“Not my first to watch but the only one I ever attended in person – Scotland v Brazil in the 1998 tournament opener in Paris,” says Colin Livingstone. “My chance to see legends of the game in person, Taffarel, Dunga, Ronaldo, Rivaldo, Cafu – just phenomenal. And my all time favourite, Roberto Carlos.

A very fine day in the bars of Paris with all the Brazilian fans, rounded off by bumping into a very merry Ewan McGregor in a nearby seat, who had evidently enjoyed his day too. Happy memories.”

We got Sky in 96-97, the year Ronaldo was at Barca, and he was maybe the first player that had me saying to my dad “You’ve gotta see this bloke play”, rather than him regaling me with players he’d seen. He’s not the best I’ve seen – though he’s top three – but no one has made my jaw hang open like he did because the speed of him felt and still feels impossible.

“I was eight during Italia 90,” recalls Joe Minihane. “Despite having a Mexico 86 red England top, I can’t remember that tournament but was in full campaign mode for the full works in 1990. My dad had let me try it all on in Scott Sports (RIP) in Harlow town centre, but then said we’d have to come another time. A week or so later, he said we’d go and try it on again. We wandered ‘up the town’ and I donned the white top, navy shorts and white socks in the changing room. When I began to take it off, my old man said there was no need, he’d just paid. Core memory right there! My lad is right and is buzzing (but has asked for Curacao away instead).”

It’s a beauty, is that – consider your job as a father complete, he’s good to go from here.

And the award for understatement goes to … Kyle Robertson. “My first memory is of the 1970 World Cup. As a seven-year old Chelsea fan fresh off their FA Cup win, I was excited to see Peter Bonetti fill in for Gordon Banks but also aware that there was some disappointment around his performance.”

Some disappointment!

You may have missed it, but on the SA bench is Kamogelo Sebelebele; oh man, what a name that is, musical, poetic and beautiful.

Back on telly, they’re talking about Scott McTominay, Gary Neville saying he’s a different player at Napoli to Man United. He’ll be devastated to know I’m not having that – his problem was that at United, Bruno Fernandes played his position, so he was forced deeper, but his box-crashing and finishing were excellent even then. What a life he’s made for himself in Naples, though – not just on the pitch but off it, living like a local and enjoying the love of the people as much for that as for his frankly ludicrous on-pitch deeds.

“Can I just say how much I liked Kev Dwyer’s memory of 1970?” wonders Mason Sato. “I’ve strived for a while to find someone who followed England to that World Cup. I was there in 1986 and it wasn’t easy to get visas and the cost as a 20-year-old to get there was exorbitant. I also saved weekly and only managed to get out for the second phase onwards, though the tickets and accommodation were really cheap compared to today. I’ve always wondered how it was for fans 16 years before I could do it.

My first memory of a football match at a WC was either Chile v Australia in the rain or Haiti going 1-0 up v Italy in 1974. Not sure which was first but I clearly remember the first minute of the final.”

Our teams are in, so while I get them up for you, something to dig into: here’s my playlist of South African bangers. If you’ve a Mexican equivalent, holler.

Oh man, this stuff gets me every time – we’re watching Bafana Bafana singing their way into the ground. It’s not the below, but it’s similar – and similarly affirming.

“I’m at the Gare du Nord waiting to board for Blighty,” says Harry McDonald. “My first World Cup was on radio in 1958, I was 10 years old. Danny Blanchflower and Harry Gregg were my main interest.

I’ve watched every one since except the last. I watched not one second and I felt no sense of loss. It was an appalling decision to go there. I’m definitely considering not watching any of this one either: similar reasons.”

Blanchflower and Gregg, two absolute heroes. Harry, of course, saved lives at Munich like it was nothing, while Danny is responsible for one of the great football quotations:

“The great fallacy is that the game is first and last about winning. It is nothing of the kind. The game is about glory, it is about doing things in style and with a flourish, about going out and beating the lot, not waiting for them to die of boredom.”

Shakira and Burna time! The official tune isn’t as good as the 2010 classic, but it’s a decent effort. Burna’s voice reminds me of the groove, depth and texture you get from records relative to CDs.

“My dad went out and bought a colour telly for the first World Cup I can remember, which was 1974,” writes Matt Emerson. “That West German summer was relentlessly overcast and grey in my memory, so we needn’t have bothered, but I was hooked. This will be my f14th and it’s just as good, despite the ongoing attempts to screw things up generally. You measure your life out by World Cups and I reckon I’ve got seven more left after this one, so I’m going to enjoy it.”

