In the nick of time, almost six-year-old has become head-over-heels obsessed with the beautiful game – marvelling at its greatest stars, hooked by a cast of new characters in vibrant kits, kidsplaining their celebrations to his parents. What a privilege to share those earliest footballing memories with him, writes BBC Sport senior journalist Alex Bysouth.
Four years ago, any effort to watch a game together was met with the same stubborn toddler resistance as suggesting a midday nap. That World Cup in Qatar was lived through a sleep-deprived haze in soft-play centres and binge-watching Bluey. But the past few weeks have brought an unexpected joy. Because, yes, there is nothing like your first World Cup, but there is also nothing like the first World Cup you enjoy with your kid.
“Alex Bysouth reflects on the unexpected joy of sharing the 2026 World Cup with his almost-six-year-old son.”
We thought it might not happen, and that would be absolutely fine, because falling in love with the sport has to come naturally – through knees grazed on the playground and a childhood intrigue that breeds between young mates. Suddenly, here we are, knee-deep in Panini swapsies, reeling off an all-star French attack, pointing out the flags and badges of all 48 nations. Shiny Brazil!
Of course, the medium through which he is engaging with this World Cup is different from our childhood experiences, which in turn are different to our parents'. Grandad saw Pele at Goodison Park? Poignant for Grandad because he is an Evertonian, impressive for the little one because his favourite YouTuber – Chuffsters – pulled a 99-ranked Pele icon card.
This is not a bedtime-friendly World Cup for those this side of the pond – we have not yet stayed up late and there is no dashing into school early, class teacher wheeling out a chunky television to catch Senegal shock France. Instead, this World Cup is about climbing into our bed at first light with his little brother, listing yesterday's fixtures and predicting which star…
The World Cup cycle seems to pedal round far quicker as an adult. Tournaments once so defined now blur into adulthood ambivalence, postcards plotted along the timeline of your life. Childhood heroes become a cut-to in the crowd – Ronaldo, the original, with Roberto Carlos and Kaka – greying legends in suits instead of swashbuckling boots. Still a twinkle in their eye. Aura with achy knees.
But seeing the wide-eyed wonder through which his son views the tournament has been an unexpected joy for Bysouth, a reminder that there is nothing like your first World Cup – and nothing like the first one you share with your child.