Extra Time Is Contagious

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoFrance went out to Spain last night, which felt less like news and more like the world quietly rearranging its furniture. Two-nil, no reply, the sort of scoreline that ends a run rather than merely bruising it — and somewhere in that result sat the small, private acknowledgement that the tournament had just tightened considerably. If Spain can do that to France, tomorrow's business with Argentina suddenly carries a bit more weight than it did a few days ago.

Because England play in the morning. Not the pleasant, mid-afternoon kind of morning either — the proper stuff, kick-off scheduled for three, the hour at which even keen supporters start negotiating with themselves about whether devotion is worth the under-eye consequences. I've made peace with the alarm already. Whether my body has is a separate and unresolved matter.

The day itself got in first, as days tend to when they know something's coming. Early start, the kind where the morning hasn't properly woken up yet but you have to act as though it has. Clinic was busy in that steady, unbroken way — no real gaps, just one thing folding into the next, the sort of pace that doesn't leave room to notice you're tired until somebody asks and you realise, oh, apparently I have been standing for six hours.

By the time things eased, the light outside had already started thinking about leaving, and I found myself home later than planned, staring at a stack of paperwork that had been patiently waiting its turn all day. Nothing dramatic in it, just the accumulated admin of running a full clinic — forms, notes, the quiet bureaucracy that never appears in anyone's highlight reel but somehow takes up half the evening regardless. I got through it, eventually, in that head-down way where you stop noticing time passing and simply resurface once it's done.

There's a particular irony in being exhausted and still choosing to set an alarm for the small hours, but that's football for you — it doesn't ask permission, it just moves the goalposts of your sleep schedule and expects you to be grateful. An early night is now less a preference than a strategic necessity. If I'm going to be conscious for kick-off, something has to give, and it won't be the match.

So tonight's plan is uncharacteristically simple: teeth, bed, lights off, no negotiating with the phone on the way there. Tomorrow morning will bring three o'clock, Argentina, and whatever version of me is left standing after a day like today decides to show up for it. France's exit was a reminder that nothing in this tournament is owed to anyone. I'd like to think England knows that too. Either way, I'll be watching, half-asleep and fully invested, which is about as English as it gets.

Deservedly So

France was the favourite to win the World Cup from the off. They had a very talented team despite a lack of out and out striker. But Olivier Giroud turned himself into the ultimate target man and was instrumental in the way France play. This was made easy with the strong midfielders they had, plus Griezmann and Mbappe who could walk into any team in the world.

They had the perfect mix.

And Croatia wasn't that bad either. The team had leaders and guts. They fought in every corner of the pitch and truth be told, they played better than France in the Final. But it wasn't to be.

The Final was also a memorable game which had everything. Dodgy play acting earning a freekick leading up to a goal. VAR decision which could go either way. Own goals. Lloris applying to play for Liverpool with a calamatous goal.

On the flip side, Croatian equalizer from Parisic was too notch, Mbappe was an express train in scoring the final goal after Pogba demonstrating that he could shoot with both feet.

Six goals in total. And the heaven opened during the trophy presentation which was really a hug fest in the end. Mbappe was crown Young Player of the tournament with the great Luka Modric taking the consolation of the Golden Ball for tournanent's Best Player.

It was a great World Cup, topped off by a great Final. The quality of football may not be as great as the 2006 in Germany. The fact that many of the top teams stumbled during the group stage or soon after did not help. England getting to the semis put a smile to my face.

It was scary to think that France had the second youngest side - youngest being Nigeria and England third. This team will only to continue to get better. And Raphael Varane was a Rolls Royce at the centre of French defence. That boy can play ...