As the beginnings of a Mexico City thunderstorm swirl high above, dark clouds circling like a slow-motion whirlpool, a pair of English fans do not give a jot.
It is three hours before Mexico face England in the most anticipated match at the Estadio Azteca in 40 years. Attendees are being warned to take cover as the police implement their electrical storm protocol. But these adults, merry on pure vibes, are engrossed in the most childlike of games: a chalk-drawn hopscotch on the gravel, outside the stadium's Cabecera Norte end, with 'Viva Mexico' at the top. And the locals, kids and adults alike, are loving it.
And when embarking on a lap of the outer perimeter of the World Cup's most iconic venue before the blockbuster last-16 occasion, similar feel-good scenes are at every corner. Event volunteers dressed in blue and green form a 'Limbo' dance opportunity for passers-by; half a dozen Mexican dance groups greet ticket holders to the south of the main entrance; Mexicans joust with English in gentle ribbing as they queue for entry into the arena.
It is an intoxicating, smile-inducing, dopamine-hitting environment. This is the essence of the biggest event in world sport: the amalgamation of different nationalities and cultures, old and young, male and female. All coalescing, with passion and fervour, in a setting completely irrational and illogical, if it were not for two national football teams going head-to-head.
This is the premise of founder Jules Rimet's vision when he formed the very first World Cup in 1930. In his words: "It's about bringing together countries from around the world, people who might otherwise have nothing in common… at least for a little while." And, mercifully, 96 years on in its 23rd edition, the tournament still fulfils this overarching ethos, despite all the factors working against those in the stands.
It is three hours before Mexico face England in the most anticipated match at the Estadio Azteca in 40 years. Attendees are being warned to take cover as the police implement their electrical storm protocol. But these adults, merry on pure vibes, are engrossed in the most childlike of games: a chalk-drawn hopscotch on the gravel, outside the stadium's Cabecera Norte end, with 'Viva Mexico' at the top. And the locals, kids and adults alike, are loving it.
And when embarking on a lap of the outer perimeter of the World Cup's most iconic venue before the blockbuster last-16 occasion, similar feel-good scenes are at every corner. Event volunteers dressed in blue and green form a 'Limbo' dance opportunity for passers-by; half a dozen Mexican dance groups greet ticket holders to the south of the main entrance; Mexicans joust with English in gentle ribbing as they queue for entry into the arena.
It is an intoxicating, smile-inducing, dopamine-hitting environment. This is the essence of the biggest event in world sport: the amalgamation of different nationalities and cultures, old and young, male and female. All coalescing, with passion and fervour, in a setting completely irrational and illogical, if it were not for two national football teams going head-to-head.
This is the premise of founder Jules Rimet's vision when he formed the very first World Cup in 1930. In his words: "It's about bringing together countries from around the world, people who might otherwise have nothing in common… at least for a little while." And, mercifully, 96 years on in its 23rd edition, the tournament still fulfils this overarching ethos, despite all the factors working against those in the stands.
18 days ago
