Philip Patrick

With the prospect of Messi closing out his glorious career with the ultimate prize it’s likely most neutral fans will be rooting for Argentina in today’s World Cup final. The only place where that might not be true – apart from Brazil – is England, where there may even be an unlikely revival of the entente cordiale in some quarters. For Argentina have held the title of the ‘team we love to hate’ mantle for some time now.

I hope that the Argentinian national team (also known as Lionel Messi) will win its third (or first?) World Cup on Sunday. But even if it doesn’t, the team’s legendary number ten has surely achieved that rare and precious accolade – earned by Pele in 1970 and Maradona in 1986 – of so dominating a World Cup that it will forever be linked to him. With respect to the supercharged Kylian Mbappé this has been Messi’s tournament. And you can be sure that, win or lose, the world’s media will be focused on him when the game ends.

You often hear about ‘legacy’ when international sporting tournaments come around. It’s a weasel word used by the organisers to justify the colossal expense by promising some lasting benefit – which usually comes to nothing. But perhaps with the Qatar World Cup, one of the most controversial in the competition’s history, there may be a worthwhile legacy, though not one the organisers could possibly have anticipated.

England have backed down in the ludicrous standoff with Fifa over the plan for captain Harry Kane to wear a ‘One Love’ armband – to show solidarity with gay community of Qatar – in today’s opening fixture against Iran. The move would have defied the governing body’s rules on acceptable on field attire. Faced with the threat of an instant yellow card for Kane, which, if repeated in the second game would have kept him out of the third, England blinked.  This absurd little episode ought not to detain us for long, except that it is revealing as it gives us a fairly accurate gauge of the true force of Gareth Southgate and his squad of itinerant social justice warriors’ principles.

Cristiano Ronaldo has almost certainly played his last game for Manchester United after an ‘explosive’ interview which ‘the whole world’s talking about’ (Piers Morgan’s words). ‘The biggest star that football has ever seen’ (Piers again) spills the beans on his cruel and incompetent employers in a two-part interview to be broadcast tonight and tomorrow. Fans will be left wondering how much is hype and where the truth and blame resides.

At least 151 people were crushed or trampled to death in a narrow alley in the South Korean capital Seoul last night. That figure – which is expected to rise – makes it one of the worst peacetime disasters in the country’s history. President Yoon Suk-yeol has declared a national period of mourning. Both Rishi Sunak and Joe Biden have sent messages of sympathy. The victims, many of whom were young women, were celebrating Halloween in the Itaewon entertainment district of the South Korean capital. Details of exactly what happened are sketchy, but it seems that a huge mass of people poured in to one of the area’s narrow alleyways, where panic provoked a stampede which led to those at one end of the street falling over. First came a cascade of partygoers, then a disaster.

There isn’t much that unites the fractious, dysfunctional football family. But in the UK, at least, there is something most fans seem to agree on: VAR – Video Assistant Referee – is awful. The technology, introduced to limit errors and controversy, appears to be having the opposite effect. Critics speak of VAR as if it were a malevolent spirit tormenting players, supporters, and coaches alike. Its frequent manifestations usually involve lengthy pauses resulting in seemingly random judgements. Onlookers – particularly those watching in the stands – are often left perplexed and enraged. This week, in a classic VAR episode, Spurs were denied a thrilling, potentially lucrative, last second winner in their Champion’s League tie with Sporting Lisbon – thanks to VAR.

Tokyo After 23 years in Japan, having tried everything from yatai (street food) to deep-fried globe fish in a kaiseki (traditional) restaurant, I have come to the conclusion that Japanese food is overrated. It is rarely less than perfectly presented, and it can be superb – but it can also be bland and homogenous. Part of the problem is that much of what delights the Japanese about their food is unrelated to its actual taste. If British food, in the bad old days at least, was simply fuel, Japanese food has always been, to some extent, art. A high-end Japanese meal is the equivalent of a Wagnerian gesamtkunstwerk, with the colours, the choice of bowls, utensils, tablecloth, room, and tinkling water from a nearby stream, if available, part of the all-encompassing sensory experience.