Messi Mania, Ticket Shock and the Semifinal Drama

Geoffrey Ashworth

Two thousand... eight hundred... and forty-one dollars. I- I- I had to rub my eyes when I saw that figure on the screen. Two grand, eight hundred and forty-one dollars... for a single ticket to watch England play Argentina in Atlanta. Now, my dad... God rest his soul... used to take me to Hillsborough every other Saturday back in the late sixties. We paid... oh, it was a few shillings. A bit of loose change from his waistcoat pocket, and you were on the kop, smelling the rain and the Bovril. Today? For the price of one seat in Georgia, you could have bought a decent secondhand motor back in Sheffield, with enough change left over for a year's worth of fish and chips. It is... it's a sort of commercial madness, isn't it? But then... er... this is the world we live in now. And before we dive headfirst into this madness, a quick nod to our sponsors at Jellypod, who make putting this daily chatter together a whole lot easier. Now, why is Atlanta seeing this absolute... this gold rush? Well, it's not just the English travelling over. Atlanta has this massive, deeply passionate local Argentinian community... built up over years, largely thanks to Atlanta United and the legacy Tata Martino left behind there. The demand for Messi's men is... well, it's completely out of hand. Compare that to the other semi-final over in Dallas... France against Spain... where ticket prices are actually falling. It's the Messi effect, plain and simple. Though, speaking of Argentina... ...we've got a bit of a storm brewing off the pitch. Egypt's manager, Hossam Hassan... he hasn't held back. He's openly accused the organizers... FIFA, the whole lot... of favoring Argentina. His exact words... well, he suggested they wanted Messi to stay in the running, to keep the circus rolling, as it were. Now, as an old left-back who's seen his fair share of... shall we say, "generous" refereeing decisions over the last fifty years... I must admit, I smiled. We call it the rub of the green, don't we? Is there favoritism? Or is it just that when you have the greatest player on earth, the universe somehow... bends in their direction? I think it's a bit of both. You don't need a grand conspiracy in a smoke-filled room when the sheer gravity of a superstar does the work for you.

Geoffrey Ashworth

But... anyway, the rest days are finally over, thank goodness. I don't quite know what to do with myself when there's no football on. But tomorrow... tomorrow we return to the grand old cathedrals... and yes, I'm using that term with a healthy dose of Yorkshire irony to describe these massive, shiny American stadiums. Tomorrow, at three p.m. Eastern... that's eight p.m. back home for those keeping track... we have France against Spain at the AT&T Stadium in Dallas. It's a proper clash of philosophies. You've got Didier Deschamps' French machine... pragmatic, ruthlessly efficient, about as romantic as a wet Tuesday in Rotherham but incredibly hard to beat. And then you have Spain. Luis de la Fuente has built a side that's defensively rock-solid but plays with a real, sharp edge. It's going to be tight, it's going to be tactical, and I suspect... highly stressful. And then, on Wednesday... same time, three p.m. Eastern... we head to the Mercedes-Benz Stadium in Atlanta. England against Argentina. Now, both these sides are carrying some serious baggage. If you listened yesterday, you'll know I'm worried about the sheer exhaustion. England dragged themselves through one hundred and twenty minutes against Norway. Argentina did the exact same... a brutal, draining extra-time battle against Switzerland. The legs are going to be heavy. The tactical stakes? It's not about who's better on paper anymore... it's about who has any petrol left in the tank. It's the honest grind of tournament football. We'll be back tomorrow to dissect every single kick of Spain versus France. Do join me then. Until tomorrow, keep your feet on the ground.