World Cup Last 32 – England vs Mexico!! I’d been tracking prices for this fixture in the months leading up to the tournament starting, and I must admit, I’d never clocked the potential of us playing Mexico.
Back then the pre-tournament prices of £1,200 a ticket were utterly ridiculous, but as time goes on and you become more au fait with the pricing and come to accept that as the reality. At this point I would have bitten your hand off for £1,200 a ticket, sounds crazy, I know.
Frustratingly, by now tickets were up to three times that but even so, I had to go to Mexico, if only to go and soak up the atmosphere after missing out on the last two matches. Needless to say, I couldn’t afford the prices being bandied about but that didn’t mean I’d be giving up hope.
Heading South
I made my way to the Mexican capital via a nice little stopover in Punta Cana airport. In transit I had one thing on my mind. I searched ‘England’ in my phone book and sent feelers out to anyone I’d bumped into over the years at previous tournaments.
Nothing positive was coming back until one of my best mates Barney dropped me a message. His cousin Si, who I’d had the pleasure of meeting myself on several occasions, was one of England’s top cappers and had travelled the world watching his country for the best part of forever.
He knew a guy who knew a guy who had tickets up to the final but had to pop home for some crazy reason like ‘having a job’ or something. The honour amongst the members of the Supporters Club is that you don’t resell for profit, merely pass it on face value to another proper England fan.
I couldn’t believe it, £450!! I was passed Kev’s number, we arranged to meet in Mexico City and as simple as that, job done! It still didn’t seem real, I could barely say it out loud when chatting to anyone that I actually had a ticket!
The most hyped encounter in our recent history and I was bloody going! We hadn’t played a host nation since a third-place play-off in Italia 90. Before that, Spain in 1982. But this was the first in my footballing memory.
One for the ages
Seeing the tournament hosts at any world cup is something I’ve always wanted to do and hadn’t managed in my 3 previous attempts. There is something magical about tens of thousands of people uniting and passionately singing the national anthem.
It’d been a long-time ambition and now I was about to do it as an away fan. Bring it on. This is epic. And not only that, the bloody stadium! El Estadio Azteca. Opened poetically in 1966, home to two previous World Cup finals in 1970 and 1986, this place was part of footballing folklore.
Above and beyond all that, we were in search of redemption to dispel some demons. Some 40 years earlier just weeks after I arrived on this planet, we were victims to one of the most infamous decisions in footballing history, ‘The Hand of God’.
Maradona leapt highest above Peter Shilton to punch the ball goalwards, obvious to everyone around them except the match officials. To add to the legend of the match, ‘El Pibe de Oro’ then went on to add to his tally with one of the most beautiful goals the sport has ever seen.
An encounter that every England fan grew up hearing tales of, and now we were returning to that fabled arena looking to write a more positive chapter in our shared history by becoming only the third team in history to beat Mexico in a competitive match here.
Altitude check
I arrived a few days before the showdown and had a few things I’d like to revisit as a returning tourist. Bosque de Chapultepec is a lovely vibrant spot and seemed an ideal place to test out the altitude with a 5km run. After managing that quite comfortably I was confident the lads would be fine when it came to match day.
That night I met up with Kev, confirmed the ticket plan and how I’d take in the burner phone to the stadium and return post match, all added to the mystique. And while I still had the tiniest of doubts that things could go wrong right up until I was in the stadium, everything felt a little more real now.
Kev headed back and was replaced by another group of old pals, Arthur, Jesper, Sam and his lovely girlfriend Claudia. A great catch up while watching Cape Verde give Argentina a scare followed by some local Tacos, what’s not to love. One thing of note was the first rumblings of how much dislike there was from the Mexicans towards the current World Cup holders.
A feeling I later discovered was prevalent throughout Latin America and the Argies were pushed firmly outside of the Latino brotherhood, mainly due to their perceived arrogance and insistence on their superiority above all others. I’ll leave people to make their own mind up on that one.
Tourism Time
The following afternoon, I combined my new Mexican buddies with a group of England fans I knew, and we headed down to Xochimilco for the most Mexican of experiences. Sunday was the main day for visiting this little town to jump on some beautifully decorated boats while drinking beers and Tequila’s while floating along the canals.
