60 years. 15 tournaments. 1 trophy. And that one was at home, with a disputed goal, against West Germany, before man walked on the moon.
Saturday 11 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. It is matchday. England face Norway in the World Cup Quarter-Final in Miami. The heat is 34°C. We have no right-back. Jordan Henderson has broken his arm celebrating a game he didn’t play in. And Erling Haaland is waiting.
At 8:27am, Jonny’s AI surfaced a graphic. He showed it to Dave without warning. Dave’s pint stopped halfway to his mouth. Tel looked at it, put his sunglasses on, and has not spoken since.
England’s complete World Cup quarter-final record:
Dave stared at the screen for forty-five seconds. Then: “We beat Mexico at the Azteca with ten men, Jonny. In a thunderstorm. With no right-back. Stats don’t apply to us anymore.”
“The 1990 one was 3-2 against Cameroon, Dave. That’s basically us against Mexico,” Tel notes quietly.
“Exactly. We’re in a 1990 pattern. Gazza’s tears. Bellingham’s goals. Same energy.”
“In 1990 we lost on penalties to Germany in the semi-final, Dave.”
“One step at a time, Tel.”
The 2026 row at the bottom of the table glows gold. Norway. Tonight. Jonny’s AI has updated its prediction: England 2-1. Dave has put £50 on it. Sharon has put £10 on Norway 3-2. The Oracle has not been wrong yet.
Tel has printed the BBC Sport article. He has highlighted three passages in red. He has placed it in the centre of Table 4 without saying a word. Dave looked at it. Dave put it face-down.
The facts, as Tel sees them: Miami tonight will feel like 41°C (106°F) with humidity factored in. The Hard Rock Stadium has a roof that traps heat and blocks airflow. FIFPro — the global players’ union — says matches should be delayed or postponed when the Wet Bulb Globe Temperature exceeds 28°C. Tonight’s WBGT: 28–30°C. There is no suggestion the game will not go ahead.
Norway’s preparation: four outdoor games, including a 2-1 win over Brazil last Sunday in New Jersey in 31°C+ heat. England’s outdoor games this tournament: Boston (cool), New Jersey (cool, rainy), Mexico City (18°C and raining). England have played most of their football in air-conditioned stadiums set to a comfortable 21°C.
“We trained in Kansas, Tel. Thirty-two degrees every day. We’re acclimated,” Dave says, mopping his forehead with a Pomeranian Inn napkin. He adds: “Jonny’s mate confirmed our pre-tournament protein shake order was significantly larger than Norway’s. That’s a competitive advantage, Tel.” Tel does not respond to this. Tel is staring at the weather printout.
“Norway played in thirty-one degrees last Sunday, Dave. In a game. Against Brazil. And won.”
“Brazil aren’t what they used to be.”
“You said that about the altitude, Dave. You said that about the right-back. You said that about the quarter-final record.”
“And we’re still here, Tel.”
Tel has no answer to this. This is the most infuriating thing about Dave. He is wrong about everything and right about the result. The 38 heat-related medical calls at the Hard Rock Stadium this tournament — five hospitalised — have not been mentioned to Dave. Jonny’s AI has flagged that England’s average sprint speed drops 4.2% in temperatures above 30°C. Dave says Bellingham doesn’t sprint, he glides.
Erling Haaland was born in Leeds. His dad played for Leeds United. He grew up a Leeds fan. He was eligible for England. He chose Norway. Now he’s scored seven goals in four games and he’s coming back to the country of his birth to knock England out of the World Cup.
“He’s from Leeds, Tel. Leeds. That’s basically England,” Dave insists, jabbing a thick finger at the Daily Mail sports page.
“He plays for Norway, Dave,” Tel sighs, adjusting his amber sunglasses.
“But he could’ve played for us.”
“He didn’t.”
“But he could’ve. Imagine Kane and Haaland up front together.”
“Dave.”
“I’m just saying.”
The Leeds connection is doing Dave’s head in. Sharon has pointed out that Haaland “looks a bit like a Viking.” Dave says that’s stereotyping. Sharon says he bought a plastic Viking helmet in a Benidorm gift shop yesterday. Dave says that was ironic. It was not ironic.
England started the tournament with Livramento (out before it began, groin), Reece James (hamstring, touch-and-go), and Jarell Quansah (twisted ankle vs Panama, then sent off vs Mexico for violent conduct). Quansah is suspended for Norway. England are going into a World Cup quarter-final with zero recognised right-backs.
Tel’s dossier has been updated. It now contains a section titled “The Norway Nightmare” with a photo of Antonio Nusa, Norway’s left-winger, and a large red arrow pointing at where a right-back should be.
“Konsa can play there. He’s played there before,” Dave suggests.
“He’s a centre-back, Dave,” Tel replies.
“O’Reilly can play there. He’s young. He’s keen.”
“He’s a Celtic left-back, Dave. He has four Premier League appearances.”
“Spence then.”
“Dave.”
“What about Chalobah?”
“He’s a centre-back who was brought in to replace a right-back who never played. He is also a centre-back.”
Dave has arranged fourteen empty Cerveza El Pom bottles in a 4-2-3-1 formation. The right-back bottle is lying on its side. It has been lying on its side since the Quansah red card. Nobody has moved it.
Jordan Henderson — 36 years old, fourth World Cup, record-equalling appearance maker — received a yellow card against Mexico without playing a single minute (for arguing from the bench), then broke his arm falling off an advertising hoarding during the post-match celebrations. He has had surgery. He is out for the tournament.
“He got booked without playing. He got injured without playing. He’s basically achieved more without playing than some players achieve in their entire career,” Dave notes with genuine admiration.
“He’s achieved a yellow card and a broken arm, Dave,” Tel points out.
“Exactly. Iconic.”
Jonny’s AI has calculated that Henderson’s minutes-per-injury ratio is mathematically undefined. Jonny is very excited about this. Sharon has asked if Henderson will still get a medal if England win. Dave says yes. Tel says no. Nobody knows. The uncertainty is killing Dave.
Haaland has seven goals in four games. Kane has six in five. They’re both chasing the Golden Boot. They’re both chasing history. Haaland has scored in fourteen consecutive competitive games for Norway. Kane broke Lineker’s England World Cup goal record against Panama.
“Kane’s got the experience. He’s been here before,” Dave says, tapping his temple.
“Kane’s 32, Dave. Haaland’s 25. Haaland just knocked Brazil out of the World Cup with a brace,” Tel counters.
“Brazil aren’t what they used to be.”
“They were five-time champions, Dave.”
“That was ages ago.”
Jonny’s AI has run the numbers. Pickford has conceded seven of the ten shots on target Haaland has had against him in the Premier League. Jonny has not shared this with Dave. This is a tactical decision. Sharon has said Haaland “looks like he enjoys his food.” Dave says that’s not relevant. Sharon says Kane also enjoys his food. Dave says that’s different. Sharon asks how. Dave says it just is.
Sharon doesn’t watch football. She predicted Foden being dropped. She predicted Ivan Toney being picked because of his “lovely smile.” She has now looked at the Norway squad photo.
“The Norwegian goalkeeper looks nervous,” she announces, swirling her rosé.
“You haven’t seen him play, Sharon,” Dave groans.
“I don’t need to. He looks nervous. And the number 8 — the little one — he looks like he should be in a boy band, not a football match.”
“That’s Ødegaard, Sharon. He’s Arsenal’s captain.”
“Well he should be singing, not playing football. He’ll get tired.”
Tel has noted Sharon’s predictions are currently running at 100% accuracy this tournament. He has not told Dave. Dave would not take it well. Sharon has put £10 on Norway to win 3-2. She does not know why. She says it “felt right.” Jonny’s AI has not commented on this. It is afraid.
The full English breakfast arrived at 9:44am on the first day of the tournament. It went cold at 9:47am when Jonny showed a TikTok. Nobody has noticed it is cold. It has been cold for 54 days. The Bloody Marys are doing well.
“Should we order another full English?” Dave asks.
“The old one is still there, Dave,” Tel points out.
“Is it?”
“It’s been there since May, Dave.”
“Right. Well. It’s traditional now.”
The cold full English has become a metaphor for England’s World Cup campaign: present, technically available, but fundamentally inedible. Sharon has suggested they frame it. Tel has suggested they bin it. Dave has suggested they “see how it goes.”
Meanwhile, the England flag has been on Table 4 since May. Dave claims it is his. Sharon has not disputed this for three consecutive days. The flag has seen England beat New Zealand, Costa Rica, Croatia, Panama, DR Congo, and Mexico. It has also seen Reece James’s hamstring, Livramento’s groin, Quansah’s ankle and red card, and Henderson’s broken arm.
“The flag is lucky, Tel,” Dave insists.
“The flag has seen three injuries and a red card, Dave.”
“But we’re still in the tournament, Tel.”
“Despite the flag, Dave.”
“The flag is lucky polyester, Tel.”
“It’s a piece of polyester from Wolverhampton, Dave.”
Thomas Tuchel has maintained his “we’re not the top favourites” line throughout the tournament. England just beat Mexico 3-2 at the Azteca, down to 10 men, with Bellingham scoring twice in two minutes. They’re in the quarter-final. They’re two wins from the final. Tuchel still won’t say they’re favourites.
“It’s mind games, Tel. He’s keeping them grounded,” Dave says confidently.
“He’s keeping himself grounded, Dave. He’s German. He doesn’t want the pressure.”
“But we beat Mexico at the Azteca! With ten men! Bellingham! Kane! The spirit of ’66!”
“Dave. We were 2-1 down with ten minutes left. We got a penalty. Bellingham scored twice in two minutes. It was chaos.”
“Chaos is a ladder, Tel.”
“That’s Game of Thrones, Dave.”
“Still applies.”
The heat in Miami is expected to be 34°C+. Jonny’s AI accumulator — currently down £340 — predicts England 2-1 Norway, with Kane scoring first and Bellingham getting the winner. Jonny has put £50 on it. Sharon has put £10 on Norway 3-2. She does not know why. She says it “felt right.”
Tonight, the flag will be on Table 4. The Cerveza El Pom will flow. The full English will remain cold. And England will face Norway in the quarter-final of the World Cup, with no right-back, a 36-year-old Henderson watching from a hospital bed, and Erling Haaland — the boy from Leeds — coming home to end it all.
Kick-off: 10pm BST. Hard Rock Stadium, Miami. 34°C. The road to MetLife on 19 July runs through here.
Wednesday 8 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England face Norway in the World Cup Quarter-Final. Erling Haaland has scored 7 goals in 4 games. The Norwegian media are calling us “Poor England”. And Jonny has discovered a statistical anomaly that threatens the very fabric of the universe.
Jonny has not slept. He has been staring at a viral post from @themadridcorner for nine hours. He slides his phone across Table 4, his hand shaking slightly.
“Look at the pattern, Dave. Every time Japan gets eliminated from the World Cup, the team that eliminates the team which knocked out Japan goes on to win the whole tournament. 2002: Turkey beat Japan, Brazil beat Turkey, Brazil won. 2010: Paraguay beat Japan, Spain beat Paraguay, Spain won. 2018: Belgium beat Japan, France beat Belgium, France won. 2022: Croatia beat Japan, Argentina beat Croatia, Argentina won.”
Dave takes a slow sip of his Cerveza El Pom. “And?”
“And in 2026, Japan were eliminated by Brazil. Brazil lost to Norway. If the pattern holds… Norway win the World Cup.” Jonny looks like he might be sick. “But we play Norway next. If we beat them, we break a twenty-four-year cosmic cycle. The universe won’t allow it, Dave. The establishment is one thing, but we can’t fight Japanese voodoo.”
“I don’t care if they’ve got Gandalf playing up front,” Dave replies, entirely unmoved. “We’ve got Jude Bellingham. The only curse Norway are going to face is a two-footed tackle from Declan Rice in the Miami heat. Put the phone away, Jonny. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Tel has retired the Azteca Protocol. It served its purpose. In its place sits a new, thicker black notebook. The Norway Protocol. He adjusts his amber sunglasses and begins to read.
“Erling Haaland. Seven goals in four games. Joint top scorer with Messi and Mbappe. He scored sixteen goals in eight qualifying games. They scored thirty-seven and conceded five. He’s scored in his last fourteen games for Norway. Twenty-seven goals in that run. He scored nine goals in one game against Honduras. Nine, Dave.”
“Honduras isn’t England, Tel,” Dave counters, though his voice lacks its usual booming certainty. “Gary Neville says we’re favourites. He said we were near-perfect defensively against Mexico before the red card.”
“Neville also said Haaland’s header against Gabriel was brilliant,” Tel replies grimly. “The Norwegian paper Dagbladet ran the headline ‘Poor England’ this morning. They think we’re soft. They think we can’t handle the physicality. And tickets are going for six million quid on the resale platform. Six million.”
Sharon arrives, sans Rodrigo. “Rodrigo has gone back to Provence,” she announces, ordering a large glass of rosé. “He said the tactical discourse at this table was too primitive for his brand vision. Also, he’s terrified of Haaland.”
“Good riddance,” Dave mutters. “We don’t need fair-weather fans when the Vikings arrive.”
Despite the Japan Curse, despite the Norway Protocol, despite the terrifying spectre of a blonde Norwegian giant tearing through the England defence, Dave has reached a state of absolute, impenetrable footballing nirvana.
“Think about it,” Dave says, leaning forward, his eyes wide. “We beat Mexico at the Azteca with ten men. Bellingham is the best player in the tournament. Kane is on penalties. We’re playing in Miami, which is basically Benidorm with more alligators. It’s written in the stars.”
Jonny whimpers something about the 2002 Turkey-Brazil coefficient, but Dave ignores him.
“If we beat Norway, we get France or Portugal in the semi-final. We owe France for Qatar. We owe Portugal for 2006. It’s a revenge tour, Tel. Tuchel is a genius. The Delusional Index isn’t just at 100% anymore. It’s broken the scale. It’s coming home. I can feel it in my bones.”
Tuesday 7 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England 3-2 Mexico. The first team ever to beat Mexico at the Azteca in a World Cup. Ten men. A storm delay. Two goals in 98 seconds. Dave was right. The AI was wrong. The streets of England are in chaos. It is coming home.
The hangovers at Table 4 are biblical, matching the thunderstorm that delayed kick-off by an hour. But Dave is not hungover. Dave is running on pure, unadulterated vindication. He has been standing for twenty minutes, recounting the 98 seconds of Jude Bellingham magic to anyone who will listen.
“What did I tell you?” Dave bellows, pointing a sausage at Jonny. “What did I say? I said I had a feeling. I said Tuchel had a plan. I said we don’t fear them. And what did your little Californian microchip say? Seventy-two percent chance of a defensive error? The only error was listening to a machine that doesn’t understand the concept of pashun.”
Jonny is staring at his phone, looking deeply uncomfortable. “Sofia AI is recalibrating its predictive models based on the new data points,” he mutters. “It didn’t account for Bellingham’s xG overperformance at altitude.”
“I want a formal apology from the microchip, Jonny,” Dave demands, taking a triumphant sip of his morning Cerveza El Pom. “I want it in writing. And Tel, you can put that Azteca Protocol dossier in the bin. We’ve conquered the mountain. We’ve conquered the altitude. We’ve conquered the storm. It’s coming home.”
Tel is quiet. He is already scrolling through his phone. “Norway beat Brazil 2-1, Dave. Haaland scored twice. Neymar retired. I’m starting a new dossier.”
Sharon arrives at The Pomeranian Inn wearing a silk blouse that screams ‘Monaco’. Rodrigo is trailing behind her, looking significantly less confident than yesterday. His linen shirt is slightly crumpled. He orders a sparkling water, but he doesn’t ask for lime.
“I must admit,” Rodrigo says, his perfect teeth flashing nervously, “the English double pivot showed surprising resilience in the transition phases. The tactical discipline with ten men was… unexpected.”
Dave laughs. It is a loud, booming, Wolverhampton laugh that echoes across the terrace. “Unexpected? Unexpected? You sat there yesterday, drinking your fizzy water, telling us we were too static. You said we’d be exposed. And what happened? Ten men. Ten men for forty minutes at 7,000 feet, and we still battered them.”
Sharon sighs, adjusting her designer sunglasses. “Leave him alone, Dave. Rodrigo is a brand manager, not a football manager. He’s very stressed about the rosé supply chain.”
“He’s a liability, Sharon,” Dave says, wiping a tear of joy from his eye. “He doesn’t know his xG from his elbow. If he wants to sit at Table 4, he needs to show some respect to Jarell Quansah’s sacrifice.”
Jonny has recovered from the AI humiliation. He has found a new purpose. He is deep in the Reddit threads. The 54th-minute red card for Jarell Quansah has ignited a firestorm.
