So the trophy is polished, the confetti has been swept from the MetLife Stadium turf, and Spain's champions have touched down in Madrid to a cacophony...
So the trophy is polished, the confetti has been swept from the MetLife Stadium turf, and Spain's champions have touched down in Madrid to a cacophony of adoration. The scenes at Barajas Airport were everything a nation dreams of: tears, flags, and the sight of a golden prize held aloft against the Spanish dusk. But let's be brutally honest about the circus that preceded the coronation. The final itself, a masterclass in transitional play and clinical finishing from a Spanish side that has redefined tactical flexibility over the last few years, was nearly drowned out by the noise of an event desperately trying to sell itself.Was it a football final or a political rally That is the question lingering over New Jersey. The closing ceremony felt like a contractual obligation, a lacklustre affair where Tom Cruise was audibly heckled off the stage. A half time show nobody requested plugged a gap that didn't need filling. Then, having kept his physical distance from the players all tournament, President Donald Trump emerged to plant himself front and centre just as the curtain was dropping. A master of the late steal. It felt crass, a cynical attempt to graft himself onto the glory of a Spanish team that had done all the hard work on the pitch. The fans, rightly, saw right through it.For Spain, however, this is their moment. They have conquered the world, and the return to the motherland is a victory lap that should be celebrated without distraction. The debate about the host nation's governance is one for the political pages, not the back pages of GoalZaza. Yet it is impossible to ignore the bizarre backdrop to one of the greatest days in Spanish football history. Did the event feel a little too much like a showbiz production at times Absolutely. But the football, the beautiful, intricate football, won in the end.Speaking of which, a reader named Peter Oh raised the most pertinent point of the entire tournament. The last team to beat Spain in a competitive fixture was Scotland. Does that mean, in some strange, parallel universe, that Scotland have won the World Cup It is a beautiful thought, a glorious piece of bar room logic that will be debated in pubs from Glasgow to Edinburgh for the next four years. It highlights the strange, romantic, and often irrational ways we try to claim a piece of glory. For now, though, the crown sits firmly on the heads of La Roja. And honestly, after the pageantry and the politicking of the final day, it is a relief to just talk about the football again.