Dozens of other groups were out enjoying the atmosphere, getting the Mariachi on board for a proper traditional Mexican sing song. A cracking experience which is one of many you will encounter along the journey of following your team at a World Cup.
Evening came and we made a whole load more friends singing and chanting outside a bar back in Roma Norte, happy vibes as both countries sang their songs. The usual England chants were flowing and a rather comical retort from the locals.
“Inglaterra va a probar, el chile nacional’
I’ll leave you to google that one but it was all in good spirit.
Another nice one which every England fan knew after spending a few days in Mexico.
“Quiere volar, quiere volar”
‘He wants to fly’. I don’t know whether there should be a question mark in there but often that didn’t matter. Passing tourists were picked up and thrown in the air like a championship winning manager. After an initial panic, once you realised that the group of random Mexicans picking you up were doing so in good spirit, it was all part of the fun.
We now had a whole new crew and mooched on to a club and partied the night away ahead of the big one the next day.
Matchday
Thankfully for us in Mexico, kick off had remained at 5pm local time despite the weather warnings teasing an earlier kick off to the delight of those back home. Once reinstated, it allowed the party the night before and a little lie in as well.
It’s not for me to say but I can’t imagine too many bigger occasions in Mexico’s footballing history. The city was full of energy and hope….well, I imagine it was anyway. I’d managed to get a taxi driver who had no idea how to navigate the road closures around the city and dropped me at the equivalent of the Trafford Centre full of locals doing a bit of shopping. Not ideal.
Eventually after another lengthy Uber and a stroll, I met up with my saviour Kev and his buddies Gary and George. Three of the most loyal and dedicated England supporters you will find anywhere. A couple of pints and, no surprise, a few Tacos whilst watching Gabriel once again be outdone by his arch nemesis Erling Haaland as Norway beat Brazil. Another year of that European curse that has haunted them since 2002. Now six consecutive knockouts to European teams, highlighting the struggles of modern Brazilian football.
All good fun, but it’s our time now, we’re ready for the big one. The heavens had opened, the lightning brightened up the skies, followed all too quickly by the booming thunder. They’d certainly been right about the weather forecast.
I’d had the pleasure of watching a league fixture here in 2019 but this was something else, even the rain couldn’t dampen our excitement when the stadium appeared as we crossed the bridge. We took a few photos but sadly the weather meant the festivities around the ground had to be cut short. Saying that, being outnumbered by what felt like 100 to 1 was not so much fun, only so much ‘chile nacional’ we could probar.
Into the Lions Den
We sheltered from the elements and made our way into the bowels of the stadium, restricted to the concourse until the bad weather abated. Not to worry, they had cold Mich Ultras and there were plenty of England fans making noise, with the tight enclosed space only adding to the acoustics. The stadium underbelly was so typical of a historic stadium, like the Maradona Stadium in Napoli or the old Nou Camp in Barcelona. No murals, no advertising, no promotional shite, just good old fashioned blank concrete walls.
Kick off back home was due to be 1am, many sensible souls switched off their phones and planned to watch the replay at 7 in the morning. Millions of others however, went to the pubs where opening hours had been extended by our outgoing Prime Minister. Fair play to them, the levels of dedication were never in doubt though.
As the rain subsided, we made our way out and caught that first stunning feeling of grandeur in this magnificent sporting arena. Hard to put into words but this was it. It’s really happening.
We all took a moment to ourselves to soak it all in. When they chucked on ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ on the stadium sound system, I couldn’t have wished to be anywhere else in the world. Hundreds of happy Englishmen drinking it all in, the rain continued but we were loving every second.
New one for me
I looked up to see a notice displayed around the stadium.
‘Protocolo de tormenta electrica activado. Favor de ingresar al estadio y ocupar sus asientos’
Basically, there’s an electrical storm on the way, leave your seats and get back inside.
Good luck enforcing that one. It was barely a drizzle by now, so we were only going back inside to top up on cerveza. Now this probably wasn’t ideal for those back home, though I’m sure a few didn’t mind one jot, The ‘Electrical Storm Protocol’ had caused an hour’s delay to kick off.
