Extra Time, Extra Tired

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThree in the morning has a particular quality of silence to it — the kind where the fridge hum sounds like an orchestra and every footstep on the tiles feels like a confession. That was the hour the alarm went off, not out of necessity but out of principle. The World Cup final does not wait for a reasonable bedtime, and neither, it turns out, does Anita.

She was up before me, already settled in with the air of someone attending a proper occasion rather than watching football at an ungodly hour. The halftime show was the priority — BTS were on the bill, and she had opinions about camera angles before a ball had even been kicked in the second half. I'll admit I was there for the football and stayed, somewhat helplessly, for the spectacle. Shakira, Chris Martin, a school choir from Staten Island, and enough pyrotechnics to make the neighbours wonder if we'd finally gone to war with someone. Ten minutes of it and I still couldn't tell you how they got Coldplay involved, but there we are.

The match itself was Spain's, thoroughly. Argentina had Messi, and Messi had one good sprint in him early on, but the rest of the night belonged to a Spanish side that defended like it owed someone money and attacked like it didn't. A red card, a disallowed goal, a goalkeeper making saves that will be replayed for years — and then, deep into extra time, Ferran Torres did what substitutes are occasionally put on the pitch to do. Deserved winners. Argentina, for all their pedigree, never quite looked like men who believed it was their night.

None of which helps at half six in the morning, when the alarm goes off for real this time and the body simply declines to cooperate. Getting to work felt less like a commute and more like wading — everything slightly delayed, as though the whole day had also stayed up to watch the final and was equally reluctant to get going. Clinic ran long, the way clinics do when everyone in the room is operating on borrowed sleep and good intentions. Patience held, just about, though there was a point mid-afternoon where a very ordinary sentence took three attempts to land correctly.

Small mercy: I was back home in good time, which felt like the day's one unambiguous victory. No extra time required for that particular fixture.

What's left now is the business of recovering — an early night non-negotiable, sleep owed and about to be collected. And somewhere in the back of my mind, the quiet, low-grade nag of a JB trip that needs packing for, sitting there patiently, waiting its turn. Tomorrow's problem. Tonight belongs to the pillow.

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 ...