If you were to present the headlines around the 2026 World Cup to my nine-year-old self he would have been appalled.

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All of the quality, the stardom, the magic, the legend that made my entry-level drug tournament, France 1998, so special would appear to have been replaced with an overblown, overwhelming, commercialised mess of corporate greed.

But I would be wrong. Not wrong about it being all-consuming, but becoming.

Nostalgia is dangerous and the nineties were not exempt from capitalism overpowering sport (Atlanta 1996, anyone?).

In fact, my first World Cup was the first that Nike launched one of its all-out, all-encompassing advert campaigns, which featured Brazil playing football in an airport.

The team’s star, Ronaldo, was perhaps a greater worldwide superstar than the game had ever seen, and the final was surrounded by (now debunked) rumours that Nike had forced the unwell No. 9 to play.

The World Cup had been expanded that year from 24 to 32 teams. England’s fall-guy David........

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