the life out of me, it was superb. Look at the Bosnians' faces. That was how much it meant to them. Superb stuff.

Mike Myers was there a week before he announced Austin Powers 4. That clearance off the line. The superb performance from ex Plymouth Argyle reserve Nikola Katic. I dream of playing like that in 5 a side. It was a proper stadium which looked like Boothferry Park, if it wasn't Boothferry Park, and Canada went mad at the first ever world cup point.

It left me all cleansed. The corporate stench might have been stinking the place out, but my heart was pounding.

South Korea looked decent in beating Czechia in a half empty stadium. FIFA said most people stayed in the concourse, which didn't get ridiculed whatsoever. I mean how could it?

New York was taken over by Brazilians as the Big Apple’s basketball heroes chased breaking ducks. Some Saturday night out. As it turned out, Brazil were swamped by a magnificent first 30 minutes by a Morocco side who may just be my best of the week. Shrills greeted La Seleção and Bruno got shown up. But Brazil equalised, and with the heat strangling both sides, they shook hands at half time on the draw and played a fake second half and no one noticed but me and BBC South America correspondent Tim Vickery.

Scotland won. Just. The fans have lit up Boston and you couldn't help feeling yourself go to ‘Flower of Scotland’ (I live 52 miles from the border, give me a break). McGinn’s goal deflected off 30 men but will probably see them into the next stage unless they really hit the buffers.

So far so good. USA hammered Paraguay, Miggy Almirón booked for a ridiculous dive. Some brilliant goals and the Perry/Trudeau relationship went past second base. Just as Folarun Balogun smashed in the 4th. The USA were impressive. Pochettino (with added beef and hair) looked every inch a Tony Soprano pork shop devotee. Always a plus.

Australia shocked Turkey. Turkey are always the cognoscenti’s dark horses until they actually play. This was a rinse and repeat despite a best squad in 20 years. The Aussie press celebrated the diversity of the goalscorers and how the far right would have them deported if they could. Nice.

Germany overpowered Curaçao 7-1. Curaçao were gallant and raised smiles rather than white flags, but what about Die Mannschaft’s strip? It's now national fury back home that, after forever, this is Adidas’ last Germany kit, for a while at least. Nike will take over. It seems so, so wrong.

Holland were boring as fuck for 45 minutes, before their game with Japan exploded like a firecracker. Japan looked excellent. Their fans were excellent and cleaned up as well. The acoustics of the stadium with a roof on made it intolerable, as did the orange kit on ITV’s no UHD production. More jaw dropping was the revelation that Japan had more Eredivisie players in their team than the Netherlands. The first time no home grown players made the cut for Holland was a massive sign of the times.

Sweden hammered Tunisia. Isak scored and Tunisia sacked their manager. To be fair, Lamouchi did pick five strikers and three wingers in an unbalanced squad and played none of them. To say he had it coming was bang on. I was pleased for Alexander. You were too, deep down.

On to the main event. Iran entered the group chat. Protests in the car park. Protests in the stands. Fans of the same country facing off for good and evil. The players wore pin badges with “168” on their blazers. This was the number of children massacred by a USA/Israeli air strike earlier in the year.

Within all this, a game had to be played and doesn't it light the heart that the World Cup can still do stuff like producing a very good game with Chris Wood unplayable and the star of the show Eli Just, a Motherwell player. Take that Don! New Zealand and Iran draw here, Iran shade the bigger game in the Middle East.

The new week saw the big guns deliver. You've all seen Messi’s hat trick, Haaland bounding on to the World stage just like you knew he would since he was three years old, and Kilian Mbappe waking up in the second half of France's game against Senegal to the extent that he is now France's record scorer.

Senegal were very good in the first half though and this may be one of France's biggest tests this side of the semi-finals. The no fucks given of the ref when he was shown the VAR replay of the biggest penalty of all time brought a holler of delight from this household.

Mbappe is a Paris native and one of 51 players appearing at the finals from the city. A sensational statistic.

Lukaku bounded on and immediately bulldozered Egypt into an own goal to draw the match after the Pharaohs’ sensational pressing game wilted in the Seattle heat.

England won, you've seen that. You make your own mind up. Harry Kane might have a sore shoulder carrying that team over the next month. Tuchel and the national anthem is becoming obsessive, but for ten minutes after a roasting in pidgin English at half time, England looked the real deal. Panama awaits. They lost to a Ghana sucker punch.

Panama, Ecuador, who suffered more late agony and Colombia, who beat dirty debutantes Uzbekistan 3-1, rivalled Brazil for sheer support. Ecuador especially had masses of fans for a first defeat in a year.

Two massive shocks to end with. Cape Verde were superbly resilient and captured the imagination in holding the all conquering Spain side. Spain looked slow and rusty and were thwarted continually by elder keeper Vozinha who has subsequently more followers on instagram than the NFL’s most high profile player and has been reunited with his mother.

Happy days.

The biggest shock though came in the Portugal and DR Congo game. Wissa scored. As I said earlier, the biggest and best have come to the fore. Ronaldo or Wissa was no contest and if you weren't interested in the World Cup, you surely are now.

For the record, Burn, Woltemade and Elanga played a minute between them, and though Bruno got an assist he was, erm, not at his best. Wissa the real NUFC hero. Reborn in the USA?

Week two has started, better get that notepad ready for more tedious anecdotes. Just how you like it, I'm assuming.

Scott Robson