So this is the story. Back in 1990 my Mum and Dad were on holiday in Bulgaria and my Dad went into a bar to see the first game of the World Cup being played. He spoke no Bulgarian and the guy sitting at the bar enrapture by what he saw spoke little English but nevertheless a conversation followed.

This was the days before a scoreline was pasted onto the top left hand corner of the screen so my Dad asked “Score?”

The reply was excited, breathless even, “Cameroon one, Ar-gent-tine-a none” a surprise and welcome result – the Mano de Donna being only four year previous.

As – I imagine – a smile crossed my Father’s lips the Bulgarian continued with excitement trying to communicate the dying embers of what many consider the most enjoyable game in World Cup history.

“Cameroon. Two men. Outside!”