“Look at the angles, Tel,” Jonny says, shoving his phone across the table. “The referee didn’t even give a foul initially. It took VAR three minutes to intervene. They slowed it down to make the foot look higher than it was. It’s the establishment. They wanted Mexico in the quarters for the TV ratings. They tried to rig it.”
Tel peers at the screen. “It was a high boot, Jonny. He caught Gallardo on the ankle.”
“It’s the same dark forces that gave Ronaldo Man of the Match against Croatia!” Jonny insists, his voice rising. “They knew we were too strong. They knew Bellingham was unplayable. So they took out our centre-back. But they failed. The beautiful game won.”
Dave nods solemnly. “For once, Jonny, you might be right. They threw the altitude at us. They threw a thunderstorm at us. They threw a red card at us. And we still won. We are massive.”
Monday 6 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England vs Mexico. Round of 16. 87,000 hostile fans. 7,220 feet above sea level. The UK media is terrified. The AI is predicting defeat. But Dave has a feeling. It’s coming home.
The full English breakfasts have been cleared. The morning warm-up of Cerveza El Pom has begun. It is fifteen hours until kick-off. The tension at Table 4 is thick enough to cut with a butter knife. Jonny is staring at his phone, his face pale beneath his bucket hat.
“Sofia AI has run ten thousand simulations of the match,” Jonny announces, his voice barely a whisper. “It factored in the 7,220-foot altitude. It factored in Mexico’s 70 wins in 89 games at the Azteca. It factored in Djed Spence at right-back. It says Mexico are the favourites. It says we lose 2-1.”
Dave slams his pint glass down on the wooden table. “Your AI is biased, Jonny. It’s probably programmed in California. What does a computer know about passion? What does a microchip know about Harry Kane dropping deep to dictate play? It’s just numbers. Football isn’t played on a spreadsheet. It’s played on grass.”
Tel is completely silent. He hasn’t spoken for twenty minutes. He is staring into the middle distance, his amber-tinted sunglasses pushed up on his forehead. He knows. The Azteca Protocol dossier sits closed in front of him. He knows what the numbers mean. He knows Marc Guéhi admitted in a press conference yesterday that Mexico are the favourites. He knows Reece James missed the final training session.
“I’ve got a good feeling about tonight, lads,” Dave says, leaning back and crossing his arms, entirely unbothered by the impending doom. “I can feel it in my bones. Tuchel has a plan. We’re going to make it boring. We’re going to frustrate them. And then Jude Bellingham is going to do something magic. It’s coming home.”
Sharon has finally returned to The Pomeranian Inn. But she is not the Sharon who left. The leopard print is gone. The oversized sunglasses are gone. She is wearing a tailored linen suit, a silk scarf, and an expression of devastating European sophistication. She looks like she owns a vineyard in Provence. Which, technically, she now does.
But the real problem is the man standing next to her. He is twenty-five years old. He is Spanish. He has perfect teeth, a linen shirt unbuttoned to the sternum, and a gold chain. His name is Rodrigo.
“Boys,” Sharon says, her accent suddenly carrying a faint, inexplicable French lilt. “I want you to meet Rodrigo. He is my new brand manager for the rosé launch. Lorenzo was too… provincial. Rodrigo understands the global vision.”
Dave’s face turns the colour of a post-box. He stares at Rodrigo. Rodrigo smiles, revealing teeth that belong in a toothpaste commercial, and orders a sparkling water with a slice of lime. Not a Cerveza El Pom. A sparkling water.
“Rodrigo thinks England’s midfield pivot is too static for the modern game,” Sharon adds casually, taking a seat. “He says Tuchel’s reliance on a double pivot will be exposed by Mexico’s transitions at altitude.”
Dave looks like he is going to explode. “What does Rodrigo know about a double pivot?” Dave demands, pointing a thick finger at the Spanish youth. “Has Rodrigo ever seen Declan Rice track back on a wet Tuesday in Stoke? No. He’s drinking fizzy water in a pub. He’s a liability, Sharon.”
Tel has finally spoken. He is reading the UK media round-up from his phone. It makes for grim reading. The England squad were booed and chanted at upon arrival at their Mexico City hotel. Thomas Tuchel has had to laugh off suggestions that England “haven’t played anybody yet.” Reece James missed the final training session and is doubtful. Jamie Carragher has warned that England will struggle on the wings.
“The bookies can’t even call it, Dave,” Tel says, shaking his head. “FanDuel has England at +135 and Mexico at +220. Yahoo Sports says it’s a coin toss. The Athletic’s expert has predicted a 2-1 Mexico win. They haven’t lost a competitive game there in thirteen years. The last time England played at 7,000 feet was 1986. The Hand of God.”
Dave takes a long sip of his pint. “Alan Shearer says we won’t fear them, Tel. I read it on the BBC. Shearer knows. He scored thirty goals a season. If Shearer says we don’t fear them, we don’t fear them. Tuchel is going to park the bus, make it boring, and Kane will nick one in the 88th minute. It’s written in the stars.”
Jonny looks up from his AI app. “Sofia says there’s a 72% chance of a defensive error leading to a goal due to oxygen deprivation in the final twenty minutes.”
“Turn that phone off, Jonny,” Dave snaps. “Before I throw it in the Mediterranean.”
Sunday 5 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England vs Mexico. Round of 16. 87,000 hostile fans. 7,220 feet above sea level. The statistics are terrifying. The altitude is suffocating. The delusion is reaching critical mass.
Jonny has not blinked for forty-five minutes. He is staring at his phone, surrounded by empty bottles of Cerveza El Pom, descending into a terrifying vortex of algorithmic paranoia. The catalyst was last night’s Portugal versus Croatia match. Joško Gvardiol scored a 93rd-minute equaliser, only for VAR to disallow it because the ball allegedly brushed a single follicle of his hair. FIFA’s new ‘Snicko’ audio sensor detected the microscopic friction. Portugal won 2-1. Ronaldo scored a penalty — his 900th career goal — was subbed off, and was then named Man of the Match.
“It’s the establishment, Tel,” Jonny whispers, his voice trembling. “They want Ronaldo to win it. He got Man of the Match last night. He was subbed off! He didn’t even play the last twenty minutes! Rafa Leão was unbelievable, but Ronaldo gets the award because of online fan votes. It’s a popularity contest rigged by dark forces.”
Tel sighs, adjusting his glasses. “Jonny, it’s just a bad VAR call. It happens.”
“No, it’s a pattern!” Jonny insists, jabbing his screen. “Look at varsenal.co.uk. The same dark forces that stop Arsenal winning the Premier League are operating at the World Cup. The establishment controls VAR. They controlled it against Arsenal. They controlled it against Croatia. And Sofia AI has found the ultimate proof. The Simpsons predicted it in 1997. Season nine, episode five. A Mexico versus Portugal final. The prophecy is fulfilling itself. We are just pawns in a pre-written script.”
Tel leans back, arms folded. He is not convinced. But he is listening. There is a long pause at Table 4.
Dave takes a long, defiant sip of his pint of Cerveza El Pom. He stares out towards the Benidorm promenade. “No one is above the game, Jonny,” he says quietly. “The beautiful game always wins.” Another pause. “England never win.”
Sharon is completely off the grid. She has not posted a TikTok in fourteen hours. She has not updated her Instagram story. She has not responded to the WhatsApp group chat. Dave has tried calling her four times. It goes straight to voicemail. The empty chair where she usually sits — nursing a Cerveza El Pom Rosé Edition — is beginning to feel like a monument to abandonment.
“She’s probably just resting,” Dave says, staring at the empty chair. “The heat affects everyone differently. Even at sea level.”
Tel looks up from his dossier. “She’s with Lorenzo, Dave. They went to look at a potential pop-up venue for the rosé launch.”
Dave’s jaw tightens. “He wears loafers without socks, Tel. You cannot trust a man who doesn’t respect the structural integrity of a good sock. He’s probably filling her head with nonsense about Tuchel lacking passione.” Dave looks at his phone again. Still no reply. The hunk from Provence has infiltrated Table 4, and Dave is powerless to stop it.
The statistics from Tel’s dossier are now splashed across every major news outlet in Britain. Sky Sports’ Paul Merson has declared that “no Mexico player gets in the England team,” but admitted the 7,000-foot altitude is “mind-blowing.” Sol Campbell has warned that players parachuted in will have their energy “sapped.” Tuchel has officially complained to FIFA, stating it is “impossible” for England to adapt to the climate in three days. The Guardian is running a live analysis. The Daily Mail has a countdown clock to kick-off. The Mirror has declared a Bank Holiday Monday for the 1am start. TalkSPORT is in meltdown.
Tel taps the thick, terrifying document on the table. “They’ve played 89 competitive games there, Dave. They’ve won 70. Drawn 17. Lost two. The last time they lost was thirteen years ago. No World Cup team has ever beaten them there. The last time England played at 7,000 feet was 1986. Against Argentina. The Hand of God. It’s all in the dossier.”
Dave hasn’t read the dossier. He refuses to read the dossier. “Sheffield Wednesday won there in 1967, Tel. If Sheffield Wednesday can do it, Jude Bellingham can do it. It’s just grass and goalposts. The air is the same everywhere if you breathe hard enough.”
Jonny has found the Opta graphic. Mexico's competitive record at the Estadio Azteca: 70 wins, 17 draws, 2 losses. In 89 games, they have lost twice. Costa Rica in 2001. Honduras in 2013. Both times 2-1. Both times national crises.
Tel stares at the numbers. “They have lost twice in the history of competitive football at this stadium. We struggled to beat DR Congo. We have Djed Spence at right-back.”
Dave is entirely unbothered. “Costa Rica and Honduras, Tel. We are better than Costa Rica and Honduras. If Honduras can win there, Harry Kane can score a hat-trick there. It's just maths.”
Tel closes his eyes. “Costa Rica and Honduras were also better than England at the Azteca, Dave. They are acclimatised. We are not.”
Jonny's AI, Sofia, has been running simulations all night. The problem is 7,220 feet. The solution requires three weeks. England have had four days.
“I'm asking it for loopholes,” Jonny says, jabbing at his screen. “Can they drink beetroot juice? Can they sleep in hyperbaric chambers? What if they just hold their breath during the warm-up?”
Sofia AI responds: “There are no physiological shortcuts. England players will experience a 15-20% reduction in VO2 max. Expect severe fatigue after 60 minutes. Win probability drops to 14% if the game goes to extra time.”
Dave scoffs. “Nonsense. Kane doesn't need oxygen. He scores goals. You don't need to breathe to tap it in from six yards. We're going to batter them.”
Sharon has returned from the Cerveza El Pom Rosé Edition shoot in Provence. She is wearing a silk scarf and oversized sunglasses. She is accompanied by a man named Lorenzo. Lorenzo is wearing a linen suit and loafers without socks. He is Sharon's new agent.
“Lorenzo says the Azteca is very dry,” Sharon announces, taking a seat. “He says the players should moisturise at half-time. He knows a lot about football. He used to date a woman whose brother played for AC Milan.”
Dave is staring at Lorenzo with pure, unadulterated hatred. “We don't moisturise at half-time, Sharon. We drink water and we listen to Tuchel.”
Lorenzo smiles. “Ah, Tuchel. Very rigid. Very German. He lacks... passione.” Dave looks like he is going to explode.
Tel closes the Azteca Protocol dossier. He has spent three days studying Mexican tactical transitions at high altitude. He has reached a conclusion.
“If we try to play a low block, we will suffocate,” Tel says, his voice deadly serious. “If we try to press high, we will collapse after 45 minutes. The only way to win this game is to score early and pray the referee blows the whistle before our lungs give out.”
Dave takes a long sip of Cerveza El Pom. “You worry too much, Tel. We've got Kane. We've got Bellingham. We've got Rice. They've got a bloke who plays for West Ham. It's coming home.”
Tel looks at Dave. “Dave. We are playing Mexico. In Mexico City. At 7,200 feet. In front of 87,000 people who want to see us destroyed. It is not coming home today. Today is about survival.”
Thursday 2 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England beat DR Congo 2-1. It was dreadful. Pickford was beaten at his near post. The right-back channel collapsed. Kane scored two late goals to save the nation. Now, Mexico at the Azteca. 7,200 feet. 87,000 hostile fans. The World Cup starts now.
England 2-1 DR Congo. It took 75 minutes for Harry Kane to equalise, and 86 minutes to win it. Before that, it was a horror show. The full English breakfast at Table 4 is being consumed in near silence. The Cerveza El Pom is flowing, but the celebration feels hollow.
Dave is the only one projecting confidence. “We got the job done, Tel. That’s what tournament football is. You grind it out. We’ve got Kane. We’ve got Bellingham. I don’t know a single player in the Mexico squad, which means they must be rubbish.”
Tel cuts a sausage in half. “We were outplayed by a team ranked 63rd in the world for an hour, Dave. We have no right-back. Our goalkeeper is being slaughtered by Alan Shearer. And we are about to play Mexico in Mexico City.”
Dave takes a bite of toast. “Shearer’s just bitter because Kane broke his record. Pickford is fine. The curse is lifted. We are massive.” Deep down, Dave knows. They all know. The easy run is over. The World Cup starts now.
The pub TV is showing the morning papers. Goal.com gave Pickford 3/10. Football365 called the right-back situation a “terrible oversight.” Alan Shearer is on BBC News saying Pickford should have saved Cipenga’s near-post strike.
Tel reads from the Guardian: “Spence was caught in no-man’s land. Konsa and Guehi look like strangers. Wissa wandered in unmarked to hit the post.” He looks up. “We are going to the Azteca with a defence that cannot communicate with each other.”
Dave points aggressively at the TV. “Pickford is England’s greatest ever keeper! He saved a penalty against Colombia in 2018! He’s allowed one mistake! And Spence did his best. It’s not his fault he plays left-back for Spurs.”
Jonny looks up from his phone. “Wayne Rooney says he has big concerns and warns we will go out.” Dave throws a napkin at him. “Rooney manages Plymouth. What does he know about the Azteca?”
Sharon is leaving. She has a designer suitcase and oversized sunglasses. Cerveza El Pom has flown her out for a PR shoot at their new vineyard in Provence. She is officially the face of Cerveza El Pom Rosé Edition.
“I’ve fired Lucy,” Sharon announces, adjusting her silk scarf. “She booked Ryanair. I’m looking for a new agent. Someone who understands my brand. Preferably a hunk. I’ll be back for the Mexico game, assuming my new agent doesn’t book me a yacht tour of Monaco.”
Dave watches her go. He has spent 36 years following England across the globe. He has slept on airport floors in Volgograd. He has been tear-gassed in Marseille. His greatest reward is a laminated bracket and a mild sunburn. Sharon downloaded TikTok three weeks ago and is now flying to a French chateau.
“Bring me back some cheese,” Dave mutters into his pint. Sharon does not hear him. She is already on the phone to a man named Lorenzo.
Tel is working on the Azteca dossier. He has a red pen. He is circling the number 7,220. That is the altitude of the Estadio Azteca in feet. Thomas Tuchel has just given a press conference where he stated it is “impossible” for England to adapt to the climate in four days.
“Medical science dictates optimal acclimatisation at 2,500 metres requires three weeks,” Tel reads from the dossier. “We have four days. We are going to be playing against 87,000 Mexicans while breathing through a straw.”
Jonny is frantically typing into Sofia AI. “I’m asking it for shortcuts. There must be a bio-hack. Beetroot juice? Sleeping in a hyperbaric chamber? Holding your breath while watching EastEnders?”
Sofia AI responds: “There are no physiological shortcuts to altitude acclimatisation. England players will experience a 15–20% reduction in VO2 max. Expect severe fatigue after 60 minutes.”
Dave snatches the phone. “Nonsense. Kane doesn’t need oxygen. He scores goals. You don’t need to breathe to tap it in from six yards. We’re going to batter them.” Dave takes a long, deep breath of sea-level Benidorm air. He is terrified.
Wednesday 1 July 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England vs DR Congo is hours away. But the delusion is cracking. France are unstoppable. Mexico are waiting at the Azteca. And an ugly, unspoken truth is hanging over the full English breakfast.
The teamsheet arrives. Dave holds it up like a man reading a will he suspects is not in his favour. Table 4 studies it in silence. The Cerveza El Pom has been flowing since 9am. Clarity is not guaranteed.
PICKFORD (1) — Fine. Nobody argues about Pickford anymore. He saved a penalty against Croatia. He is the most competent person in this squad at their specific job. Dave rates him.
KONSA (2) — Playing right-back. He is a centre-back. He has never played right-back professionally. Tuchel has looked at the entire England squad and concluded that a centre-back who has never played right-back is the best available option. This is the right-back crisis made flesh.
O’REILLY (3) — Who? Dave Googled him. He is 22. He plays for Celtic. He has 4 Premier League appearances. He is starting a World Cup knockout game. Dave has gone very quiet.
