Pics thanks to Bouna/Bendel family
Last night my brother (more a fan of rugby and cricket where England is concerned) sent a message to our Siblings WhatsApp group, asking if my sister and I would be watching the England v Norway game.
I’m sure he knew I would be. He said that they had friends coming over for dinner, but would be insisting that either they left early or stayed to watch the match.
My sister (a massive fan of Wimbledon but not football, although she watched the entire Mexico game) explained how her young grandson was going to watch with his parents at friends, while she would be watching with her little granddaughter on a sleepover.
Apart from weddings and funerals I cannot think of any other event in which we would all be involved simultaneously.
Despite the worst efforts of FIFA, this World Cup has achieved what all previous have done: it has brought us all closer together, as a species.
With more countries qualifying than ever before, the group stage felt bloated and lacking in jeopardy, but it also gave us magic moments.
Hands up here: I didn’t even know Curaçao was a place. I thought it was just an ingredient in cocktails, but the footage of the TV journalist reporting from a bar in the tiny Caribbean island at the precise moment that their team scored a goal was priceless.
The place exploded with exuberant joy, leaving the journo no choice but to join in, leaping up and down like a 7 year-old.
The world smiled at that moment.
We’ve seen minnows Cape Verde holding mighty World Champions Argentina to a draw for 111 minutes, and on the way learned that the place we describe as ‘Cape Verdy’ is known by its own people as ‘Cap Verd.’
Small details that matter a great deal if you come from Cape Verde.
As an Englishman living in the Republic of Ireland I no longer go to the pub to watch England games.
Apparently it wasn’t Oscar Wilde who said:
“The problem is the English can't remember history, while the Irish can't forget it.”
Whoever it was nailed it. After 35 years here, living with the daily, often hourly challenge of being slagged off for things the English did during their occupation of this island, I no longer find it amusing to be heckled and belittled throughout a game.
Instead I choose to stay home, and enjoy rare times in which I’m grateful for social media, sharing the excitement with my English friends and family elsewhere around the world.
As for tonight’s match I have my doubts. There are massive parallels between being a Chelsea fan and an England fan. My beloved Blues will beat Barcelona on Wednesday and lose to a tiny team on Saturday.
Norway are in no way a tiny team, but England’s victory over Mexico felt like their final. The intensity of our celebrations and physical exertions were massive, and if we lose to Norway tonight, it’ll match a pattern that has existed for decades: struggle out of the groups; win a major knockout game; start to believe the crazed hype; get overexcited and then lose.
History shows us that the Vikings tend to excel against the English. If Norway win, having already beaten the legendary football force that is Brazil, I will feel gutted, but also delighted for them, along with my friends Line and John in Oslo.
FIFA’s gangster leader Johnny Babyface (aka Gianni Infantino) cares not a jot for the Beautiful Game. He is interested only in money and power.
Hence rules were changed so that Ronaldo’s red card in Portugal’s final qualifying game was suspended, along with the mighty scandal of USA striker Balogun's red card reversal, after intervention from Trump.
Did the president really care about the USA Soccer team? No, as ever you have to follow the money: take a look at the crazily inflated prices the US TV networks were able to charge for advertising space during USA games, and boom! You’ve found the lobby that drove that decision.
In the tradition of Morecambe and Wise, here’s a little poem wot I wrote to show how I feel:
Gianni Babycakes decides what is or is not
Whichever way he dives you know he cops the lot.
Seems that Human Rights Violations
Help him choose his host nations
From Russia to Qatar,
USA to Saudi Arabiaaaar (ouch!)
Gianni is on a mission
To treat us fans with derision.
This colyoom isn’t about the corrupt greed that powers FIFA.
It’s about the pure joy and excitement felt by lovers of the game all over the world.
The pictures here are from friends of mine in London. A Spanish/English family who have cooked a different nation’s food each night, depending on who plays that day.
When the parents went away for the weekend the kids carried on and cooked for each nation each night.
When Jude Bellingham was asked how he felt about being booed and jeered as he got off the plane in Mexico City, he smiled and said he loved it, because he admired the passion Mexicans felt for football.
We love loving football. It unites families, friends and nations, offering us all a unique camaraderie (unless you’re Irish.)
I still can’t see anyone beating France, and in the pit of my stomach I see England being knocked out tonight, but I love being wrong, almost as much as I love football.
Maybe, as the landlord of my village pub ironically declared each time I’ve walked in over the last three weeks:
“It’s coming home!”
I very much doubt it, but in the true tradition of the Beautiful Game, let’s hope that at the end of the day, football is the winner.
©Charlie Adley
11.07.2026.
