Haaland Stuns Brazil as England Survive Azteca Storm

Geoffrey Ashworth

Ninety minutes on the clock in East Rutherford, New Jersey, and the giant video screen is showing Neymar, face buried in the turf, sobbing like his heart is breaking. Because it, well, it-it-it absolutely was. Before we dive into how a Viking pillaged the New York suburbs, today's episode is brought to you by Jellypod -- they make getting your daily podcast fix as easy as a tap of a button. Now, back to the drama. What we saw at MetLife Stadium... by heck, it was less of a football match and more of a Norse saga written in sweat and tears. Brazil, the samba kings, completely undone by the sheer, unadulterated ruthlessness of Norway. And let's be honest, we all knew Erling Haaland was a bit of a monster, but what he did to Marquinhos and Gabriel in that final quarter of an hour... it-it was proper, old-school center-forward play. The kind of stuff that makes an old Sheffield Wednesday left-back like me get a bit misty-eyed.

Geoffrey Ashworth

For seventy-eight minutes, it was a cagey, suffocating sort of affair. Brazil had the ball, but Norway had the discipline. They dug in like they were defending a narrow valley in the fjords. And then, the breakthrough. A corner floated in, and Haaland... he just rises. It's not even a jump, it's a, uh, a sort of aerial conquest. He thumps the header home in the seventy-ninth minute. One-nil. But the real magic, the moment that made me nearly choke on my tea, came in the ninetieth. A long, hopeful ball forward. Haaland chases what looks like a lost cause, shrugs off a challenge that would have felled a lesser man, and bang! A lethal, low drive right into the bottom corner! That's seven goals for him now in this tournament. Absolute, pure predatory genius. But, of course, that's only half the story.

Geoffrey Ashworth

Before Haaland's second, there was this-this massive, pivotal moment. Brazil gets a penalty. Bruno Guimarães steps up. A chance to level it, to change the whole script. He strikes it well enough, but Ørjan Nyland... by heck, what a save! He flings himself to his right, tips it away, and the Norwegian bench goes absolutely mental. Now, Neymar did get his penalty deep into stoppage time -- tucked it away beautifully, he did -- but it was too little, too late. When the whistle blew, Neymar just collapsed. Thirty-two years old, probably his last ride on this grand world stage, and it ends in tears on the Jersey grass. You almost felt for him, you really did, despite all the theatricals.

Geoffrey Ashworth

Now, if you thought the drama in New Jersey was thick, we have to talk about what happened down in Mexico City. Estadio Azteca. I've always called it the grandest cathedral of them all. There's a-a certain reverence to the place, the ghost of Pelé in '70, Maradona in '86. But last night, the old stadium was under proper siege. Not just from the football, mind you, but from the heavens themselves. A massive summer thunderstorm rolled over the valley, lightning cracking right over the rim of the stadium. Fans were actually forced to shelter in the concourses. It was bloody terrifying, to be honest. And inside that cauldron, England were trying to survive both an unbeaten Mexican side and the sheer, thin air of seventy-two hundred feet above sea level.

Geoffrey Ashworth

Thomas Tuchel, bless him, had made this massive tactical gamble. He'd kept the England squad training at altitude, trying to acclimatize them for this specific test. But you could see it in their faces by the hour mark -- that grey, hollow-eyed look players get when their lungs are screaming for oxygen that just isn't there. Mexico, backed by ninety thousand screaming fans, played like men possessed. It was like Aztec thunder rolling down from the stands. England managed to scrape a draw out of it, but by the end, they looked like they'd spent twelve rounds with middleweights. It was a proper, old-fashioned battle of endurance.

Geoffrey Ashworth

But there's no rest for the wicked, is there? Tomorrow we do it all over again with a quite staggering double-header. First, we've got an Iberian derby -- Portugal against Spain, down in Arlington. If that doesn't get your blood pumping, I don't know what will. And then, the host United States take on Belgium under the lights in Seattle. It's going to be absolute bedlam. I'll have my tartan scarf ready, that's for sure. Right, that's about all from me today. Off to get a decent pint. Tarrah for now.