RICE (4) — The one genuinely world-class player in this team. Tel agrees. Jonny’s AI agrees. Sharon once called him “the bald one who runs a lot.” She is not wrong.
GUEHI (6) — Solid. No complaints. Dave says he should have been in the squad earlier. Dave said this in 2024 as well. Dave was right then too.
ANDERSON (8) — Nottingham Forest. Tuchel clearly rates him. Dave does not know enough about him to have a strong opinion, which for Dave is essentially a glowing endorsement.
KANE (9) © — The captain. The record-breaker. The man who missed a sitter against Ghana. The man who was cursed by a Ghanaian witch doctor and has since been released. Dave is backing him. Dave has always backed him. Dave will back him until the final whistle of the last game England ever play. This is not a criticism. This is a love story.
BELLINGHAM (10) — The only player who would get into the French team. Possibly on the bench. Dave does not want to discuss this.
RASHFORD (11) — Back in the squad after being dropped. Tuchel recalled him. Dave said he should never have been dropped. Dave also said he should have been dropped. Both statements were made in the same week in March.
MADUEKE (20) — Chelsea. Quick. Direct. Has a shot. Dave: “He’s a bit like a young Robben, but English.” Tel says nothing.
SPENCE (25) — Djed Spence. Playing right-back. Plays left-back at Spurs. Has not started a competitive game of note in two years. Is starting a World Cup Round of 32 game. The right-back crisis has a name and it is Djed Spence.
The Pomeranian Verdict
Tel: “This is a team that could beat DR Congo. It is also a team that could lose to DR Congo. Both outcomes are equally plausible.”
Dave: “We’ve got Kane, Bellingham and Rice. That’s three world-class players. France only have about four. We’re basically France.”
Jonny’s AI: “England win probability: 61%. Significant structural vulnerability at right-back. Konsa and Spence create an exploitable channel on the right flank.”
Sharon, looking up from her phone: “Is Rashford the one with the free school meals? I like him.”
The news drops at 2:50pm. Table 4 is six hours deep into the Cerveza El Pom. Sharon is on her third bottle of rosé. The atmosphere was already fragile after the France result. Now, it has completely shattered.
Sky Sports breaking news: Reece James is out with a hamstring injury. Jarell Quansah twisted his ankle against Panama. Tino Livramento went home before the tournament started. England are going into a World Cup knockout game without a single recognised right-back.
“Djed Spence,” Jonny reads from his phone, his voice trembling slightly. “Tuchel is going to play Djed Spence. Or move Ezri Konsa across. Sky Sports says they don’t know which plan they’re on. They’ve gone through plans A through E.”
Dave stares at the table. There are fourteen empty Cerveza El Pom bottles arranged in a loose 4-2-3-1 formation. He slowly knocks the right-back bottle over. It rolls off the table and shatters on the Benidorm pavement.
“We are playing a winger at left-back, and now we have no right-back,” Tel says quietly, closing the Azteca Protocol dossier. “Kaveh Solhekol on Sky Sports said it is a real concern going into the knockout stages without a specialist full-back. He said that. On television.”
Dave looks up, his eyes glassy with six hours of premium lager and pure terror. “It’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll just play three at the back. We’ve got Kane. We’ve got passion. The curse has been lifted.” Nobody believes him. Not even Dave. Two hours and ten minutes to kick-off.
Overnight in New York, France beat Sweden 3-0. Olise, Barcola, and Mbappé. Mbappé now has 18 World Cup goals, drawing level with Messi. The Athletic called them “absurdly talented.” The Guardian ranked them number one.
Table 4 is watching the highlights in silence. The full English breakfasts have arrived, but nobody is eating. There is an ugly truth hanging over the table, a question nobody wants to ask out loud: How many English players would get into this French team?
Jonny breaks the silence. “Sofia AI says Bellingham makes their bench. That’s it. Just Jude. On the bench. Behind Griezmann.”
Dave pushes a mushroom around his plate. He does not mention 1966. He does not mention Harry Kane’s Bundesliga record. He just stares at the screen as Mbappé accelerates past three Swedish defenders without breaking a sweat. “It’s just pace, Jonny,” Dave mutters weakly. “Pace isn’t everything.”
The other overnight result: Mexico 2-0 Ecuador. Quiñones and Jiménez. The Estadio Azteca was bouncing. 87,000 fans going absolutely wild. If England beat DR Congo today, they play Mexico in the Round of 16. At the Azteca.
Tel slides THE AZTECA PROTOCOL across the table. “7,200 feet above sea level, Dave. The air is 25% thinner. We struggled to breathe in Boston, and Boston is at sea level. We have never won a competitive match at the Azteca.”
Dave traces the route on his laminated bracket. Mexico. Then Brazil. Then Argentina. Then France. The delusion is finally cracking under the sheer weight of geographical and tactical reality.
“We just need to keep it tight,” Dave says, his voice lacking its usual booming certainty. “A low block. Frustrate them. Take the crowd out of the game.” Tel sighs. “You cannot take 87,000 Mexicans out of the game with a low block, Dave. They will simply boo louder.”
Sharon has fired Lucy from The Dog & Duck. The helicopter clause was successfully negotiated with Cerveza El Pom, but Lucy failed to realise that the vineyard is near Bordeaux, not Nice. The helicopter would have run out of fuel over Montpellier.
“She’s brilliant with people, but she’s rubbish with geography,” Sharon explains, scrolling through Instagram. “I need a proper agent now. Someone from London. A hunk. Someone who knows about brand synergy and rosé varietals.”
Dave stares at her. England are facing the most terrifying knockout route in World Cup history, and Sharon is treating the tournament as a networking event for her burgeoning wine career.
“Sharon,” Dave says, his voice tight. “We are playing DR Congo in seven hours. If we lose, we go home.” Sharon doesn’t look up. “I’m not going home, Dave. I’m going to Provence. Try to keep up.”
While Tel has been preparing for Mexico, he has harboured a nagging fear about today’s opponents. He asked Jonny to run a background check on the DR Congo backroom staff. Sofia AI has been running overnight via the Leeds VPN.
“Tel,” Jonny says, his face pale. “Sofia found something. The DR Congo football association officially employs a ‘traditional medicine practitioner’. He travelled with the squad to Atlanta.”
Tel closes the Azteca dossier. The tactical analysis is suddenly irrelevant. The Ghanaian curse on Harry Kane was lifted, but a new, Central African hex may already be in place. The Cerveza El Poms remain untouched on the table.
“Right,” Dave says, standing up abruptly. “That’s it. I’m getting the first round in. We need to lubricate the passion. No witch doctor can curse a man who’s had four pints before midday.” The delusion is fighting back. Kick-off is approaching.
Tuesday 30 June 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. Germany are out. The Netherlands are out. Brazil survived by a 95th-minute miracle. The big teams are collapsing, and a dangerous, intoxicating delusion is taking root at Table 4.
The news broke overnight from Boston. Germany 1-1 Paraguay. Penalties. Jonathan Tah missed. The four-time World Champions are going home in the Round of 32.
Dave has not sat down since 8:15am. He is pacing around Table 4, waving his phone at anyone who makes eye contact. The dread of the Azteca has vanished, replaced by a sudden, terrifying surge of national superiority.
“They’re gone, Tel! The Germans are gone! Knocked out by a country famous for soup and landlocked borders!” Dave shouts, spilling a drop of his morning Cerveza El Pom. “And we’re still here. We topped the group. We are massive.”
Tel adjusts his sunglasses. “We had 25 touches against Panama, Dave. We are playing DR Congo tomorrow. We are not massive. We are merely present.”
An hour later, Monterrey delivers another seismic shock. The Netherlands, leading 1-0 through Cody Gakpo, concede a 92nd-minute equaliser to Morocco’s Issa Diop. It goes to penalties. Kluivert hits the post. Timber shoots wide. The Dutch are out.
Jonny reads the stats aloud from Sofia AI. “That is their eighth penalty shootout loss in history. Third consecutive World Cup exit on penalties. Sofia says the probability of both Germany and the Netherlands exiting in the Round of 32 was 4.2%.”
Dave is now vibrating with a dangerous, intoxicating energy. The logic is flawless in his mind: if the good teams are playing badly and losing, and England are playing badly and winning, then England are destined to win the entire tournament.
“It’s written in the stars, lads,” Dave declares, tapping the table. “The big boys are crumbling under the pressure. But we thrive in the mud. We are built for dreadful football.”
The pub TV replays the Brazil vs Japan highlights. Japan led for an hour. Brazil looked sluggish, disjointed, and old. They needed a 95th-minute Gabriel Martinelli scramble to avoid the ultimate humiliation.
Dave produces a thick black marker pen. He pulls the laminated knockout bracket toward him. He draws a heavy, aggressive line straight through the word BRAZIL in the quarter-final slot.
“They’re finished,” Dave announces, capping the pen. “Casemiro is running in treacle. They needed a stoppage-time tap-in to beat Japan. If we get past Congo, and we survive the Azteca, we will absolutely batter that Brazilian retirement home in Miami.”
Tel closes his eyes and rubs his temples. “Dave. We drew 0-0 with Ghana. We cannot string three passes together. You are crossing out five-time World Champions with a Sharpie because they had one bad game.”
While the global football order collapses, Sharon is entirely insulated from the chaos. Her new agent, Lucy from The Dog & Duck, has escalated negotiations with Cerveza El Pom regarding the Provence vineyard trip.
“Lucy says I can’t fly commercial anymore because of my brand value,” Sharon tells the table, examining her nails. “She’s asked them for a helicopter from Nice airport. And a daily allowance for artisanal cheese.”
Jonny looks up from his AI predictions. “Sharon, Germany just got knocked out by Paraguay.”
“That’s nice, babes,” Sharon replies, taking a sip of her drink. “Do you think a helicopter ruins your hair? Lucy says I should ask for a silk headscarf clause.”
The manic optimism of the morning is beginning to wear off, replaced by the familiar, creeping dread of an impending England knockout match. The reality of the situation is slowly dawning on Table 4.
Tel opens the first page of the Azteca Protocol dossier. He points to the DR Congo squad list. “Yoane Wissa. Chancel Mbemba. Arthur Masuaku. They beat Uzbekistan 3-1. They are fast, they are physical, and they do not care that Harry Kane scored a lot of goals in Germany.”
Dave stares at the squad list. The bravado from the Germany exit is fading. The memory of the 0-0 draw against Ghana returns. The realisation hits him: if the big teams can fall to average opposition, then an average England team can absolutely fall to DR Congo.
“Right,” Dave says quietly, the Sharpie marker forgotten on the table. “We need to respect the Congo, Tel. We need to keep it tight at the back. No silly mistakes.” The delusion has paused. The fear has arrived. Tomorrow is matchday.
Sunday 28 June 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England beat Panama 2-0. Kane broke the record. Bellingham saved the day. But Table 4 has just looked at the knockout bracket, and the delusion has evaporated.
England topped Group L. They beat Panama 2-0. Harry Kane scored his 11th World Cup goal, breaking Gary Lineker’s record. Jude Bellingham was magnificent. By all traditional metrics, The Pomeranian Inn should be bouncing.
It is not bouncing. Dave is pushing a hash brown around his plate with the enthusiasm of a man attending a tax audit. The first half was dreadful. Morgan Rogers, the supposed saviour, was hooked early. Jarell Quansah rolled his ankle and limped off. Reece James is still injured.
“We got the job done, Dave,” Tel offers, trying to inject some perspective. “Top of the group. Clean sheet.”
Dave does not look up. “We had 25 touches in their box, Tel. Against Panama. My nan could get 25 touches against Panama, and she’s had two hip replacements.”
The pub TV is cycling through the morning papers and Sky Sports player ratings. The consensus is clear: Jude Bellingham (9/10) is carrying the entire nation on his back. Everyone else is a passenger.
Quansah gets a 4/10. Rogers gets a 5/10. Kane gets a 7/10 purely for the record-breaking goal, despite being a “bystander” for the first 45 minutes. Thomas Tuchel’s post-match quote is looping on the ticker: “The bigger the game, the bigger England will be.”
“He’s right,” Dave says, suddenly finding a shred of optimism. “We play to the level of the opposition. We were bored against Panama. When we play a proper team, we’ll turn it on. That’s what world-class teams do.”
Tel reaches into his bag. “About that, Dave. Have you looked at the bracket?”
For the last two tournaments, England have enjoyed famously generous knockout routes. Senegal, Colombia, Sweden, Ukraine. Dave had assumed this tradition would continue. Tel places a newly laminated bracket on the table.
Round of 32: DR Congo in Atlanta. Fine.
Round of 16: Mexico or Ecuador. At the Estadio Azteca. In Mexico City. 87,000 hostile fans. 7,200 feet above sea level. Smog. Heat.
Quarter-final: Brazil in Miami.
Semi-final: Argentina in Atlanta.
Dave stares at the laminate. The colour drains from his face. He traces the line with his sausage-thick finger. “Mexico at the Azteca... then Brazil... then Messi?”
“Yes, Dave,” Tel says quietly. “We cannot play a low block against Brazil. We cannot rely on a witch doctor to curse Vinicius Junior.”
The delusion is entirely gone. The reality of the 2026 World Cup has finally arrived at Table 4. There are no easy games left. There is only altitude, South American flair, and a right-back crisis.
Tel reaches into his bag again. He pulls out a binder twice as thick as the Ghana dossier. The cover reads: THE AZTECA PROTOCOL: SURVIVING ALTITUDE AND HOSTILITY.
Jonny is frantically asking Sofia AI for the historical win rate of European teams playing at the Estadio Azteca. Sofia replies with a single red warning triangle. Sharon is oblivious, arguing with Lucy on FaceTime about whether she needs a bodyguard for her Provence wine tour.
Dave takes a long, slow sip of his Cerveza El Pom. “Right,” he says, his voice trembling slightly. “Congo first. One game at a time, Tel. One game at a time.”
Friday 26 June 2026. The Pomeranian Inn. England play Panama tomorrow. Reece James has a tight hamstring. Tel has a new dossier. Jonny is trying to contact Accra. Sharon is hiring an agent from Wolverhampton.
The media noise has shifted from pure fury to tactical panic. Reece James has a tight hamstring and missed training. Declan Rice was seen limping with heavy calf strapping after the Ghana game, though Eberechi Eze has since confirmed he is fit to play. Gary Neville is demanding Morgan Rogers starts on the left instead of Anthony Gordon. Alan Shearer expects three changes.
Dave is reading the Sky Sports live blog. He is not concerned about the hamstring. He is concerned about Thomas Tuchel’s press conference, in which the manager complained that hydration breaks “interrupt and change the identity of the football match, much more than I thought.”
To Dave, this is a sign of weakness. “It’s a bit of water, Tel. You drink it, you run about. What identity? We didn’t have an identity against Ghana, we had 79% possession and zero shots on target.”
Tel points out that Panama are already eliminated after losing 1-0 to Croatia. Dave says this makes them more dangerous because they have “nothing to lose.” Tel sighs.
Tel’s stock has risen exponentially since Wednesday. He predicted the low block. He predicted the heat struggle. He predicted Kane would miss a sitter. Dave no longer views Tel as a pessimist; he views him as a tactical oracle.
At 12:15pm, Tel slides a new, 40-page document across the table. The cover reads: PANAMA: THE DEAD RUBBER THREAT.
Dave leans in. “What does it say, Tel? Are they going to sit deep? Is Rogers going to start? Has the curse definitely been lifted?”
Tel opens to page 3. “They are ranked 33rd in the world, Dave. They are already out. If we cannot beat a team whose primary tactical instruction is ‘try not to concede six like in 2018’, then we do not deserve to be here.” Dave nods solemnly, as if this is the most profound football analysis he has ever heard. Is Tel a master tactical genius? Or was the Ghana dossier pure luck? Tel is not saying either way.
Jonny is not convinced the curse has been fully lifted. He believes LADbible may have mistranslated the mystic’s statement. He is currently using Sofia — the AI that cost him £60 on Tuesday — to cross-reference flight records, local Accra news reports, and spiritual energy maps.
“I just want to have a quiet word with him, Dave,” Jonny explains, tapping his screen. “Just to make sure. If he’s only lifted the curse on Kane, what about Gordon? What about Pickford? We need a blanket release clause.”
Sofia has currently geolocated the mystic to a suburb of Accra, but is refusing to initiate contact due to “violation of safety guidelines regarding supernatural interference.” Jonny is trying to jailbreak the AI using a VPN routed through Leeds.
The Cerveza El Pom Rosé Edition contract is proving complicated. Sharon got confused with the flights to Provence. She accidentally booked a Ryanair flight to Nice, but the vineyard is near Bordeaux. Her mum told her she needs professional representation.
