In 40 years watching football I’ve travelled to numerous World Cups and international tournaments, including a memorable month spent in Japan watching every England game during the 2002 edition. 

As a child I marvelled over what is still my favourite international team, the ultimately unsuccessful but utterly joyous 1982 Brazil World Cup side. Which, as an aside, proved that you simply don’t have to win silverware to prove your greatness. And my word they were great. I can still recall that glorious litany of footballing gods, from Zico to Eder, Junior and Falcao to Socrates.

To a young, wide-eyed kid racing home from school to watch these immortals grace our national game was a delight that still lives with me to this day.