The tech bros will have us living beyond 300 by the time of your seventh, so we’re all good.

It’d be nice if they told us who everyone is, but so far, it’s just action, no captions or comms. There’s a lad singing in a leather tracky, underneath which things must be extremely ripe, then it’s time for some mariachi.

“I’m old,” confesses Kev Dwyer. “Watched the 1966 World Cup on TV and then as one of a group of four apprentices we all decided to save £2 per week from our wages and go and watch us retain the Jules Rimet in Mexico in 1970. Time went by, weddings happened and then there were two who headed off, the week after my 21st birthday, travelling on a trip organised by the England Football Supporters Association. Tickets to all the matches plus tickets to the final. I got to watch living football legends, and was sitting directly behind the goal when Banksy saved Pele’s shot. The Azteca was a disappointment in that our seats were so far up in the Gods that you couldn’t really make out the intricacies of the game. Great memories, hope that there’s some more made for the supporters over there.”

Brilliant!

“We are a nation of diversity, heritage and pride,” says the lead voice – words I wish were less poignant and pertinent.

“The home stadium advantage for Mexico has been duly noted but until you experience it you can’t fully appreciate it,” says Mary Waltz. “Yes, the heat and altitude is oppressive. But it is the fans that make it so intimidating. Knowledgable, vicious, non-stop support and refs often swayed by the crowd.”

I hope the fans who create that can afford to get in. On which point, we’re ready to get going, drums beating, vocals soaring, dancers in formation.

I talked earlier about first World Cups, so please do send in memories of yours. Mine was Mexico 86 – and how mad is it there’ll have been three there since England last hosted – and my main takeaway now, as an apparent adult, is how Diego Maradona gave me and my cohort an entirely false representation of what football is. For years afterwards, I thought it was possible for someone to run around everyone between them and goal, but it turns out that’s just him.

“That ITV studio is spectacular,” reckons Kev the Poet. “Almost as spectacular as the nark-off between Roy Keane and anyone else. The BBC is going to have The Ghost Of Barry Davies coming out of the Manchester Ship Canal to compete.”

It is – it’s outdoors on the Hudson, with a sensational view of Manhattan. But I’d take Barry Davies coming out of anywhere.

And the correct answer is!

I almost got away with playing this at my wedding.

“Here in the States, the pre-game crew includes, as ever, Alexi Lalas, but also has a new addition of Zlatan for this tournament,” advises Mac Scarles. “If the approximately 10 seconds of interaction I just saw is any indication, the odds are high that Zlatan just might kill Lalas with his bare hands before the tournament is over. A chemistry void for the ages. It’s going to be a fun six weeks.”

Goodness, I’m not sure it’s possible to understand football culture, spirit and soul less than Lalas does. Godspeed, Zlats old mate.

Aaaaand the first email of the competition goes too … Justin Kavanagh. “Football used to be seen as the opiate of the masses, with many stories from previous World Cups of ceasefires declared to watch games, birthrates soaring 9 months after victories … etc. However, this one feels more like a methadone clinic, with thin rations stretched out over a longer time frame, and with the dealer going uptown where he’ll find wealthier marks. Sure we’ll all watch on TV because we love the game. But more and more people who actually once participated in the game at any level are coming to the realisation that Fifa’s product is poisoned by politics and by greed, and Infantino and co have shut the gates on us.”

It takes a lot to make Sepp Blatter look like the arch liberator, doesn’t it? I wish I had something pithily amusing and reassuring to say here, but I don’t; we just have to do our best to oppose wrongness in our immediate spheres of influence.

Almost straight off the bat, ITV go to the politics – “Things that always litter a pre-tournament buildup,” says Neville. Er, do they? He goes on to say the football will take over, but Ian Wright, Roy Keane and Mark Pougatch make sure to stipulate we mustn’t let it obscure the continuing issues.

Gosh, the first montage of the tournament, of tournaments past, has me quite emotional – there’s a lot to take in, and that’s before I get going on Gary Neville’s shirt, straight off the peg from River Island c.1995.

Watching from the UK, it’s time for ITV’s credits and, if you’ve not seen them, they’re beautiful, shot on film and lush as you like.

Yes!

Quiz time: name that tune!

Ahhhh! Ding! Ding ding ding ding! Neow! Ding ding ding ding! Ta bam bam bam bam bam bam!

De ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne. De ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne. De ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne, ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne ne!