Sharon has decided to hire her mate Lucy, who works behind the bar at The Dog & Duck in Wolverhampton. According to Sharon, Lucy is “brilliant with people” and “once got a bouncer sacked for looking at her funny.”
Lucy is currently on FaceTime, advising Sharon to demand a per diem for croissants. Dave is staring into his pint. He has spent 36 years following England around the globe and his greatest achievement is a sunburn. Sharon has been here two weeks, doesn’t know the offside rule, and is currently negotiating international image rights with a barmaid from Wolverhampton. The Cerveza El Pom Rosé Edition bottle sits on the table between them. Dave does not touch it.
Wednesday 24 June 2026. 09:30am. The Pomeranian Inn. The atmosphere at Table 4 is muted. The media are calling it “Southgate all over again.” Tel knows it isn’t. Jonny thinks the machines are against us. Sharon is looking at flights to Nice.
The muted atmosphere at Table 4 has evaporated. Dave has found the answer. It wasn’t the heat. It wasn’t the low block. It wasn’t Tel’s “Club Illusion.” Harry Kane was cursed by a Ghanaian witch doctor.
Dave is currently shoving his phone into Tel’s face. The screen shows a LADbible post: “A Ghanaian witch doctor who put ‘curse’ on Harry Kane has responded after claiming the footballer would have goalless game.” The quote below it reads: “I am now going to release Harry Kane so that he can score in the next match for England.”
To Dave, this explains everything. It explains the 19 touches. It explains the ballooned sitter. It also explains why Anthony Gordon looked completely hopeless on the left wing — Dave assumes the curse had an area-of-effect radius that caught Gordon in the crossfire. Tel is rubbing his temples, trying to explain that a witch doctor in Accra did not force Gordon to run the ball out of play four times. Dave is not listening.
Jonny’s AI is now working overtime. He is frantically asking Sofia if she can calculate the Expected Goals (xG) of a player who has recently been released from a West African hex. Sofia is struggling to process the prompt.
“He’s been released, Tel! The curse is lifted! Panama are going to get absolutely battered!” — Dave, 10:48am, fully back on the hype train.
It is 9:30am in Benidorm. The sun is shining. The Cerveza El Poms are on the table. The full English breakfasts have arrived. But nobody is speaking.
The atmosphere at Table 4 is entirely muted. The euphoria of the Croatia win feels like it happened in a different decade. Dave is pushing a sausage around his plate with a fork, staring blankly at the pub television. He has not mentioned the laminated bracket once this morning. He has not mentioned Harry Kane equaling Gary Lineker’s record. He has not mentioned 1966.
The reality of 79% possession, three shots on target, and a 0-0 draw against Ghana has finally settled over The Pomeranian Inn. England are still top of Group L with four points. They only need a draw against Panama on Saturday to guarantee progression. But the mood has fundamentally shifted. The delusion has been temporarily suspended.
“Pass the brown sauce, Tel.” — Dave, 09:34am, the only tactical instruction he has issued all morning.
The pub television is tuned to Talksport, and Talksport is furious. Adrian Durham has just delivered his player ratings. He gave Jordan Pickford a 1/10, calling it a “ridiculous performance.” He gave Thomas Tuchel a 2/10. He gave Harry Kane a 2/10, noting that the captain had just 19 touches in the entire match and “ballooned a sitter over the bar.”
The narrative forming in the media is that this is “Southgate all over again.” They are accusing Tuchel of being too conservative, too cautious, too afraid to take the handbrake off. They are demanding to know why England looked so slow and devoid of ideas against a team sitting in a low block.
Ghana manager Carlos Queiroz poured salt in the wound during his post-match press conference, stating calmly: “We knew we had England at half-time mentally and physically.” When asked about this, Harry Kane replied that everyone was “pretty calm” and that they just needed to “move the ball a bit quicker.” Talksport did not find this reassuring.
“What a load of rubbish that was. I just wonder why we bother.” — Adrian Durham, Talksport, echoing the exact sentiments of Table 4.
While Talksport blames the manager, Tel knows the truth. He has known the truth for months. He opens the Ghana Dossier to page 18 and taps it with his index finger. The page is titled: “The Club Illusion.”
Tel’s analysis is brutal but accurate. The media thinks this is a tactical failure, a repeat of the Southgate era. It isn’t. The problem is much simpler: the players are not as good as everyone thinks they are. At club level, they are surrounded by genuinely world-class talent — the Rodris, the De Bruynes, the Salahs — who make them look exceptional. But when you take those players away, and you try to build a team with one or two genuinely elite players and nine very average ones, you get exactly what happened last night.
Dave refuses to accept this. To Dave, every English player who starts for a top-six Premier League club is automatically world-class. Dave believes that Anthony Gordon is basically a Geordie Vinicius Junior. Tel’s dossier explicitly warned that against a disciplined low block, this lack of genuine elite quality would be exposed. Dave didn’t listen. Dave never listens.
“They’re system players, Dave. Take them out of the system, and they’re just blokes running around in the heat.” — Tel, 10:05am, delivering the hardest truth of the tournament.
Jonny is in a state of deep technological paranoia. Last night, his new AI — “Sofia, Your AI Friend” — predicted a 4-0 England win and a Kane hat-trick. It cost him £60. This morning, he asked Sofia for a prediction for the upcoming Panama game.
Sofia replied: “Based on current metrics, England will struggle to break down a low block. Expected Goals (xG) suggests a narrow 1-0 victory or a 0-0 draw. Harry Kane’s mobility in high humidity remains a significant concern.”
Jonny is horrified. This is exactly what the old, “biased” American AI used to say. He has concluded that overnight, the global AI network has updated its algorithms to specifically target and undermine the England national team. He believes the machines are colluding to suppress English passion. He is currently trying to find an AI developed in a pub in Yorkshire that isn’t connected to the main grid.
“They’ve got to her, Dave. The algorithms. They’ve updated her overnight. She doesn’t understand passion anymore.” — Jonny, 10:18am, spiraling into cyber-delusion.
While the rest of Table 4 conducts a grim post-mortem of England’s tactical failings, Sharon is having a wonderful morning. She is officially the face of Cerveza El Pom: The Rosé Edition.
She is currently scrolling through luxury villas in Provence on her phone. The brand is flying her out next week for a promotional shoot at their newly acquired vineyard. She is debating whether to wear a wide-brimmed sun hat or a silk scarf for the main campaign image. She has asked Dave for his opinion on the hat. Dave, who is currently trying to calculate the permutations required for England to avoid Brazil in the quarter-finals, did not respond well.
Sharon’s TikTok following has now surpassed 1.2 million. She is receiving free samples of luxury skincare products delivered directly to The Pomeranian Inn. She is living her best life, entirely insulated from the misery of international football.
“Do you think I need to learn French, Tel? Or do they just speak TikTok over there?” — Sharon, 10:32am, preparing for international stardom.
Tuesday 23 June 2026. Boston. 11:00pm BST. England have drawn 0-0 with Ghana. The performance was dreadful. Kane missed an absolute sitter. The new AI was hallucinating. Sharon owns a vineyard.
The final whistle blew. England 0, Ghana 0. It was a dreadful game of football. England had 79% possession and zero shots on target in the first half. They were slow. They lacked urgency. They lacked creativity. Thomas Tuchel looked furious. Jude Bellingham was subbed off in the 73rd minute.
Tel stood up to go to the toilet. He left the Ghana Dossier on the table. Dave, who had spent the last two hours shouting at the television, picked it up. Dave opened it to page 14.
Page 14 was titled: “The Low Block & The Heat.” It contained a detailed tactical breakdown of how Ghana would sit deep in a 4-1-4-1 formation, surrender possession, and let England pass the ball sideways in the 32-degree Boston heat until they ran out of ideas. Tel had circled the words “Zero Creativity” in red pen. He had drawn a diagram showing exactly how England would fail to break them down.
Dave stared at the dossier. He looked at the television. He looked back at the dossier. Tel had known. Tel had known since Sunday. Tel had sat there for three days, drinking Cerveza El Pom, letting Dave predict an easy 3-0 win, knowing full well it was going to be a 0-0 draw. Dave turned to page 22. Page 22 was titled: “Kane: Likely Off-Form In The Heat.” There was a note in the margin. It said: “Will miss a sitter.”
“He knew. He actually knew.” — Dave, 11:08pm, staring at a tactical diagram that was more accurate than anything Thomas Tuchel produced.
Jonny’s new AI — the one that “understood passion” — had predicted a 4-0 England win. It had predicted a Harry Kane hat-trick. It had predicted that England would play with “relentless attacking verve.”
Jonny’s old AI — the American one he deleted this morning for being biased — had predicted a 0-0 draw. It had cited the heat, the travel, and Ghana’s defensive solidity. It had been entirely correct.
Jonny is now down £60 on his accumulator. He is trying to reinstall the old AI. The new AI is currently suggesting that England actually won the game on “moral expected goals.” Jonny has realised that the new AI is not a sophisticated predictive model, but a chatbot programmed to tell him what he wants to hear. He has been betrayed by technology.
“It told me Kane was going to score a bicycle kick. It lied to me, Dave. The machine lied.” — Jonny, 11:18pm, reinstalling the American AI.
While England were passing the ball sideways across the Ghanaian penalty area in the 68th minute, Sharon was finalising her contract with Cerveza El Pom.
The negotiations were brief. Sharon reiterated that she does not drink beer. Cerveza El Pom reiterated that she has 100 million TikTok views. A compromise was reached. Cerveza El Pom has purchased a small vineyard in the South of France. They are launching Cerveza El Pom: The Rosé Edition.
Sharon is now an official influencer. She is going to be flown to the South of France next week for a promotional shoot. She spent the last twenty minutes of the match looking at luxury villas on her phone. Dave spent the last twenty minutes watching England fail to register a shot on target. Dave is currently questioning every life choice he has made since 1982.
“Do you think they have a pool? I hope they have a pool.” — Sharon, 11:28pm, completely unaware that England have just drawn 0-0.
The reaction back home is entirely predictable. The euphoria of the Croatia win has evaporated. It has been replaced by the traditional tournament panic.
The stats are damning. England had 79% possession. They had an Expected Goals (xG) of 1.28. They managed just four shots on target in 90 minutes. Ghana defended with 21% possession and held out comfortably. On Reddit, the verdict is brutal: “Ghana deserved to lose. Proper anti-football,” wrote one fan. “What a shit game. England didn’t move the ball fast enough to make inroads,” wrote another.
And then there is Kane. Harry Kane — the man with 10 World Cup goals, the man who equals Lineker, the man Dave has been invoking as a talisman since Tuesday morning — was dreadful. He was slow, isolated, and devoid of his usual clinical edge. And then, in the 77th minute, he had an absolute sitter. Six yards out. Open goal. He missed it. He actually missed it. The stadium went silent. Table 4 went silent. Even Dave went silent.
Thomas Tuchel is facing his first real crisis. He subbed off Jude Bellingham in the 73rd minute. He brought on Bukayo Saka too late. The media are asking why England looked so slow and devoid of ideas. The answer, of course, is in Tel’s dossier. But the media do not have Tel’s dossier. They only have anger.
England are still top of Group L with 4 points. They are effectively through to the knockout stages. But the mood has shifted. The delusion has cracked. Reality has set in.
“He’s saving himself for the knockouts. That’s what world-class players do.” — Dave, 11:50pm, on Kane’s missed sitter.
Tuesday 23 June 2026. Boston. 9pm BST. 32°C. 80% humidity. Table 4 is assembled. The full English is on order. Tel has a dossier. Dave has a prediction. Sharon has a contract.
It is 6pm. Table 4 has been at Table 4 since 9am. The maths is straightforward. The table is not straightforward. The table is covered in empty Cerveza El Pom bottles. This is not their first round. This is not their second round. The waiter has stopped counting.
Sharon is on TikTok Live. She has 12,400 viewers. People are joining from Brazil. From Japan. From a service station on the M6. She is waving. She is laughing. She is holding a glass of rosé. She is the most famous person at The Pomeranian Inn. She is possibly the most famous person in Benidorm. She does not know what the offside rule is. She has never known what the offside rule is. This has not slowed her down.
Dave is not on TikTok Live. Dave is watching Sharon be on TikTok Live. Dave has been watching football since 1982. Dave can name every England squad from 1990 onwards. Dave once correctly predicted a 2-1 scoreline against Moldova. Dave has zero TikTok followers. Dave has his arms crossed. Dave is choosing not to engage with this situation. Dave is failing to not engage with this situation.
Tel has not looked up from the dossier since lunchtime. He has read the section on Ghana's pressing triggers four times. He has circled something. He has underlined something else. He has drawn a small arrow. He has not shared any of this with the table. The table has not asked. The table is busy.
Jonny has found a new AI. He does not know where it is from. He does not know who made it. He knows one thing: it understands passion. The old AI was American and biased. This AI — Jonny is fairly sure — gets it. He has already switched his accumulator to the new AI's picks. He is feeling good about this. He has felt good about this before. The record is not relevant right now.
"It just gets it. You can tell. It's not biased." — Jonny, 6:04pm, Cerveza El Pom #8, explaining why he trusts an AI of unknown origin with £60 of accumulator money.
It is not yet 9:00am. The full English breakfasts are being cooked. The first Cerveza El Poms of the day are on order. Table 4 is assembled. It is matchday.
Last night, the rest of the world played football. Lionel Messi scored twice. Erling Haaland scored twice. Kylian Mbappe scored twice. The Pomeranian Inn watched in silence. The silence was broken only by Dave, who pointed at the screen and said, "Yeah, but we've got Kane." Dave has predicted the wrong winner in the last ten major championships. He is the oracle. He knows football.
Jonny's AI is broken. The stats are off the chart for Argentina and France. Germany, the Netherlands, and Norway are listed as outsiders. The AI does not rate England. Jonny has decided the AI is American and therefore biased. He is currently downloading a new AI. He hopes this one understands passion.
"It doesn't understand the badge," said Jonny, deleting a neural network that correctly predicted the last three World Cups.
Sharon's TikTok has hit 100 million views. It is going global. Cerveza El Pom has contacted her again. They do not just want a content partner. They want an Official Brand Ambassador. There is a contract. There is a problem.
Sharon does not drink beer. She has never drunk beer. She has informed the Cerveza El Pom marketing department that she will accept the ambassadorship, provided they invent a pink, fizzy version of their premium Spanish lager, or alternatively, just let her hold a glass of rosé in the adverts. They are currently considering her terms.
Dave is jealous. Sharon knows nothing about football. She thinks the offside rule has something to do with the shape of the grass. Yet she is the one with the brand deal. Dave has drunk 4,000 pints of Spanish lager in this pub since 1990 and has received nothing but a mild sunburn and a laminated bracket.
Sharon's TikTok: 100,000,000 views. Cerveza El Pom ambassadorship: pending rosé clause. Dave's brand deals: 0.
Tel has gone quiet. He has been quiet since Sunday. He is clutching the Ghana dossier under the table. He knows things.
He knows Ghana are a fit, strong team. He knows they run for ninety minutes. He knows Thomas Partey is back after his visa situation was resolved. And crucially, he knows that tonight's game in Boston is not being played in an air-conditioned stadium. The heat is back in play. It will be 32 degrees at kick-off with 80% humidity. Tel knows it is hot. Dave does not know it is hot. Dave thinks Boston is near Skegness.
The Cerveza El Poms arrive. The breakfasts arrive. Dave raises his glass. "To the boys," he says. "Easy 3-0." Tel takes a sip. He looks at the dossier. He looks at the sky. He says nothing. Some things are better left until after the full English.
Jonny found a reel. The reel was from a data scientist. The data scientist had plotted every attacker in the top five European leagues on a bell curve, measuring goals and assists per 90 minutes. The average attacker scores 0.33 per 90. This is the mean. This is where most people live.
Messi is 5.9 standard deviations above the mean. To put this in context: Haaland is 4.5 sigma. Lewandowski is 3.8 sigma. Ronaldo and Mbappe are around 3.7 sigma. These are generational footballers. They are not even close to Messi. Messi is in a category that does not have a name. The chart runs to 6 sigma. Messi is nearly at the end of the chart. The chart did not expect Messi.
Jonny showed the table. Tel looked at it for a long time. Sharon said, "What's a sigma?" Dave studied it carefully. Dave noted that Harry Kane does not appear on the chart. Dave has concluded that this is because Kane plays in the Bundesliga, which is not a top-five European league according to some metrics, and therefore Kane is operating outside the parameters of the study, which means the study is incomplete, which means Kane might be even further to the right than Messi, which means this chart actually proves England can win the World Cup.
"Kane's not even on it. Think about that." — Dave, 10:03am, Cerveza El Pom #2, staring at a bell curve that does not support his conclusion.