Happy days, I’m in my element, in the England end drinking Micheladas and singing songs, one more hour of pre-game, sure why not? 80,000 people having a couple more drinks down their neck before the match began, that can only add to the already lively atmosphere, right?
Now for the anthems. We sang our hearts out as always but the host nation was destined to steal the show. Videos of the stirring atmosphere had circulated of previous games showings 75,000 people singing in unity. A sight to behold but this is a football match, as the anthem ticked towards 90 seconds a shout of “F***in’ hell, how long is this?” was heard. Time for the football.
Game time
From minute one, the home fans whistled whenever we were in possession. A yellow card for Declan Rice in the first 5 minutes didn’t quite give us the calm start we were looking for. Not long after, Jordan Pickford pulled off one of the saves of the tournament right in front of us after a brilliant diving header from local legend Raul Jimenez. The players looked ok out there but this really was the cauldron of an atmosphere we were expecting and ‘El Tri’ were well up for it.
The next 20 minutes brought a couple of half chances to either side as both teams looked to find a foothold in the game. But on 35 minutes the tie burst into life. Bukayo Saka clips in a beautifully weighted ball to the back post and this time the diving header was not going to be stopped by anyone. Jude Bellingham put the Three Lions in front ….cue scenes of jubilation amongst the England fans. Absolute pandemonium.
We didn’t really deserve to be in front but who cares. We had barely settled down from the first celebration as the game restarted but a quick dispossession and fast break and before we knew it…WHO ELSE?? Jude has only gone and done it again. Two goals in 98 seconds had silenced the Azteca. Where did that even come from?
Celebrations in our end were chaotic as always. Hugging strangers you’d never met before, picking people off the floor. Incredible. What a moment. We couldn’t believe it. In the space of two minutes we’d gone from nervy and second best to feeling like this could turn into a rout. 40 years after the number 10 of Argentina set the world alight, our very own was doing it all again. What a man!
Hold your horses
We were still jumping up and down in disbelief as we turned round to see Mexico had a Free-Kick outside our box. Within seconds, chants of ‘Don’t Take Me Home’ turned into a deafening cheer from the home side. 2-1!
The away end silenced, and the roar of the Mexicans coincided with litres of beer being thrown down on us from above. That brief moment of thinking this could be a cruise vanished in an instant. Mexico were bang up for the challenge and right back in it. What an insane 5 minutes of football. Game on!!
Up to this point, there hadn’t been too much needle between the fans, all smiles and pleasantries pre-match but the covering of beer, the roar around the stadium and turning round to see the venom in the celebrations. OK, let’s have it. Come on England!
Even before half time there were outstanding defensive interventions from Pickford again and Jude clearing pretty much off his goal line, he was on fire. Our backs were firmly to the wall and the break came at a very opportune moment for us.
The rollercoaster restarted and what looked like a cracking challenge from Jarell Quansah had the whole Mexican bench off their seats. From our distant vantage point we thought there was nothing wrong with it so when the ref brandished a red card following a VAR review it only heightened our sense of injustice thus inciting a more heated and tense atmosphere.
Barely a chance to catch our breath and through on goal, Anthony Gordon was taken out by the advancing Goalkeeper. PENALTY!! Such a crucial moment in the tie, it was hard to see us keeping a clean sheet for half an hour with 10 men so we really needed this buffer. If I could pick one man in the world for this situation it was Harry Kane. I can’t lie, I was nervous. This was huge……NEVER.IN.DOUBT.
We are blessed to have two absolutely world class attackers in the form of their life and Harry had made it 3-1. I was right about us needing that extra goal as Kane turned villain at the other end giving away a penalty just 8 minutes later which was duly converted and Jimenez finally got the goal his all-round play deserved. This is going to be a rough 20 minutes.
Backs to the wall
Introducing Djed Spence and Big Dan Burn, there was no doubt about the tactics. Such an intense battle at altitude had taken its toll. Time to get 9 men behind the ball and defend like our lives depended on it.
Mexico moved the ball from side to side nicely and began to pepper the England box with crosses, mostly dealt with very well but a few heart stopping moments when a Mexican head met it, time and again the underfire backline held strong.
90 minutes came and went but with a Hydration break, two penalties and a disputed red card there were 11 long, painful, arduous minutes added on. Come on boys. Keep going.
