Your first World Cup will always stick with you, and remain treasured, no matter how utterly disappointing it looks in retrospect; trust me, I'm an Italia 90 boy. The neutral probably considers Italia 90 as the worst of all World Cups, but frankly, fuck that. You've got to Hold and Give.
Trying to remember my best moment from Italia 90 was quite difficult: I had to go to bed before extra time in the Belgium match, and whilst thinking about Turin fills me with pride for our 12 brave soldiers, it's scarcely a night to describe as Great.
So we're left with this.
This remains the footballing moment that gave my father the most pleasure, and taught me a valuable lesson for life: if you can manage to take joy in the failure of others, you won't need to have any success yourself. Thanks dad.
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