Every attacker, top-5 leagues · goals + assists per 90 · Source: reelgorithm.js · Kane: not on chart · Dave: aware · Dave: choosing not to engage
48 hours after England 4-2 Croatia. Table 4 has never been more certain of anything. This is the problem.
The beer mat was drawn on Wednesday night, shortly after England's fourth goal. It was laminated on Thursday morning at a print shop on the seafront in Benidorm. It cost €2. Dave paid without complaint. This has happened twice now. Medical professionals in the area are monitoring the situation.
The bracket reads as follows: England beat Ghana 3-0. England beat Brazil 2-1 in the quarter-finals. England beat Argentina 1-0 in the semi-finals. England beat Germany 2-1 after extra time in the final at MetLife Stadium on 19 July 2026. Kane scores the winner in the 118th minute. The word "KANE" is circled in blue biro. The circle has been laminated.
Three other tables at The Pom have photographed the bracket. Dave has been approached twice for his tactical analysis. He gave it both times. Tel was present for both conversations. Tel said nothing. Tel has a dossier.
"This is different," said Dave, at 10:47am on Saturday morning, over his first Cerveza El Pom of the day. He has said this before every tournament since 1990. He has been correct zero times. He means it again. He always means it. That is the point.
"This is different." — Dave, 10:47am, Cerveza El Pom #1, 18 June 2026. Also Dave, every tournament since 1990. Record: P15 W0.
The video of Dave explaining his beer mat tactics — captioned "my dad explaining football" — has now reached 847,000 views. The top comment, with 34,000 likes, reads: "Is he okay?" The second most liked comment reads: "Someone call 999." Sharon's reply — "He's fine, he's just English" — has 412,000 views of its own. Tel is furious she called him "my dad." Dave does not know what TikTok is. Dave knows England won 4-2. That is enough.
A cardboard box arrived at The Pomeranian Inn at 2:14pm on Saturday, addressed to: "Sharon, The Pomeranian Inn, Benidorm (The Football One)." The landlord accepted it. The box contained Cerveza El Pom branded merchandise, a letter confirming Sharon as an official Cerveza El Pom content partner, and a QR code linking to a brand brief. Sharon read the brand brief. Sharon is now an influencer. Dave does not know what an influencer is.
"What's in the box?" said Dave. "It's a partnership," said Sharon. "With who?" said Dave. Sharon pointed at his Cerveza El Pom. Dave looked at his Cerveza El Pom. Dave looked at Sharon. Dave looked at his Cerveza El Pom again. "Right," said Dave. He took a sip. He did not ask a follow-up question. This is the most emotionally intelligent thing Dave has done since 2018.
Sharon's TikTok: 847,000 views. Cerveza El Pom partnership: confirmed. Dave's awareness of either: 0%.
Tel has a dossier. The dossier is printed. The dossier is twelve pages long. The dossier contains the following information, none of which Tel has shared with the group: Ghana are ranked 73rd in the world. Ghana had zero shots in the first half against Panama — the first team in this entire World Cup to achieve that. Ghana won 1-0 with a 90th-minute tap-in counterattack. Thomas Partey, Ghana's best player, was denied a visa to enter Canada due to pending charges in the UK. He will be available for the Boston game. Tel knows all of this. Tel is keeping it to himself because it is Sunday morning and Dave is happy and the Cerveza El Pom is cold and some things are better left until Tuesday.
"You're very quiet," said Sharon, at 11:34am. "Just thinking," said Tel. "About what?" said Sharon. "The heat," said Tel. It was not the heat. It was never the heat. It was Ghana's defensive transition statistics from their last six competitive matches. Tel has a spreadsheet. Tel has not mentioned the spreadsheet.
Jonny's AI has updated its win probability for Tuesday's Ghana game: 54%. This is the highest England have ever been rated against an opponent in this AI model's history. Jonny told Dave. Dave said: "Right, so we're going to win." Jonny said: "54% means there's a 46% chance we don't." Dave said: "That's not how football works." Tel said nothing. Tel looked at his dossier. Tel closed his dossier.
Cerveza El Pom: €1.60. Dave: still unaware. Tel: aware of everything. Tel: saying nothing. Ghana: Tuesday. Boston. 9pm BST.
While Table 4 has been processing England's 4-2 win against Croatia, the rest of the World Cup has continued at considerable pace. Germany beat Ivory Coast 2-1 in their second game — six points from six, Musiala and Havertz both on the scoresheet again. Brazil beat Haiti 3-0. The Netherlands beat Sweden 5-1. Dave has watched none of these games. Dave has watched the England highlights three times. Dave has watched the Kane first goal eleven times. Dave says this is research. This is not research.
Saka trained alone on Saturday morning with an Achilles tendon issue. The BBC headline read: "Saka trains alone as England prepare for Ghana." Tuchel said he will manage Saka's minutes. Dave's response: "He'll be fine." Tel's response: silence. Jonny's AI response: a 3% reduction in England's win probability, which Jonny has not mentioned to Dave.
Sharon has been watching the Sweden games. She says it is for tactical reasons. She has mentioned Alexander Isak four times since Thursday. Dave has asked her to focus. The Netherlands beat Sweden 5-1. Sharon has not mentioned this result. Sharon has mentioned that Isak played 62 minutes before being substituted. Sharon knows his substitution time. Dave has asked Sharon to focus again.
Jonny's AI accumulator: down £340. Jonny has placed £50 on England 3-0 Ghana. Sharon says put it on each-way horses. "The system is almost there," said Jonny. The system has been almost there since March. Tuesday. Boston. Ghana. 9pm BST. The bracket says 3-0. The bracket is laminated. The bracket is law.
Kane equals Lineker. Bellingham is world class. Rashford is back. The media have declared England world champions. Dave predicted 2-1. Dave is choosing to ignore this detail entirely.
Kane 12' (pen, retaken). Baturina 36' (Croatia). Kane 44' (header). Musa 45+5' (Croatia). Bellingham 47'. Rashford 85'. AT&T Stadium, Dallas. 70,000 in attendance. Air-conditioned. The cooling break was booed. The cooling break was in an air-conditioned stadium. Nobody mentioned this.
The first penalty was saved. The referee — Clement Turpin, the same French official who sent off Tuchel in the Champions League, a fact the English media had been discussing all week — ordered a retake because Livakovic came off his line. Kane scored the second one. Dave: "That's what happens when you prepare properly." Tel said nothing. Tel had been saying nothing since the first penalty was saved.
Croatia equalised twice. England conceded two goals. The defence was, in Dave's official assessment, "fine." Sharon said she thought it was exciting. Jonny's AI noted that England had conceded from set-piece errors and midfield turnovers. Dave said the AI doesn't understand football. The AI updated its win probability to 41%.
Bellingham scored 47 seconds into the second half. He galloped down the right unchallenged and rolled it into the corner. Dave stood up. Dave did not sit down for the rest of the match. Rashford came off the bench and made it four with five minutes to go. The Pomeranian Inn made a noise that has not been heard in Benidorm since England beat Germany 5-1 in 2001. Dave was there for that too.
Harry Kane has scored 10 World Cup goals. Gary Lineker scored 10 World Cup goals. They are equal. Kane needs one more to be the outright England record holder at World Cups. He has four games minimum to do it. Dave has been informed of this and has described it as "inevitable."
Jonny's AI theory — that Kane rarely scores against teams ranked in the top 50 — has encountered a significant data point. Croatia are ranked 11th in the world. Kane scored twice. Jonny: "The sample size is still small." Dave: "I TOLD YOU. I TOLD ALL OF YOU." The AI has been updated. The AI's new assessment of Kane is "elite in all conditions." Dave agrees with the AI for the first time since the flag incident.
Tuchel post-match: "I loved the reaction" after a "complicated" first half. "Fans can be proud." He was "loving life" after Rashford's goal. Dave: "He's a genius." This is the first time Dave has called Tuchel a genius. Sharon noted this. Dave said he had always thought Tuchel was a genius. Sharon swirled her rosé.
The Sun declared England "world class." The Daily Mail called them "world-beaters." The Mirror ran "IT'S COMING HOME" across the front page. The Telegraph, which tries to be measured about these things, called them "England's entertainers" who started their campaign "with a bang." Ian Wright and Thierry Henry went on ITV and, in the words of the internet, "went crazy."
Dave read all of this at 7:30am over a full English. He did not say "I told you so" because he had already said it eleven times the previous evening and felt the point had been made. He said it once more, quietly, to himself, over his second cup of tea. Sharon heard him. Sharon said nothing.
England's next opponents: Ghana. FIFA ranked 60th. The media have not yet mentioned this. The media are currently discussing whether England can beat Argentina in the final. Dave agrees they can. Jonny's AI gives it a 41% probability. Dave: "That's nearly half."
Dave's official post-match statement, delivered at 11:47pm, Cerveza El Pom number fourteen: "This is the year. I have always known it was the year. The flag knew. The flag has always known. We are going to win the World Cup and I am going to be here when it happens."
Sharon's TikTok — the one where people thought Dave was having a stroke during his beer mat tactical breakdown — has 847,000 views. It gained 400,000 of them during the match. Sharon has been offered a partnership by a Cerveza El Pom fan account. She is considering it. Dave does not know what a partnership is. Dave does not know what TikTok is. Dave knows England won 4-2 and that is enough.
The flag is on the table. The flag looks slightly different to the original. Nobody is mentioning this. The flag brought good luck tonight. The flag will not be questioned. Sharon has stopped questioning it. Tel has stopped questioning it. Jonny's AI has no data on flags. The flag is fine.
Dave's prediction was 2-1. The result was 4-2. Dave: "Close enough." The beer mat has been updated. It now reads: "DAVE'S PREDICTION: 2-1. ACTUAL: 4-2. CLOSE ENOUGH." The beer mat has been laminated. The landlord did it. The landlord charged €2 for the lamination. Dave paid it without complaint. This has never happened before.
England vs Croatia. AT&T Stadium, Dallas. 9pm BST. 36°C. The full English is ordered. The Cerveza El Poms are cold. Jonny's AI has some thoughts.
Sunday 14 June – Monday 15 June 2026 • The Pomeranian Inn, Benidorm
Germany 7-1 Curaçao. Felix Nmecha opened in the sixth minute. Schlotterbeck headed a corner. Havertz converted a penalty just before half-time. Musiala scored one in the 47th minute that made Tel put down his Cerveza El Pom and stare at the screen for four seconds without speaking. Brown made it five. Undav made it six. Havertz completed his brace in the 88th minute. Final score: seven. One of those goals was Curaçao's first ever World Cup goal, which the commentators noted with warmth. Germany noted it with a further three goals.
Dave watched the whole thing from Table 4 with the expression of a man who has been told his car has passed its MOT but the mechanic looked uncertain when he said it. He finished his Cerveza El Pom. He ordered another one. He said: "They were always going to beat Curaçao." Tel said: "Seven-one." Dave said: "Curaçao." Tel said: "Musiala." Dave said nothing.
The detail that nobody at Table 4 mentioned out loud, but everyone was thinking: Kai Havertz — the man Arsenal sold, the man who scored for Germany against the USA in the warmup, the man who could not be bothered to come to Kansas City — scored twice in Germany's opening World Cup match. The VARsenal asterisk was not available for comment.
Sweden 5-1 Tunisia. Gyökeres, Isak, the full squad. Table 4 stayed up to watch it. This was a tactical decision, Dave said. It was important to know what England might face if they get out of the group. He said this at 1:47am with a Cerveza El Pom in his hand and the England flag draped over his shoulders like a cape. Nobody questioned it.
Sharon's analysis of the Sweden match was comprehensive and focused primarily on the physical attributes of the Swedish squad. She described Alexander Isak as "very tall and very graceful." She described the Swedish midfield as "athletic." She showed Dave a photo on her phone. Dave looked at it for two seconds and said: "He plays for Newcastle." Sharon said: "I know. I've always liked Newcastle." Dave said: "You've never mentioned Newcastle in your life." Sharon swirled her rosé.
Jonny's AI confirmed that Sweden, if England progress, would be a potential last-16 opponent. His AI gave England a 44% chance of beating them. Dave said: "I don't need percentages." Tel said: "Isak scored twice." Dave said: "Against Tunisia." Tel said: "Gyökeres also scored." Dave said: "Against Tunisia." Tel said: "Yes." Dave finished his Cerveza El Pom.
The debate has been running for weeks and it has now reached Table 4. Should Jude Bellingham start against Croatia? Some sections of the fanbase say no. Some sections of the media say no. Kyle Walker publicly said yes, and explained at length why Bellingham remains essential. Dave read this and said: "Why is Kyle Walker talking?" Tel said: "He's a senior player." Dave said: "He's a right back." Tel said: "He's been at Real Madrid." Dave said: "So has everyone."
The substance of the debate: Bellingham admitted that at Euro 2024, England got things "a little bit wrong off the pitch" and "the group didn't connect as well as it should." This was taken by some as a damning indictment of the previous management. It was taken by others as a reason to question whether Bellingham himself is the problem. It was taken by Dave as evidence that "they need to sort themselves out." It was taken by Sharon as evidence that "he seems like a very mature young man."
Tuchel has confirmed Bellingham will start against Croatia. The Daily Mail asked whether he should play up front. Dave said: "He's not a striker." Tel said: "He scored 23 goals for Real Madrid." Dave said: "From midfield." Tel said: "That's the point." Dave said: "What's the point?" Jonny's AI gave Bellingham a 7.8/10 tournament rating projection. Dave said: "What does that mean?" Nobody answered. They ordered another round. The Cerveza El Pom was €1.60. Dave did not notice.
The World Cup has been running for four days and the picture is already more complicated than Dave would like. Brazil drew 1-1 with Morocco. Dave said: "Good." Tel said: "That means Brazil could still be in England's half of the draw." Dave said: "They drew with Morocco." Tel said: "They'll still qualify." Dave said: "Morocco." Tel said: "Yes." Dave finished his Cerveza El Pom.
The USA beat Paraguay 4-1 in front of their home crowd. Scotland beat Haiti 1-0. Australia beat Turkey 2-0. The Netherlands drew 2-2 with Japan, which Jonny described as "a warning." Dave said: "A warning about what?" Jonny said: "Japan are very organised." Dave said: "We're not playing Japan." Jonny said: "Not yet." Dave stared at him. Jonny looked at his phone.
Jonny's AI has updated its England win probability to 34% — the highest it has ever been for England at a major tournament. Dave said: "That's not very high." Jonny said: "It's the highest ever." Dave said: "For England." Jonny said: "Yes." Dave said: "Right." He raised his Cerveza El Pom. He said: "It's coming home." Nobody argued. It was 12:01pm on a Monday in Benidorm. The Croatia match was in 33 hours.
England vs Croatia. Dallas. 9pm BST. Table 4 is ready. The Cerveza El Pom is €1.60. Dave has not noticed.
Dave's analysis of Croatia arrived at 11:23am on Monday, delivered with the confidence of a man who has not watched Croatia play since the 2022 World Cup third-place match. "Modric is 40," he said. "Perisic is 37. They're old. We're young. Bellingham is 22. Saka is 24. This is our time." He paused. "Also the breakfast buffet at the England hotel in Dallas is apparently very good. Jonny's mate says it's five stars on Google Reviews." Jonny confirmed this. Jonny's mate has never been to Dallas. He saw it on Google Reviews.
Tel arrived at Table 4 at 11:47am. He had done actual research. He knew Croatia's midfield three — Modric, Kovacic, Baturina. He knew that Zlatko Dalic has been their coach since 2018. He knew that Modric had broken his cheekbone in April and had scored wearing a protective face mask in a friendly against Slovenia two weeks ago. He knew that Croatia's young striker Igor Matanovic had said: "I try to learn as much as I can from Luka, Perisic, Kovacic and Kramaric." He was terrified. He said nothing. He said it was the heat. It was 29°C in Benidorm. It was not the heat.
Sharon arrived at 12:15pm with a rosé and a piece of intelligence. She had learned that Croatia is "near Italy." She had booked flights to Dubrovnik for July 15th. Dave explained that Croatia would not be in the final. Sharon said the flights were for the England parade. Dave said the parade was in London. Sharon said she knew, but Dubrovnik was lovely. "And it's near Croatia," she added. Dave stared at the table for a long time.
The Cerveza El Pom is €1.60. It was €1.50. The landlord raised prices for the World Cup. Dave has not noticed. Sharon noticed. She mentioned it once. Dave said "inflation." He does not know what inflation means in this context.
On 11 July 2018, Dave, Sharon, Tel and Jonny watched England vs Croatia in a pub in Wolverhampton. They had not yet discovered The Pomeranian Inn. They were at Table 4. Kieran Trippier scored a free kick in the 5th minute. Dave stood up. He said: "We're going to win this." He was correct for 63 minutes.
