I am excited for the World Cup. Really excited. Everywhere you look there are epic possibilities and echoes of past glory, past ignominy.
Tunisia! Playing England in their first game! They were there in my first time cup in 1978. The prospect of them getting a result against England is quite tantalising, quite naughty.
Speaking of which - Iceland! Less people than Tasmania! Playing Messi's Argentina first if you don't mind! And managed by a part time dentist!
I pulled out Senegal in the work sweep. Remember the opening game of 2002 when their journeymen from the French 2nd division beat the champions France on opening night of the Cup? Football, bloody hell.
My hopes for the beauty and drama of the football are boundless. Australia are quite likely to come home without a goal or a point. But ... what if on Saturday night they stun France, Senegal-style? And go top of the group? Nick a 1-1 with Denmark and then it's a 0-0 staring contest with Peru to WIN the group? Which would send them to a knockout game against 2nd rate Croatia, 3rd rate Nigeria or Actual Minnow Iceland?
Yes, I dream big. See I've already got us into the Quarters (where we are going to meet at worst Uruguay) but enough of the football.
My hopes for Russia, for FIFA, for racism, corruption, hooliganism .. are zero. This World Cup won't change a thing. They never do. And that's depressing.
England's Danny Rose has insisted his family do not come to Russia for the Cup - their skin colour puts them at risk.
German sports journalist Hajo Seppelt, who uncovered the story of systematic Russian doping, is not covering the Cup ... German security agencies have advised him he would be at risk if he travelled there.
It's a collision of sports and politics, mad nationalism, individual brilliance and dogged team-first discipline, lurid despicable cheating, grace and generosity and rusted-on certainties and surprises.
I hate it, I love it. Go Australia, go Iceland, go Tunisia, go football.
