Wales have just dug out a draw against the States. But Wales do that, eh? Get outplayed and yet *find something*. And more often than not it’s the Golfing Enigma Himself, Mr G Bale Esq, who wields the silver spade. (Or o-kaay, wedge).

The other unfathomable truism – that the skipper and nonpareil would, according to custom, hardly have a meaningful touch, prior to the moment of godhood – also came to pass. The fella did nowt, before ju-ust easing his body across the defender’s incoming challenge, duly drawing enough, quasi-clumsy contact to force the decision. Bale was honestly largely ordinary (again)… but was the hero (again).

At the half, the Americans swaggered off, having delivered a consummate lesson. They were energetic, incisive and even stylish. Wales looked – or were made to look – deeply ordinary. Weah got the goal: there could have been more if the USA had found quality in the box to match the quality around the park. Players, fans and pundits of a celtic persuasion were longing for the break from about the twelfth minute, such was the mauling: *except*, of course, the second goal didn’t come… and there’s always Him.

The inevitable swap – Moore for James – changed things, as did the general lifting of the hwyl, from the Welsh. Now not only was there an outlet, there was possession and soon, hope. Who knows what Page and his staff said but within a few minutes the reds were ‘spiritually’ on the up and if not being thrillingly threatening, then at least bearing in on that US box. Extraordinarily, an equaliser felt likely.

The penalty came lateish, after a flurry or two from both sides which failed to produce the glaring opportunity to seal something. Moore should have scored with a header he simply met too hard: the USA raced in and around but rarely at Hennessey’s net. It was even, in short, in that second period. Until Gaz did his thing again.

The draw means Wales may need to be cheering the English, come Friday night. The USA may really test that Maguire/Stones combo if they show the flair and movement we saw here but Southgate’s team will be marginal favourites. Iran were so poor it’s hard to see them registering a point in the group but (with all due respect) it feels like Wales are least likely to rack up goals against them, or anyone else. Meaning the England/Wales fixture will be another one where the men in red may need to play above their capacity – and dig something out.

Here’s what happened earlier: England v Iran. And the socio-political *observations*.

Ok. It may be that a certain social medium is descending into the swamp from whence it came, only a deeper, probably more foul-smelling affair, if that’s at all possible. (A supra-Musky slew: that work?)

Maybe not, but of course in the month of #QatarWorldCup2022, sludge and slop of the moral/philosophical variety is gonna be inevitable, nevermind possible. But hey, lighten up! It may be that Infantino is to sport, to ‘gay’ness and to integrity what Elon bach is to civility, truth and Workers’ Rights. And it may be be that swamps are merging everywhere and the Orange Gibbon is back and Tesco Spicy Wedges have gone up 30p but… IT DOESN’T MATTER BECAUSE I WON TWITTER with my #beyondsatire!

*Just before* Qatar had the benefit of that deliciously mysterious off-side thang and waaaay before the ridiculous non-penalty for England after two blokes rugby-tackled Maguire and Stones, in plain sight, in the Iran box. In other words hand me the trophy and let’s be done with it. Nobody’s bothered, are they, about the actual football? And the actual football is as crassly-anarchic-in-a-bad-way as the whole god-damned concept, anyway, yeh?

EVERYTHING is #beyondsatire. Arid. The appalling, criminal indulgence and environmental disaster of it. The Fake Fans, Fake Football Culture; the half-time disappearing trick. The raw and obvious corruption. The gross incompetence as well as the world-level hypocrisy: even the legitimate stuff, the acceptable cultural differences like no beer (unless you have a monstrous wedge) have been handled with the sensitivity and intelligence of an Orange Gibbon. I was going to watch none of it. But then work was cancelled, so waddayadoo?

England started with impressively unconvincing ‘authority’, against an Iranian side who had boldly refrained from singing their national anthem. (They win my Actual Cup for this, on the assumption that it really was a united gesture against recent violence and oppression from their regime, but the gesture may have weighed so heavily that they could not slough away the fear – for themselves, for their families). Almost unthinkably, in terms of pure footie – yeh, I know! – Iran were almost certainly worse than Qatar.

Trippier and Saka could be weirdly displacing easy-peasy passes. Maguire and Stones could look cool-but-also-ready-to-spring-an ut-ter-howler. It didn’t matter. England didn’t need to find their flow – got nowhere near it – until their third goal went in. (And no I don’t care if that sounds daft: the performance was somehow a tad invertebrate, again and if I was Southgate I’d be having words about consistency and ‘bloody execution’, at the half: even three-nil up).

All the goals were good: Bellingham’s looping nod; Saka’s flush drive; Sterling’s sharp prod from Kane’s fabulous, whipped cross. But in every square yard of the pitch there seemed to be a bloke in red failing to do his job. England had space to play, time to play and – it very soon became obvious – little to fear. Southgate’s side, despite this open invitation to enjoy and express, were again that mixture of brightness and infuriatingly one-paced ‘approach play’. They approached mainly by polite request, written in triplicate. Maguire played some wonder-passes but together with Stones and Trippier he rarely stirred the action. Bellingham was looking silky as always but not much of consequence was being threaded into midfield and on from there: not snappily and smartly. Mount does all that but barely had an intervention. As a consequence, Iran could endure – were allowed to.

Even when the goals started to happen, English energy and concentration levels were mixed. Too many simple passes were missing their mark: only Kane seemed determined and able to make every contribution count. Overwhelmingly the possession of the pill was with the fellas in white. So where were Sterling and Mount, for half the match? Making quietly ineffective runs. Making quietly ineffective wall-passes backwards.

This may feel like it under-appreciates England, and the alleged complexities of international football. But I stick by it. Iran were miserable (I’m afraid) and it seems crazy that it wasn’t til the leggy dynamism of Rashford and the old-school centre-forwardism of Wilson was introduced that Southgate’s team roared again. The United striker grabbed a neat goal with his third touch and Grealish was gifted a tap-in by Wor Callum’s generous assist.

Saka’s game was encapsulated by his second goal; he ran forward with thinnish control and confidence, scuffed his shot but in it went. He was subbed and he will rightly play next time: but I hope somebody’s showing him video and stats around his contributions. Far too many are sloppy for a player of his qualities.

Iran scored two (somehow, late-on) but conceded six. Dreamland and yet not, for England. Stones hauling down his oppo to give away a pen may have felt wildly ironic, given the early ridicu-grapple-which-came-to-naught. But it was dumb… and the decision was right. Amongst his justifiably constructive appreciations for the fine goals and largely serene domination, Mr Southgate will be having words about that concession. The gaffer will know that drift and slackness will draw punishment.

Wales v USA is where this group starts. England, having plainly started well, need to extend beyond, prove they are better. Because they are.

Pic from BBC Sport.