Information overload robbing tournament of its romance

THE WORLD Cup isn’t what it was. It’s twice what it was, you might say, given the expansion to 32 teams, but that’s not what we’re getting at.

The World Cup used to be about revelation, not confirmation. You found things out instead of having your opinions reinforced. There was a time it rolled into town like an arthouse gem rather than a summer blockbuster, merchandising deals and viral marketing attached; in the ’70s the build-up wasn’t nearly as all-encompassing. There was mystique. There was glamour.

Yes, there’s a dangerously slippery slope involved here. This is precisely the kind of thing that leads via a short hop to rugby (“Thomond Park now, is it? Ha — you should have been up in Ravenhill in the 80s for the interpros, that was rugby,”) or GAA (“Sure don’t be talking, wasn’t I one of the lads carried halfway down the Hill when Bomber got his third that day”).