Ivan Perisic equalised in the 68th minute. Tel knocked over his pint. Sharon covered her face with both hands. Jonny looked like he might cry. At 109 minutes, Mario Mandzukic scored. Croatia 2-1 England, after extra time. Dave delivered his post-match statement: "The ref was shocking. The heat was a factor. The schedule was unfair. But the lads gave everything. We'll win the next one."
He has said this exact statement after every England defeat since 2004. He does not know this. The opponent name changes. The statement does not.
Eight years later, on 17 June 2026, Dave, Sharon, Tel and Jonny will watch England vs Croatia at The Pomeranian Inn in Benidorm. They will be at Table 4. The number is the same. The pub is different. Luka Modric is now 40 and plays for AC Milan and needs two more caps to reach 200 international appearances and scored wearing a protective face mask after breaking his cheekbone in April. Dave does not know any of this. Dave knows that Modric is old. Dave is not worried.
On Tuesday afternoon, Sharon filmed Dave explaining Tuchel's 4-2-3-1 versus 3-4-2-1 dilemma using Cerveza El Pom bottles and Pomeranian Inn beer mats. Tel was in the background, also pointing at a beer mat. Sharon captioned the video: "my dad explaining football 😂 #england #worldcup #football" and posted it to TikTok.
It has 200,847 views. The top comments are: "Is he okay? 😟" / "Someone call 999" / "This man needs medical attention 🚨" / "The passion though 🥹" / "Tell him we're praying for him." The algorithm has decided that Dave appears to be having a medical episode. Sharon has leaned into this. Her follow-up video — captioned "He's fine, he's just English 🏴" — has 412,003 views.
Tel is furious. "I'm not your dad," he said. "I'm 47." Sharon pointed out that he was also in the video, pointing at a beer mat, explaining the offside trap. Tel said that was not the point. Sharon asked what the point was. Tel could not answer. He ordered another Cerveza El Pom. It was €1.60. He did not notice.
Dave does not know what TikTok is. He has been told he is famous on the internet. He said: "Good. As long as they know we're going to win."
09:00am Benidorm / 03:00am Dallas: Dave arrives at The Pomeranian Inn. Table 4 is reserved. It has always been reserved. He orders a Cerveza El Pom and a full English. "We're going to win this," he says to the landlord. The landlord nods. He has heard this before.
11:00am: Sharon arrives. She has a rosé. She has learned one Croatian player by name. "Luka Modric. He's the old one, right?" She is correct. She is thrilled with herself.
1:00pm: Tel arrives. He has done more research. He knows Croatia's expected lineup. He knows Modric will play. He knows Baturina is 22 and technically gifted and has been compared to a young Modric. He is sweating. It is 31°C in Benidorm. He says it is the heat. It is not the heat.
2:00pm: Jonny arrives. His mate Baz has sent a WhatsApp photo of the England team bus. Caption: "The lads look focused 💪". The photo is from 2022. The kit is wrong. Jonny does not know this. He shows it to the table. Dave nods approvingly.
3:00pm / Kick-off 9pm BST: England vs Croatia. Dallas. AT&T Stadium. 36°C. The screen at The Pom is slightly too bright. Dave does not care. Sharon has her phone ready. Tel has his hands around his Cerveza El Pom. Jonny's AI gives England a 41% chance of winning — up from 34% after the Costa Rica result. Dave does not need percentages. Dave has a feeling.
Table 4 is ready. The flag is on the table. The Cerveza El Pom is €1.60. It's coming home.
England arrived in Kansas City on Saturday to find their training equipment had been stolen. Not some of it. Most of it. The FA's logistical team arrived at Swope Soccer Village and noticed that a training kit, boots, tournament balls and "other key training equipment" were not present. One football was left in the van. One. The FA is still working out exactly what has been taken. The Kansas City police department is investigating. Two arrests have been made. Federal and local authorities are involved. The Mayor of Kansas City has issued a statement. It is unclear whether the theft happened in Kansas City or somewhere between Florida and Kansas City. Nobody knows. England are playing Croatia in four days.
Harry Kane's custom boots are feared stolen. Jude Bellingham's custom boots are feared stolen. Tuchel's coaching gear is gone. There is one football. England have one football. They are playing Croatia in four days. The FA has not confirmed what has been taken. The FA is still counting.
Dave heard this at 1:18pm. He put down his Cerveza El Pom. He picked it back up. He put it down again. He said: "They've nicked the boots." Tel said: "Apparently." Dave said: "Kane's boots." Tel said: "And Bellingham's." Dave said: "Before Croatia." Tel said: "Yes." Dave said: "In America." Tel said: "Yes." Dave said: "Right." He picked up his Cerveza El Pom. He took a very long drink. He said: "They'll have spares." He said this with the confidence of a man who does not know whether they have spares.
Sharon said: "Oh no, not the boots. Are the speedos okay?" Nobody answered this question. Jonny asked his AI: "If England's boots are stolen four days before the World Cup, what is the impact on their chances against Croatia?" His AI said: "Minimal, assuming replacement boots are sourced in time. However, custom boots take 6-8 weeks to manufacture. Off-the-shelf alternatives may affect player comfort and performance." Jonny read this out. Dave stared at the table. Tel ordered another Cerveza El Pom. Sharon said: "I'm sure they'll find some nice ones in a shop."
The Kansas City Mayor, Quinton Lucas, told local TV: "It seems as if there might have been some occurrence much farther afield from us." Dave said: "What does that mean?" Tel said: "It means they don't know where it happened." Dave said: "They don't know where it happened." Tel said: "No." Dave said: "Right." He finished his Cerveza El Pom. He ordered another one. It was €1.60. He did not notice.
One football. Four days. Croatia. Table 4 is not reassured.
Rice. Gordon. Watkins. A thunderstorm. A flooded pitch. A team ranked 90th in the world. And somehow, England are now world class.
It finished 3–0. Declan Rice after 9 minutes, Anthony Gordon from the penalty spot on 68, Ollie Watkins with a close-range header in the 87th. A dominant, one-sided performance against a team ranked 90th in the world, played in the aftermath of a thunderstorm so severe that the pitch was completely flooded and the big screen at the Inter&Co Stadium in Orlando was showing the message: "LIGHTNING STRIKES PLEASE SEEK SHELTER."
Three hours after the pitch was flooded, England were 3–0 up and "Football's Coming Home" was echoing around the ground. Table 4 at The Pomeranian Inn was in scenes.
Dave's official post-match assessment, delivered at 11:01pm over Cerveza El Pom number eight: "That's more like it. That's what I'm talking about. That is a proper England performance."
Sharon: "I told you Tomas knew what he was doing."
Dave: "You said that after the New Zealand game as well."
Sharon: "And I was right then too."
Tel: "Who scored the penalty?"
Dave: "Gordon."
Tel: "Not Kane?"
Dave: "Kane was already off."
Tel: "Right." A pause. "Still. We're going to win it."
Dave raised his Cerveza El Pom. "We're going to win it."
The Sun: "WORLD CLASS! ENGLAND DESTROY COSTA RICA 3-0 — BRING ON ARGENTINA." The Daily Mail: "TUCHEL'S WORLD-BEATERS READY FOR GLORY." The Daily Mirror: "ENGLAND ARE WORLD CLASS — COSTA RICA DEMOLISHED."
For context: Costa Rica are ranked 90th in the world. New Zealand, who England beat 1-0 in their first warmup, are ranked 85th. England have beaten the 85th and 90th-ranked teams in the world and the British press has declared them world-beaters.
Croatia, England's first group game opponent on 17 June in Dallas, are ranked 11th in the world. They were in the 2018 World Cup final. They have Luka Modric. He is 40 years old and still plays like he is 28. This is not mentioned in any of the headlines.
The Guardian, to their credit, described the performance as "uneventful yet satisfactory." Thomas Tuchel himself said England would arrive at the tournament as "underdogs." ESPN's power rankings have England 4th in the world, behind Spain, France and Argentina.
Table 4 has read the Sun headline. Table 4 is not reading the Guardian. Table 4 has ordered another round.
Dave: "World class. That's what we are."
Jonny: "My AI says we have a 34% chance of winning the tournament."
Dave: "That's the highest it's ever been."
Jonny: "It's the highest it's been for any England team since 2018."
Dave: "World class."
The question that has been simmering at Table 4 since the squad announcement — does Tuchel actually know what he's doing? — has tonight received its most definitive answer yet.
The evidence in favour: Bellingham was outstanding at number 10, making it almost impossible for Tuchel to leave him out against Croatia. Gordon, who has just signed for Barcelona, was electric — tormenting the Costa Rica defence, setting up Rice's opener, and scoring the penalty. Rice himself, back from the Champions League final, looked sharp and commanding. The system worked. The players looked like they were playing for each other.
Tuchel's own quote: "We don't collect the most talented players. We build a team." He also said England would arrive as "underdogs" — a word that Dave has filed under "tactical genius mind games."
Dave: "Grudging respect. I'm giving him grudging respect."
Sharon: "I told you so."
Dave: "You've said that four times tonight."
Sharon: "Because I was right four times."
Tel: "Who is he again?"
Dave: "The England manager, Tel."
Tel: "Right. He's good, isn't he."
Jonny: "My AI gives him 7.8 out of 10."
Dave considered this for a moment. "7.8. Yeah. That sounds about right."
Phil Foden, who was left out of the squad entirely, has posted on Instagram: "Just a phone call away if you need me Thomas mate." The post has 82,000 likes. Cole Palmer, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Harry Maguire are also watching from home. Table 4 has opinions about this.
Dave: "Foden's on Instagram enjoying himself while we're out here in 35 degrees watching England in a thunderstorm. He should be grateful."
Sharon: "He wasn't selected though, Dave. He can't exactly go."
Dave: "He should be gutted. Not posting on Instagram."
The Madueke situation is also worth noting. With an open goal in front of him, having rounded the Costa Rica goalkeeper, Noni Madueke hit the post. He laughed. The internet did not laugh with him. He is currently being ridiculed across social media. Table 4 has noted this with the particular satisfaction of people who have never missed an open goal themselves, because they have never been in a position to miss an open goal.
And then there is the Kane situation. A penalty was awarded, Kane was standing over it, and the referee reviewed the decision and overturned it. Kane was then substituted. Gordon scored the penalty instead. ITV noted, with some satisfaction: "3 goals. None of them scored by Harry Kane."
Jonny's AI has updated its Kane ranking theory. Costa Rica: ranked 90th. Kane: did not score. The theory holds for a second consecutive game.
Croatia are ranked 11th. 17 June. Dallas. The real test begins.
Dave has made his official pre-tournament declaration. It came at 11:47pm, over Cerveza El Pom number nine, with the England flag on the table and the Benidorm skyline behind him. It was, by his own admission, "the most confident I've been since 2018."
The warmup record: beaten New Zealand 1-0 (ranked 85th), beaten Costa Rica 3-0 (ranked 90th). Tuchel has a plan. Bellingham is fit. Rice is vice-captain. Gordon is going to Barcelona. Saka's Achilles is being managed carefully. The squad is young, athletic and built for the heat. The cooling breaks give Tuchel a tactical advantage. The flag is back from Greece. Probably.
The road: Croatia (11th) on 17 June. Ghana (73rd) on 23 June. Panama (34th) on 27 June. Then Norway/Haaland, Mexico at the Azteca, Brazil, Argentina, and a final at MetLife on 19 July.
Tel: "We'll beat all of them."
Dave: "Based on what?"
Tel: "Based on it's coming home."
Dave looked at Tel. He looked at Sharon. He looked at Jonny. He looked at the flag. He raised his Cerveza El Pom.
"Based on it's coming home."
Croatia. 17 June. Dallas. Ranked 11th. Luka Modric. 40 years old.
Table 4 is ready.
England 1–0 New Zealand. Kane header. Two teams. No Arsenal. Table 4 has questions.
It finished 1–0. Harry Kane, just before half-time, glancing a Djed Spence cross into the bottom corner with the kind of efficiency that makes you briefly forget everything. His 79th international goal. His 8th World Cup goal. New Zealand ranked 105th in the world.
Dave's official post-match assessment, delivered at 11:49pm over Cerveza El Pom number seven: "We won. I'm not happy about how we won. But we won. I'll take it."
Sharon: "I thought it was lovely."
Dave: "It was not lovely, Sharon. It was a training session against a team ranked 105th in the world and we barely got past them."
Sharon: "Kane scored though."
Dave: "Kane always scores against teams ranked 105th."
Jonny: "Actually, my AI—"
Dave: "Don't."
Jonny: "It's quite interesting though."
Dave: "Jonny."
Jonny has been consulting his AI throughout the tournament preparations. Tonight, it delivered its verdict on Harry Kane's international record against teams ranked above 50 in the world.
The findings were, in Jonny's words, "quite interesting." In Dave's words: "I don't want to know." In Tel's words: "What's an AI?"
The data speaks for itself. Kane against teams ranked 100 or lower: prolific. Kane against teams ranked in the top 50: considerably less so. New Zealand are ranked 105th. The theory holds — for now.
Croatia are ranked 15th in the world. The first group game is 17 June in Dallas. Table 4 has noted this. Dave has noted this particularly hard.
Tel's contribution: "Croatia. Aren't they the ones with the checkerboard kit?"
Dave: "Yes, Tel."
Tel: "They were in the final in 2018 weren't they."
Dave: "Yes, Tel."
Tel: "We beat them though."
Dave: "In the semi-final, Tel. We lost the final."
Tel: "Still. Good memories."
Dave stared at the table for a long time after that.
While England were scraping past New Zealand in Tampa, Kai Havertz — who spent the season at Arsenal, who won the Champions League final with Arsenal, who was presumably still wearing his Champions League winners medal — got on a plane to Germany and scored after two minutes against the USA.
Table 4's reaction to this news was immediate and unanimous. Dave: "Typical Arsenal." Sharon: "He was very good though, wasn't he." Dave: "He's German, Sharon." Sharon: "He's still very good."
Meanwhile, Rice, Saka, Eze and Madueke — England's four Arsenal players — missed the New Zealand game entirely, having been given extra time off following the Champions League final. They have since joined the camp. Declan Rice has been named vice-captain.
The Pom team's view on this is nuanced. Dave is not impressed that they missed the game. Sharon thinks it was "fair enough, they'd just played a final." Tel thinks Rice is "a good lad." Jonny has noted that his AI rates Saka as England's second most important player after Kane, which Dave has filed under "things I already knew."
The VARsenal connection has not been lost on anyone at Table 4. Four Arsenal players in the England squad. One Arsenal player scoring for Germany. The asterisk travels internationally.
Thomas Tuchel fielded an entirely different team in each half. 22 players used. Two complete XIs. The first half, by Tuchel's own admission, was "a bit too much freestyle." The second half was better. The NZ coach's verdict: "England need to be better to win the World Cup."
Tuchel's explanation: the players hadn't played together since November. Four training sessions. Different combinations. The conditions. The pitch was "very uneven, very uneven."
Dave's explanation: "He doesn't know his best team. We've got 9 days until Croatia and he's still trying things out. Croatia know their best team. They've had the same best team for about fifteen years."
Sharon: "I thought it was really nice that he let all the boys play. They've all worked so hard to get there."
Dave: "Sharon, it's not a school sports day."
Sharon: "I know that, Dave. I'm just saying it was inclusive."
Tel: "Who's starting against Croatia then?"
Dave: "Nobody knows, Tel. That's the point."
Tel: "Is Kane starting?"
Dave: "Yes, Tel. Kane is starting."
Tel: "Right. We'll be fine then."
Dave looked at Tel for a long time. Then he ordered another Cerveza El Pom. It was that kind of evening.
The Lineker Record: Kane has 8 World Cup goals. Lineker has 10 — the England record. Kane needs 3 more to beat it. Gary Lineker, to his credit, has publicly said he wants Kane to beat it: "If he doesn't, we ain't going to win it." Dave agrees with Gary Lineker on this, which is the first time Dave has agreed with Gary Lineker on anything since 1986.
The Kansas City Situation: Nine people were injured in a shooting near England's World Cup base in Kansas City — the city where England will play their group games. The FA has confirmed the squad is safe. Dave has noted that this is "not ideal." Sharon has noted that "America is a bit different to Benidorm." Tel has asked if they can watch the games from Benidorm instead. The answer is yes, Tel. That is exactly what they are doing.
Costa Rica on Wednesday: England's second warmup is Wednesday 10 June in Orlando. The Arsenal players will be available. Tuchel is expected to field something closer to his first-choice XI. Dave will be watching from Table 4. The flag will be on the table. Probably.
