GOM World Cup Diary #38 One Game Left…

Whatever Happened To The Journey?

It’s funny how quickly four weeks can disappear.

When the World Cup kicked off, it felt as though we had a whole summer of football stretching out in front of us.

The opening ceremony.

The first surprises.

The first controversial VAR decision.

The first underdog refusing to read the script.

It all seemed such a long time ago.

Now, somehow, we’re down to one game that really matters.

Yes, I know there’s still the Third Place Play-off, but I’ve already had my little grumble about that. My mind has moved on, and I suspect the minds of most football supporters have as well.

The Final is all that’s left.

It made me realise how often we spend our lives looking at the destination instead of appreciating the journey.

We do it with holidays.

The planning starts months in advance.

The cases are packed.

The excitement builds.

Then, before you know it, you’re standing at the baggage carousel wondering where the last fortnight went.

Life has a habit of doing that.

Children grow up.

Careers come and go.

Neighbours move away.

Even World Cups, which seem to dominate every waking moment, eventually become another set of memories tucked away in the back of our minds.

Looking back, this tournament has given us just about everything.

Underdogs who refused to know their place.

Favourites who discovered reputations don’t score goals.

Referees who occasionally seemed to be watching a completely different match.

VAR reminding us that football can now take longer to make a decision than it takes some people to choose a new kitchen.

We’ve laughed.

We’ve celebrated.

We’ve grumbled.

Well, I have. It’s practically a full-time occupation.

But that’s been the joy of it.

Football has once again proved that it’s never really just about football.

It’s about hope.

Disappointment.

Friendship.

Families gathered around televisions.

Strangers becoming friends for ninety minutes.

Conversations in pubs.

Arguments in living rooms.

Children dreaming.

Adults pretending not to.

Tomorrow, one team will lift the World Cup.

They’ll rightly earn the headlines.

But the tournament has belonged to far more than one team.

Cape Verde reminded us that courage matters.

Morocco showed us what belief can achieve.

Norway proved that reputations are there to be challenged.

England gave us hope.

Spain reminded us that quiet confidence is often more powerful than loud prediction.

Even the teams going home early played their part.

Without every one of them, there wouldn’t have been a journey worth taking.

Perhaps that’s the real lesson.

The trophy belongs to one nation.

The memories belong to all of us.

By Monday, the stadiums will begin to empty.

The television crews will head home.

Supporters will fold away their flags.

The football shirts will find their way back into wardrobes.

Life will quietly return to normal.

Until, one day, someone mentions the next World Cup…

…and we’ll all start believing again.

Funny old game.

Funny old life.

Anyway, what do I know?

I’m just a grumpy old man.

Go on then… leave a comment. Show me your inner GOM.