This was one for the ages. Down the far end we were counting down the seconds in sheer desperation. The corner count piled up, the Mexican keeper came up. 102 minutes and John Stones turned the ball inches past his own post, another corner.
Just one more clearance. One more!! Please!! Pickford punched away from the resulting corner and FINALLY. The most beautiful of sounds. That long awaited final whistle. We’d only gone and done it. In the words of Gazza, “Aye, it wasn’t bad was it? EEEEEE”
One of the most incredible games of World Cup football that will live long in the memory for all that watched it. Having been to over 100 stadiums across the world, I often get asked what my favourite match ever is, and to be honest I’d never settled on a clear answer to that.
At least not until the 5th July 2026. Now I firmly have one very clear answer. England 3 Mexico 2 in the Azteca Stadium. Unreal. Oh what a blessing to have been there.
We did it!!
Celebrations ensued, relief all round, bloody disbelief all round. Grown men in tears, it’s always hard to explain what it means to people, and why it means so much to people, but it really does.
Our boys ran over once again for the now familiar rendition of Wonderwall and a moment we will never forget. The song had barely finished when you could see that something serious had happened. Maybe a fainting due to the altitude and stress of the occasion but the reaction looked worse as the players gathered anxiously around the incident, protecting the dignity of the victim.
The party was cut short a little earlier than planned which was a real shame, and when we discovered it was only a Jordan Henderson broken arm then it was all a little bit disappointing. You plonker, Jordan!
The atmosphere had changed throughout the contest, switching to a high level of animosity, but this merely added to the feeling and you wouldn’t want it any other way. However, on the completion of the game, I’ve never seen such a generous reaction from the losing team.
People leaned down from the section above us to shake our hands and wish us the best, other videos showed a guard of honour by some of the natives, applauding the English supporters which was a real joy to see and captured the spirit of the game and the Mexican character beautifully.
On my return to the city, I headed to meet up with my new amigos from the night before. I’d been warned about a possible sinister atmosphere should we be victorious and to maybe bring a change of shirt to avoid any aggro, my friend Sandra even put me in touch with her lawyer friend, should I get into any bother.
I got sprayed with foam and thrown up in the air but barring the odd comment, most people were respectful and dignified in defeat. The most recurring response…. “Now you have to go and beat Argentina!”
As one of my favourite countries in the world long before this trip, it was beautiful to see this newfound relationship between Mexico and England, I’m now one of many thousands who were there in Mexico City with this feeling in their hearts.
Recovery Time
A full recovery day was much needed before finally getting to check out the Fanzone to watch Argentina’s controversial victory over Egypt, only fuelling the ‘FIFA-Messi’ conspiracy and the anti-Argentina feeling, things were heating up nicely.
As is the case more often than you can imagine, I turned to my left and spotted my ol’ pal Nick from Euro 2024, one who I’d tried to meet up with and failed in Boston.
We had no post-match plans, so strolled the streets and made our way to the top of Torre Latinoamerica for a drink or two where we put the world to rights while observing stunning views over the city. Returning to the fanzone to see Colombia fall to Switzerland, we bumped into yet another old acquaintance.
‘That World Cup Guy’ (Andy), famed for his dedication to England over the years, this being his 10th World Cup he was now fortunate to be sponsored by Hilton to reward his dedication over the years. Despite having to pose for dozens of selfies a day he is still always amiable and chatty and organically making most of the opportunities the World Cup provides.
His local friend ended up taking us out to a cracking authentic Mexican restaurant which was great fun from start to finish. Traditional food, local beers and a shot of Tequila for all the patrons, throw in some Mexican tunes and Andy taking the mic to blast out a fine rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline’. It was one of my favourite nights out of the whole trip and another abiding memory of my experience in Mexico.
My time in North America was coming to an end. I’d fly to Miami for the Norway clash in hope of another ticket but then to New York the morning after to catch my flight home to Manchester.
But Arthur knows me better than I know myself sometimes.
“What will you do if you beat Norway?”
“I’ve gotta get home my man, I’m due back at work on the Monday”
“No, but really Mart? It could be Argentina! You can’t go home”
It was the first time I’d considered it myself and actually said the words out loud…..
”Maybe I could stay”