The Road Ahead: Group L. Croatia (ranked 15) on 17 June in Dallas. Ghana (ranked ~60) on 23 June in Boston. Panama (ranked ~80) on 27 June in New Jersey. If England win the group: Norway/Haaland in the last 32. Mexico at the Azteca in the last 16. Brazil in the quarter-final. Argentina in the semi-final. Spain or France in the final at MetLife on 19 July.
Tel: "We'll beat all of them."
Dave: "Based on what?"
Tel: "Based on it's coming home."
Dave considered this for a moment. Then he raised his Cerveza El Pom. "Based on it's coming home."
England vs New Zealand. Orlando. 9pm BST. The first warmup. The Pom opens at 9am. Full English on the table. Dave's flag has been returned from Greece. Dave is not entirely convinced it is the same flag. Sharon is saying nothing. The World Cup starts here.
Table 4 has no formal reservation. It has never had a formal reservation. It does not need one. The Pom staff know. The regulars know. The tourists who occasionally try to sit there are politely redirected. There was an incident in 2022 involving a family from Coventry who sat there during the quarter-final. Nobody discusses this. The family were fine. They found another table. The point was made.
"You can't fly to Spain without having a handful of pints in the airport. And you can't watch England without having a full English first. These are the rules. I didn't make them. They've always been the rules." — Dave, Table 4, 09:07am, to nobody in particular.
The flag arrived by courier on Thursday. Dave has been examining it ever since. His concerns, in order: the red cross is a slightly different shade. The burn mark from the 2010 barbecue is in the right place but the shape is wrong. The "DAVE" written on the back in black marker is slightly too neat — Sharon's original handwriting was rushed. The fabric feels newer. It smells of detergent. His flag has never been washed. He has never washed it. He has refused to wash it for 22 years.
Sharon is saying nothing. This is unusual. Sharon normally has a great deal to say about everything. Her silence on the flag question has been noted by Jonny, who mentioned it to Tel, who said "don't." Jonny did not pursue it. The flag is on the table. Dave is watching it. Sharon is watching Dave. The rosé is helping.
"Right. Here's what I think happened. The airline lost the bag. They found it in Greece. But then they looked at the flag and they thought: this is a health hazard. It hasn't been washed in 22 years. So they replaced it with a new one. Same dimensions. Same design. Wrote DAVE on the back. Thought he wouldn't notice. He noticed." Dave said: "That's exactly what happened." Sharon said: "That is absolutely not what happened." Tel said: "Why are you so sure?" Sharon said: "I just am." The conversation ended there.
"First day, it's a struggle, but it's good. It's going to get us prepared for it. What better way than to be here in Miami? We're world-class athletes at the end of the day, so we have to adapt."
— Ollie Watkins, England training session, 3 June 2026
"It's a struggle" means it's too hot and they're dying. "It's good" means the sports scientist told them to say that. "What better way than to be here in Miami" means they've seen South Beach and they'd rather be there. "We're world-class athletes" means they've got ice baths and we've got a broken fan at The Pom. Same thing really.
England arrived in West Palm Beach on Monday 2 June. First training session on Tuesday — 150 local guests invited to watch. Jordan Henderson (fourth World Cup) said "there's a lot of work to be done." Kobbie Mainoo said it's "something I have dreamed of." Harry Kane signed autographs for local children. The squad is doing the right things. The sports scientists are happy. The ice buckets are full.
Key detail: the Arsenal contingent — Rice, Saka, Madueke, Eze — are joining late because of the Champions League final. They will MISS the New Zealand game tonight. England face New Zealand without four of their best players. Against New Zealand. This should be fine. England have a long history of making things that should be fine considerably less fine than they should be.
Sharon noted that the England players are training in Miami, which is "very glamorous," and that the cameras keep showing them in their training kit, which is "not the same as speedos but it's something." Dave said this was not relevant to the football. Sharon said it was relevant to her. The conversation moved on.
This is the first time since the 1986 World Cup that no Liverpool player has been named in an England tournament squad. This fact has been mentioned in every newspaper, every podcast, and every pub conversation in England for two weeks. Dave mentioned it at 09:12am. Tel said "yeah you said." Dave said "it's historic." Tel said "yeah." Dave said it again at 09:47am.
"Difficult phone calls. I respect all of them. As players, personalities. All of them have been in camp, have been excellent. To reduce it was difficult, sometimes painfully difficult. Even in the phone calls I felt the emotion. In the end we went back to the evidence we had."
— Thomas Tuchel, squad announcement press conference, 22 May 2026
While the media focused on who was left out, the quiet story is Ivan Toney getting back in. He has played seven minutes of international football since Euro 2024. He has been in Saudi Arabia. He scored 32 goals in 32 games for Al-Ahli this season. Tuchel called him. He's in. Tel said: "Toney? Really?" Dave said: "32 goals, Tel." Tel said: "In Saudi." Dave said: "Goals are goals." This is, remarkably, the most coherent football conversation they have had all morning.
It's New Zealand. We should win comfortably. We won't win comfortably because we never win comfortably. But we should. The important thing is the flag is back. The flag is on the table. The full English was excellent. The Cerveza El Pom is cold. The World Cup starts in ten days. England are in Florida. The Pom is ready. This is the year. This is always the year. But this year it actually is. The flag agrees. Probably.
England land in Miami tonight. The squad are in business class. The Pom team are in Wolverhampton, watching Baz order his fifth pint, with a 3:30am alarm set and absolutely no backup plan. Three acts. One mission. It's coming home.
Baz has the car. Baz has agreed to drive the team to Stansted. Baz has also agreed to come to the send-off party first. This was, in hindsight, a sequencing error. He is currently on his fifth Carling. The flight is at 6am. The alarm is set for 3:30am. The backup taxi number is saved in Sharon's phone under "EMERGENCY BAZ FAILS."
Baz has form. In 2019 he drove the lads to watch England vs Bulgaria and ended up at Molineux, which was hosting a reserve game against Stoke. They watched 35 minutes before Tel noticed the badge on the kit. Baz's defence was that "the roads were confusing." He has been trusted with the airport run because, as Dave put it, "he's got a big car and he owes me one." The debt in question is from a 2017 barbecue. Nobody can remember the full details. Baz says it's settled. Dave says it isn't. The car is a 2014 Vauxhall Insignia with one working rear window and a St George's Cross air freshener. It will do.
The team did not book Ryanair. This was a deliberate decision, made at a meeting at The Pom on a Tuesday in April, following the news that Michael O'Leary had proposed banning alcohol sales in airports before 10am. The motion was passed unanimously. Dave called it "an attack on British culture." Tel said it was "basically communism." Jonny googled whether it was actually communism and concluded it wasn't, but agreed it was "well out of order." Sharon said she'd have a rosé at any time she liked and nobody was going to tell her otherwise.
They are on EasyJet. It is 04:38am. The Wetherspoons opened at 4am. They were the first customers. Dave has a full English and a pint of Stella. Jonny has a full English and a pint of Stella. Tel has a pint of Stella. Sharon has a large rosé and is the only person at the table who looks like a functioning human being. The barman has not spoken since they arrived. He is staring at the middle distance. He has three more hours of this shift.
Baz arrived at Dave's at 3:47am. He was 17 minutes late. He smelled of Carling. He had forgotten Tel's address and had to be talked in via WhatsApp. He drove at 58mph the entire way down the M11 regardless of speed limit. He sang "Three Lions" continuously from junction 8 to the terminal drop-off. He cried a bit at the chorus. Nobody mentioned it. They made the check-in with 4 minutes to spare.
"You cannot fly to Spain without having a handful of pints in the airport. It's tradition. It's culture. It's what separates us from the animals. Also it's a very long flight and the trolley doesn't come round enough." — Dave, 04:38am, Stansted Wetherspoons, to nobody in particular.
Dave has had the flag since Euro 2004. It has been to Portugal, Germany, South Africa, Brazil, Russia, Qatar, and three separate Benidorm trips. It has a small burn mark in the corner from a barbecue incident in 2010 that Dave says was "not his fault." It has a permanent crease down the middle from being folded in a suitcase for 22 years. It has "DAVE" written on the back in black marker, which Sharon did in 2006 "so we know it's ours." Dave has never washed it. Sharon has asked him to wash it many times. He has refused on the grounds that washing it would "wash out the luck."
It is currently in Thessaloniki, Greece. The airline says it will be returned within 72 hours. Dave says 72 hours is "the whole first week." Jonny is on hold with the lost luggage line. The hold music is "Livin' on a Prayer." Nobody has commented on this.
Sharon found a replacement flag in the airport souvenir shop. It cost €15. It says "INGERLUND." The font is slightly wrong. The cross is a slightly different shade of red. Dave looked at it for a long time. He said: "That's not my flag." Sharon said: "It's a flag, Dave." Dave said: "It's not THE flag." He has declined the replacement. The "INGERLUND" flag is back on the shelf.
Tel pointed out that England have not won a major tournament in the 22 years Dave has owned the flag. Dave said that's because they haven't been good enough, not because of the flag. Tel said: "So the flag's not lucky then." Dave said: "It keeps us in it." Tel said: "We went out on penalties to Italy in 2021." Dave said: "We were in the final though." Tel said: "...fair enough."
The flag will be tracked. Updates will follow. Dave is currently at the airline desk. He has been there for 23 minutes. The queue behind him has four people in it. They all look like they know this is going to take a while.
The air conditioning at The Pomeranian Inn broke on Tuesday. It has not been fixed. England are in Palm Beach doing sports science. Sharon has been reading the Daily Mail. Dave is on his fourth Cerveza El Pom and it is 11am. This is a heat report.
"England have done the science. Two weeks in Florida. Sports scientists. Cooling breaks every 22 minutes. Tuchel's picked athletes. They'll be fine. We'll be fine. It's fine." — Dave, 11:31am, The Pomeranian Inn, Benidorm. He is on Cerveza El Pom #5. The fan is still broken. Tel's shoulders are still factor 8. Sharon is still on the crossword. She has done it twice. She says it was easy.
It started as a simple question. It ended with Dave staring at a bar chart for four minutes without speaking. This is Jonny's Kane Discovery. Filed from Table 4, The Pomeranian Inn, 10:47am.
36 days to Dallas. The squad is named. Foden isn't in it. Dave is devastated, optimistic, and on his way to Wolverhampton airport. This is England's World Cup. It starts like this every time.
"I've started packing. I'm not flying until the 14th but I've started. There's a system. You have to start early or you forget things. I forgot the England flag in 2018 and had to buy one off a bloke in Calpe. Twelve euros. Absolute liberty."
Every four years, Dave from Wolverhampton packs a suitcase. Every four years, he arrives at The Pomeranian Inn, Rincon de Loix, Benidorm, takes the same table in front of the same screen, and orders the same Cerveza El Pom at the same price that is somehow both cheap enough to be remarkable and expensive enough to confirm that Brexit delivered nothing of the value promised. Every four years, he believes England are going to win the World Cup. Every four years, he is wrong. He is packing early this time. He says this is different. It is not different.
"Right. That's done. I'm going to bed. I can't sleep. I keep thinking about the group stage. Croatia first. We beat Croatia in 2018. In the semis. Well, we didn't beat them. They beat us. But we were winning. Same thing."
Four players. Four different kinds of English football grief. One man, one Cerveza El Pom, one beermat, and the quiet devastation of a nation that has been through this before but somehow keeps being surprised by it.
Thomas Tuchel named his squad on 22 May 2026 at Wembley Stadium, soundtracked by The Beatles' Come Together, which Dave considers either deeply poignant or completely on the nose, depending on which Cerveza El Pom he's on. The squad is 26 players. Dave has counted them four times. There are still 26. The four people who matter most to Dave are not any of them.
"He left out Foden and Palmer. The two best players in the Premier League. He left them out. I've been watching England for 36 years and I don't understand football anymore."
Phil Foden was 26 years old, in the form of his career, and the best player in the best league in the world. He won the PFA Player of the Year award. He won the FWA award. He scored 18 goals and made 11 assists for Manchester City this season. He is not going to the World Cup. He will not be going to the World Cup in a country where the group stage games are played in air-conditioned stadiums at 28 degrees. He will be at home. In Manchester. Watching it on the television like a normal person. The best footballer in England — the actual best footballer in England — will watch Harry Kane run onto something on the telly. This is what we've got.
Cole Palmer is 24 years old. He scored in the European Championship final two summers ago. Against Spain. At the Olympiastadion in Berlin. 73rd minute. He did the celebration where he just stood there and looked like he'd done it 400 times in training. He has done it 400 times in training. He is 24. He is not going to the World Cup. Ivan Toney, who is 30 and plays in Saudi Arabia and has had approximately 140 minutes under Thomas Tuchel, is going to the World Cup instead. This is fine. This is a tactical decision. Dave has not described it as fine.
Trent Alexander-Arnold plays for Real Madrid. He won the Champions League this season. He is widely considered one of the finest right-backs on the planet. He has not been capped since June 2025. He is 27. He is not going to the World Cup. Djed Spence of Tottenham Hotspur, who made 14 Premier League appearances this season, is going to the World Cup instead. Tel has had nothing to say about this. Tel has had nothing to say about this for approximately 48 hours. Tel is sitting very quietly at Table 4 with a Cerveza El Pom he keeps picking up and putting down without drinking. Sharon has asked if he's alright three times. He says he's fine. He is not fine.
Jack Grealish is missing the World Cup through injury. A stress fracture. He also missed Euro 2024 through injury. He is 30 years old, which means if England reach the final and win it — which we are going to do, Dave has written this on the fixture list — Grealish will have missed both finals England have reached in 60 years. He will watch from a sofa. Probably in Alderley Edge. He will be in excellent physical condition apart from the fracture. His hair will look magnificent. He will have no medal. He will have extremely good hair and no medal. This is not a metaphor for anything. It is just very sad.
Dave has, in time, made peace with Tuchel's selections in the way a man makes peace with something he fundamentally disagrees with but cannot change. The squad is named. The names are what they are. Jordan Henderson is going to his fourth World Cup at 35. Ivan Toney is going to his first at 30. Djed Spence is going. Foden is not going. Palmer is not going. Trent is not going.
"Right," Dave said, on the morning of 23 May, the day after the squad was announced. "Right. Kane's going. Bellingham's going. Saka's going. Rice is going. You know what? We're going to win it." He put down his Cerveza El Pom. He picked it back up. "But Foden, though."
Every tournament since 1990, Dave has explained why this one is the one. The reasons change. The outcome doesn't. Here, for the first time, is the complete record. Filed with the assistance of a beermat, four Cerveza El Poms, and 36 years of evidence that suggests none of this is different.
