How ITV have broken down my World Cup cynicism with vistas and Cars nostalgia | OneFootball

I really haven’t wanted to get excited about the 2026 World Cup. I almost succeeded.

You often hear that the World Cup is like Christmas, with the build-up being the magical component of it all. As Planet Football editor, this year has felt uncannily like a numb parent putting on a brave face for the kids as we churn out preview content.

The tournament isn’t ours anymore. Not that it ever has been in my lifetime, co-opted by the lizardmen of FIFA and their assorted cronies.

And I almost envy people who can put aside all the bullsh*t and focus on the football, blissfully unaware or unmoved by all the background noise that’s been deafening in 2026.

I have reservations about the format and how the unsociable kick-off times threaten to condemn the next six weeks of my life to schizophrenic shift patterns and less of the socialising that makes these tournaments special.

One by one, I’ve seen my mates succumb to World Cup fever while feeling dispassionately above it all. Until I saw ITV’s intro.

The first requirement is for the music to give the event its sense of place and occasion; Nessun Dorma forever occupies first place on that particular podium.

By choosing ‘Life Is a Highway’, previously used in the film Cars, ITV have instantly given the tournament its future Proustian Rush. It couldn’t sound more American if it’d been deep-fried and served with a litre of Coke.

But Mexico and Canada aren’t neglected either. Across 80 sun-drenched seconds, we get the familiar mix of classic World Cup footage interspersed with landscapes usually confined to your local cinema.

I first started wavering when Bobby Robson popped up, smiling ruefully on that Turin bench and giving everyone a lesson in losing gracefully, but I still just about managed to hold it together.

Alas, the phoney war was officially over after 38 seconds with a lethal one-two of the chorus kicking in and a fresh-behind-the-ears Michael Owen about to score that goal in 1998.

Sitting thousands of miles away from the action, my mouth broke into an involuntary smile and a rogue shiver shot up my spine. The b*stards had got me.

The rest of the montage passed in something of a post-coital blur, a sensory overload of images washing over the screen and well-intentioned resistance forgotten.

Ending with four seconds of faint crowd noise, ITV’s producers are basking in a job well done. The whole thing is underpinned by confidence that’s both alluring and mildly infuriating. I felt simultaneously cleansed and in need of a cold shower.

They have form for this, from their France ’98 tub-thumper to the peerless ‘Braaaaasil’ croon in 2014 that gave every right-thinking Brit an urge to risk it all and relocate to Copacabana beach.

I often think of ITV as the home of inconsequential fluff – Love Island, incredibly, is still going despite being as dated as Gareth Southgate’s waistcoat – but they consistently identify the core appeal of these tournaments: escapism.

Specifically, escapism from the grind of both domestic football and domestic life, six weeks leave from parochial dramas, grey skies and circular arguments about money.

It recognises that the World Cup elicits a childlike wonder from the stoniest of hearts, a reminder that the world is vast, exotic and that difference is meant to be celebrated rather than feared.

ITV have taken me back to 2002, a seven-year-old comprehending the existence of countries for the first time (Cameroon! Paraguay! Slovenia!) and the sensation of horizons widening without realising it.

It hammers home the importance of aesthetics to any World Cup, how the title sequence, kits or stickers matter as much as the quality of the football. We remember World Cups emotionally rather than rationally.

It also hints at a different form of escapism. There are many drawbacks to the World Cup’s status as a mega event, but it also offers an entry-level method of connection to those who need it.

The prelude to any World Cup provokes reflection on where you were four years ago. My professional career has come on leaps and bounds since Qatar 2022, but my social circle has also unavoidably shrunk.

Isolation is something that creeps up on you. Perhaps this World Cup can revive lapsed friendships, time and distance forgotten over Spain vs. Saudi Arabia in a drizzly beer garden, or create new bonds.

It may sound silly to think these thoughts and feelings were activated by a simple ITV intro. But that’s the point, isn’t it? These events are bigger than us and life-affirming at heart, despite the lizardmen’s best efforts to persuade you otherwise.

The World Cup might be in the top five of Best Things about Life. That’s why we react to Trump, Infantino and the rest with hurt instead of cold detachment.

And I really hadn’t wanted to get excited about this year’s tournament, but ITV have got me at the last.