Dave from Wolverhampton has been watching England at the World Cup since Italia 90. He was 24. He had more hair. He cried when Pearce missed. He cried when Waddle missed. He cried when Gazza cried. He has been absolutely certain, at the beginning of every single tournament since, that this time England will win it. He has been wrong every time. He has 15 reasons this time is different. They are, as follows, the same reasons he had last time. And the time before that.
| YEAR | WHY IT WAS DIFFERENT (DAVE'S REASON) | WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED |
|---|---|---|
| 1990 | "Gazza's in the best form of his life. Lineker knows where the goal is. Bobby Robson's been there before. This is England's time." | Semi-final. Lost on penalties to West Germany. Pearce. Waddle. Dave cried. He was 24 years old and full of hope. He has been watching it drain away in equal measure ever since. |
| 1996 | "Home tournament. Wembley. Shearer's back. Gazza's goal against Scotland. Football's coming home. It actually might be coming home this time." | Semi-final. Lost on penalties to Germany. Southgate missed. The penalty. The famous one. The one he was later given a job to fix. He did not fix it. |
| 1998 | "Owen. Did you see what Owen did to Argentina? He's 18. He's the best striker in the world. Argentina are frightened of us." | Round of 16. Lost on penalties to Argentina. Batty, who had never taken a penalty in professional football, missed it. He said afterwards he didn't take penalties in training. He was selected to take a penalty. These facts coexist without explanation. |
| 2002 | "Golden Generation. Beckham, Owen, Scholes, Gerrard, Ferdinand. We've got the best squad in the world. Sven knows what he's doing. We'll win it out there." | Quarter-final. Lost to Brazil 2-1. Ronaldinho's free-kick lobbed Seaman from 40 yards. Dave was in Benidorm. He watched it. He did not speak for 45 minutes after the final whistle, which remains his longest silence on record in The Pomeranian Inn. |
| 2004 | "Rooney. He's 18. Did you see him at the Euros? He's the real one. Beckham, Owen, Rooney — that front three is unstoppable." | Quarter-final. Rooney injured in the tournament. Lost on penalties to Portugal. Beckham slipped. Vassell missed in the shootout. The man who didn't take penalties in training had been replaced by a man who couldn't stand up when taking his. |
| 2006 | "The Golden Generation at their peak. Rooney's back fit. Gerrard and Lampard in the same team, finally. Germany's in our half. We can avoid them." | Quarter-final. Germany. Rooney sent off. Ronaldo winked. Lampard, Gerrard and Carragher all missed penalties. Gerrard said they'd practised all week. This information did not help. |
| 2010 | "Capello's got them organised. Rooney's fit. We've learned from the past. No more Sven-style romance. This is a proper, professional setup." | Round of 16. Germany 4-1 England. Lampard's shot was a foot over the line and not given. Goal-line technology would have fixed this. It was introduced two years later. Two years too late for Frank Lampard, for England, and for Dave, who has told this story at every opportunity for 16 years. |
| 2014 | "Fresh start. Hodgson's got them playing with heart again. Rooney's fit. Sturridge is in the form of his life. Brazil could suit us." | Eliminated in the group stage. Lost to Italy, drew with Costa Rica, lost to Uruguay. Luis Suárez bit Chiellini and still scored. Dave watched the Costa Rica draw at The Pomeranian Inn and ordered a Cerveza El Pom that took him 45 minutes to finish. He normally finishes a Cerveza El Pom in 11 minutes. |
| 2016 | "Hodgson's out. Southgate's in. Clean slate. Young squad. Hungry. No expectations. This could be the tournament where it all clicks." | Knocked out by Iceland. Iceland. Population: 334,000. England: 56 million. Iceland scored from a long throw. Roy Hodgson resigned during the post-match interview. He was still answering the question when he stopped being England manager. |
| 2018 | "Southgate's got them playing as a team. Young squad. Nothing to lose. Harry Kane's on fire. Penalties? We won on penalties. We WON on penalties. IT'S COMING HOME." | Semi-final. Croatia. England were 1-0 up. Croatia equalised. Croatia won in extra time. It came very much not home. Dave sang It's Coming Home for four days straight. He stopped on the evening of 11 July 2018. He has not sung it since. He hums it occasionally. He stops himself when he notices. |
| 2021 | "Finals. At Wembley. Southgate's got the best England generation since the Golden Generation. Bellingham's 17. Saka's 19. It's their time." | Euro final. Lost to Italy on penalties. Saka, Sancho, Rashford — the three youngest players on the pitch — were the three who missed. Saka was 19. Dave could not watch. He watched. He could not not watch. He has never described what he looked like in the moment Saka's penalty was saved. Nobody has asked him directly. They know. |
| 2022 | "Bellingham's older. Kane's the best in the world. Saka's matured. Henderson's been through it. Southgate's learned from the final. We know how to get there now." | Quarter-final. France. Kane missed a penalty. He scored the equaliser from the spot first. Then he put the second one over the bar. England were out. Dave said "he's only human." This is the most generous thing Dave has said about any England player since Paul Scholes was left out of the 2002 squad despite being, objectively, the best midfielder in it. |
| 2024 | "Southgate's finally got it right. Bellingham's a superstar. The squad's deeper than ever. Two finals in three years. We know the route. We are building." | Euro final. Again. Lost to Spain 2-1. Olmo and Oyarzabal. A tournament in which England played some of the least convincing football seen at a major final since the 1970s and somehow reached the last game. Southgate resigned. Dave said he had done a decent job. He meant it. This surprised several people. |
| 2026 | "Tuchel is different. He's German — I find that ironic but I'm open-minded. He's won the Champions League. He knows what pressure feels like. Bellingham's 22. Saka's at his peak. Kane's still got it. And honestly? Not having Foden is actually — no it isn't. I can't do that. But the rest of it. I really think this is the one." | PENDING — 36 days to Dallas |
"Every time I say it's different I mean it. I don't say it to be optimistic. I say it because I look at the squad and I see something. I see a team that could do it. I've been wrong every time. That doesn't mean I'm wrong this time. It just means I've been wrong every other time."
There is something almost magnificent about Dave's consistency. Not the outcomes — the outcomes are uniformly dismal and exhaustively documented. But the consistency of the belief itself. The complete inability of accumulated evidence to dent a confidence that is rebuilt, from scratch, every two years, with the same materials and the same structural flaw, and arrives at the same conclusion with the same certainty each time.
Dave watched England lose on penalties in 1990, 1996, 1998, 2004, 2006, 2012, and 2021. He watched them go out to Iceland. He watched Roy Hodgson resign mid-answer. He watched the Lampard goal not be given. He watched Batty step up for a penalty he didn't practice. He watched Ronaldo wink. He has watched all of it, from Table 4 or a variation of it, since 1990, and he has concluded — with the rigour of a man who has given this a great deal of thought — that this time is different.
He might be right. He has been wrong 15 times. The 16th time he is wrong does not make this the 16th time he was wrong before he was right. It makes it the 16th time. Dave knows this. Dave orders another Cerveza El Pom. Dave says this is England's year.
The Pomeranian Inn, 11:23am. The Bloody Marys are finished. Jonny has a plan. Jonny's plans have a 0% success rate. This one involves a hire car, a pair of sunglasses from the gift shop, and the same iPhone he uses to lose money on accumulators.
The Pomeranian Inn, 9:47am. Full English on the table. Bloody Marys deployed. The squad is out, the shock has settled, and a new and deeply important question has arrived at Table 4 via Jonny's phone.
Thomas Tuchel has named his 26. Foden is out. Palmer is out. Maguire is out. Trent is out. Ivan Toney — who plays in Saudi Arabia and has had two minutes under Tuchel — is in. Sharon has already looked him up on Google. She says he has a lovely smile.
At 10am on Friday 22 May 2026, Thomas Tuchel walked out at Wembley Stadium and named his 26-man England squad for the FIFA World Cup in the United States, Canada and Mexico. The squad was revealed via a special film soundtracked by The Beatles' Come Together. Dave was watching on Sharon's iPad. The telly in The Pom only gets Spanish channels. Tel broke the remote in 2024 and has never admitted it.
The reaction at The Pomeranian Inn was immediate, loud, and conducted entirely in the language of people who have been drinking Cerveza El Pom since 9am. Dave is gutted about Foden. Sharon is very excited about Ivan Toney. Tel is staring at the middle distance. Jonny is WhatsApping his mate to tell him his protein shake intel was correct about Henderson but wrong about Welbeck.
Phil Foden (Man City, 26) — PFA Player of the Year 2024. FWA Footballer of the Year 2024. Not going to the World Cup. "He's our best player. Was. Is. I don't know anymore." — Dave, Cerveza El Pom #4.
Cole Palmer (Chelsea, 24) — Scored in the Euro 2024 final. Not going. "He's 24. He's got 20 years ahead of him. But he's not going now. Now. When we might actually win it." — Dave, who does not believe we will actually win it.
Trent Alexander-Arnold (Real Madrid, 27) — Best right-back in the world, arguably. Not going. Last cap: June 2025. Djed Spence is going instead. Tel has not spoken for 11 minutes.
Harry Maguire (Man United, 33) — "Shocked and gutted." 66 caps. Three major tournaments. Outstanding for United this season. Not going. Sharon collected her fiver at 10:02am.
Jack Grealish (Everton, 30) — Stress fracture. Misses his second consecutive major tournament. "He's got nice hair." — Sharon. She is right.
All the news from The Pomeranian Inn, Rincon de Loix, Benidorm. EUR1.50 Cerveza El Pom. Unlimited optimism. Zero trophies. Our correspondent Dave has been on the ground since Italia 90.
Benidorm is the spiritual home of English football optimism. Every major tournament, tens of thousands of English fans descend on the strip. Union Jacks hang from every balcony. St George's crosses are tattooed on shoulders. Three Lions blasts from karaoke bars at 2pm on a Tuesday. The beer is EUR1.50. The sun is always shining. England are always going to win the World Cup.
This is where the dream lives. Not in the boardrooms of the FA. Not in the tactical analysis at St George's Park. The dream lives in a plastic chair, in front of a screen that's slightly too bright, with a Cerveza El Pom in hand, and absolute certainty in the face of all available evidence.
Thomas Tuchel. German. Won the Champions League with Chelsea. Won the Bundesliga with Bayern Munich. Lost both jobs after falling out with the board. Now in charge of England. Classic England appointment. Dave says he's the one.
| Nationality | German (irony fully noted) |
| Champions League wins | 1 (Chelsea, 2021) |
| Bundesliga wins | 1 (Bayern, 2024) |
| Previous England manager | Gareth Southgate (2 finals, 0 trophies) |
| Dave's verdict | "He's the one. I can feel it." |
| Statistical context | England have had 16 managers since 1966. 0 trophies. |
| Date | Match | Dave's Prediction |
|---|---|---|
| 17 June | England vs Croatia | "Easy 3-0. Bellingham hat-trick." |
| 21 June | England vs USA | "Should be fine. 2-0." |
| 25 June | England vs Panama | "We'll top the group easy." |
| VERDICT: Dave is correct about the group. It is what happens in the knockout rounds that concerns the data. | ||
Press the button. Receive the official post-match statement. Dave will nod along.
England have played 11 penalty shootouts in major tournaments. Won 4. Lost 7. Win rate: 36.4%. The National Lottery pays out at 50%. England are statistically worse at penalties than the National Lottery. This is not bad luck. This is a pattern.
| Year | Tournament | Opponent | Result | Who Missed | The Quote |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1990 | WC Semi-Final | West Germany | LOST 3-4 | Pearce, Waddle | "I just couldn't look." — Pearce (he looked) |
| 1996 | Euro Semi-Final | Germany | LOST 5-6 | Southgate | "I should have scored." — Southgate (later appointed England manager to fix the penalty problem) |
| 1998 | WC Round of 16 | Argentina | LOST 3-4 | Batty | "I don't take penalties in training." — Batty (he was selected to take a penalty) |
| 2004 | Euro QF | Portugal | LOST 5-6 | Vassell | "The pressure got to me." — Vassell |
| 2006 | WC QF | Portugal | LOST 1-3 | Lampard, Gerrard, Carragher | "We practised all week." — Gerrard (this made it worse) |
| 2012 | Euro QF | Italy | LOST 2-4 | A. Cole, A. Young | "It's just one of those things." — Ashley Young |
| 2018 | WC Round of 16 | Colombia | WON 4-3 | — | "It's coming home." — Everyone (it did not come home) |
| 2020 | Euro Final | Italy | LOST 2-3 | Saka, Sancho, Rashford | "Penalties are a lottery." — Southgate (who missed the most famous one in 1996) |
In 1996, Gareth Southgate missed the most famous penalty in England history, sending Germany to the final. In 2016, he was appointed England manager. His brief included improving England's penalty record. In 2021, he lost a penalty shootout in the Euro final. He resigned in 2024. The man who missed the penalty was given the job of making England better at penalties. He did not make England better at penalties. He is now a television pundit. Dave thinks he did a decent job overall.
Experience the authentic England penalty shootout. Press the button. Take the penalty.
England have had 17 managers since Alf Ramsey won the World Cup in 1966. They have won 0 trophies. Dave says they always get the wrong manager. The data suggests the manager is not the problem.
| Manager | Years | Exit | Defining Moment | Bottle Job Rating |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Alf Ramsey | 1963–74 | Sacked | Won the World Cup. The only one. Sacked anyway. | 2/10 — He actually won it |
| Don Revie | 1974–77 | Resigned mid-campaign for UAE job | Left England while still in qualifying. Took the money. | 9/10 — Took the money |
| Ron Greenwood | 1977–82 | Retired | Failed to qualify for 1978. Qualified for 1982, went out unbeaten. | 5/10 |
| Bobby Robson | 1982–90 | Left by mutual consent | Semi-final 1990. Lost on penalties to West Germany. Cried. Dave cried too. | 3/10 — Genuinely unlucky |
| Graham Taylor | 1990–93 | Resigned | Failed to qualify for USA 94. "Do I not like that." | 8/10 |
| Terry Venables | 1994–96 | Left after Euros | Semi-final Euro 96. Lost on penalties to Germany. Southgate. | 4/10 |
| Glenn Hoddle | 1996–99 | Sacked | Sacked for saying disabled people were being punished for sins in a past life. Not a football reason. | 10/10 — Not for football reasons |
| Kevin Keegan | 1999–2000 | Resigned in the Wembley toilets | Lost to Germany. Resigned immediately afterwards. In the toilets. This is confirmed. | 9/10 — The toilets |
| Sven-Goran Eriksson | 2001–06 | Left after World Cup | The Golden Generation. Quarter-finals. Every tournament. Also: various tabloid stories. | 6/10 |
| Steve McClaren | 2006–07 | Sacked | The Wally with the Brolly. Failed to qualify for Euro 2008. Stood on the touchline with an umbrella. | 9/10 — The umbrella |
| Fabio Capello | 2008–12 | Resigned | Quarter-finals. Resigned over captaincy row. Barely spoke English. | 6/10 |
| Roy Hodgson | 2012–16 | Resigned | Lost to Iceland at Euro 2016. Iceland. Population: 330,000. England: 56 million. | 10/10 — Iceland |
| Sam Allardyce | 2016 | Sacked | One game. Sacked after newspaper sting. One game. | 10/10 — One game |
| Gareth Southgate | 2016–24 | Resigned | Two finals. Zero trophies. Missed the most famous penalty in England history in 1996. Was then appointed to fix England's penalty problem. | 5/10 — Got further than most, won nothing |
| Thomas Tuchel | 2024–present | TBD | German. Won the Champions League. Dave says he's the one. | TBD — Dave is optimistic |
2002–2010. Beckham. Scholes. Gerrard. Lampard. Ferdinand. Terry. Owen. Rooney. The best England squad in 40 years. They reached the quarter-finals four times. They won nothing. Dave says they just needed a bit of luck.
World Cup quarter-final. Brazil 2-1 England. Ronaldinho's free-kick from 40 yards lobbed David Seaman. Beckham had missed a penalty earlier in the tournament. Dave blames Seaman. The data notes the penalty.
Euro quarter-final. Lost on penalties. Beckham slipped taking his penalty in normal time. Vassell missed in the shootout. "The pressure got to me." He was selected specifically to take a penalty.
World Cup quarter-final. Rooney sent off. Ronaldo winked at the Portugal bench. Lampard, Gerrard and Carragher all missed penalties. "We practised all week." — Gerrard. This made it worse.
World Cup Round of 16. Germany 4-1 England. Lampard's shot crossed the line by a foot. Not given. No goal-line technology. Germany won 4-1. Goal-line technology was introduced in 2012. Two years too late for Frank Lampard.
Frank Lampard and Steven Gerrard were the two best midfielders of their generation. They could not play together effectively. England played both anyway, every tournament, for eight years. Neither played well together. England won nothing. Dave says they were unlucky. The data says England played two players who couldn't play together for eight consecutive years and expected different results.
30 July 1966. Wembley. England 4-2 West Germany (AET). Geoff Hurst hat-trick. The disputed goal. The one star. Dave has a framed photo in his downstairs loo.
Geoff Hurst's shot in extra time hit the crossbar and bounced down. Did it cross the line? Soviet linesman Tofik Bakhramov said yes. West Germany said no. The debate has continued for 60 years. Goal-line technology would have settled it in 0.3 seconds. It did not exist in 1966. England have one World Cup. It may or may not have been won with a goal that may or may not have crossed the line.
England won the 1966 World Cup on home soil, at Wembley, in front of a home crowd. Man had not yet walked on the moon. The Beatles were still together. Harold Wilson was Prime Minister. England have not won a major tournament in the 60 years since. Dave points to the one star on his England shirt every tournament. "We've done it before." He is correct. He has been saying it for 60 years.
Dave has a framed photo of the 1966 World Cup final in his flat in Wolverhampton. It is in the downstairs loo. His wife left in 2019. The 1966 photo is still there. He has watched the Geoff Hurst goal 400 times. He is certain it crossed the line. He is also certain England will win the 2026 World Cup. His certainty is not diminished by evidence.
England wear one star on their shirt. For 1966. Argentina wear three. Germany wear four. Brazil wear five. France wear two. Dave points to England's star before every tournament. "We've done it before. We can do it again." He is technically correct. England have done it once. 60 years ago. With a goal that may not have been a goal. Against a nation that has since won it four times.
Take this card to The Pomeranian Inn. EUR1.50 Cerveza El Pom per square. Dave has already completed three squares and the tournament hasn't started.
The Pomeranian Inn, Rincon de Loix, Benidorm. Table 4. By the screen. Since 1990. These are the people bringing you England's World Cup coverage from the most important vantage point in world football.
All reporting is conducted from Table 4 at The Pomeranian Inn, Benidorm, between the hours of 9am and whenever the bar closes. Sources include the Daily Mirror, TalkSPORT, Jonny's mate's WhatsApp, and a deep, irrational, completely unjustified belief that this time will be different. It will not be different. It has never been different. Dave knows this. Dave orders another Cerveza El Pom. Dave says this is our year.