MetLife Stadium in New Jersey will host the final on July 19. Somewhere between that date and Thursday’s opening match in Mexico City — where co-hosts Mexico kick off against South Africa — lies the most layered, most emotionally charged World Cup in recent memory. This is the tournament that promises to be both a grand farewell and a bold beginning, a competition whose subtext may ultimately eclipse its text.

For the first time, 48 nations will compete across 104 matches in eight rounds, spread across three host countries.

The idea being sold is a World Cup of North America — a celebration of football across the United States, Canada and Mexico. The reality is rather different. Before a ball has been kicked, the shadow of Donald Trump has fallen long and dark across the tournament. Iraqi striker Aymen Hussein was detained for hours upon arriving in Chicago; the team’s photographer was denied entry outright. At least 90 Moroccan fans were turned away at the US consulate, despite documented travel histories to previous World Cups and the Paris Olympics.

Senegal and Uzbekistan reported unusually aggressive security screenings. Referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan, who would have been the first Somali official to take charge of a World Cup match, was sent home after the Trump administration refused him entry. Iran, forced to sleep in Mexico and cross the border to play in the United States, are already crying foul over visa denials to their fans — a grievance compounded by the American military strikes on Iran on February 28.

When Fifa awarded the 2022 World Cup to Qatar, the chorus of criticism from human rights organisations and European governments was deafening. This time, faced with a considerably more chaotic host, those same voices have been rather muted. Convenient, one might say. It always is.

At least the football promises to be extraordinary. Football, at its most maximalist — and at its most sentimental.

This World Cup will, in all likelihood, be the final act for the two greatest players of the modern era. Lionel Messi, the Argentine captain who finally lifted the monkey off his back in Lusail in 2022, arrives seeking a second consecutive world title. Messi turns 39 on June 24, right in the middle of the group stage, and with the 2030 World Cup arriving when he would be 43, this tournament could well be his farewell.

He arrives as the player with the most World Cup match appearances (26), holding the Argentine record for goals and assists with 13 and 8, respectively. Defending champions Argentina are among the favourites, and if Messi lifts the trophy again on that July evening in New Jersey, it would be the stuff of myth, the most perfect ending in sporting history.

No less poignant is the arithmetic of Cristiano Ronaldo, who, like Messi, is set to play in his sixth World Cup. The Portuguese great arrives heading into what is arguably his country’s most promising World Cup cycle in recent memory, even if his own body is no longer operating at peak capacity at 41.

Portugal this time have more than just their captain’s force of will. Surrounded by a squad loaded with talent, including Bruno Fernandes and Nuno Mendes, Portugal arrive as reigning Uefa Nations League champions, with the 2026 World Cup representing Ronaldo’s last realistic opportunity to claim the one trophy that has eluded him. He has won every human accolade the game can offer — and yet that golden trophy remains the gap in an otherwise complete biography.

Then there is Luka Modric, football’s most improbable great. Now 40, the Croatian legend is preparing for his fifth World Cup appearance, having featured in every edition since 2006, and holds the record for most World Cup appearances in Croatian history. He guided his country to the final in 2018 and third place in 2022. At an age when most sportspersons are contemplating their second careers, Modric still turns on a pass with the economy of a chess grandmaster. His presence in North America will feel less like competition and more like a valedictory tour.

But tournaments do not live on nostalgia alone. The future has a face, and it belongs to Lamine Yamal, the one player around whom an entire generation’s hopes coalesce. At 18, he is already a European champion. He plays for Barcelona with the nonchalance of a man who has never been told what he cannot do — leaving defenders stranded, summoning the extraordinary from the routine, that infectious smile never far away.

To watch Yamal in full flow is to understand why football, at its best, makes the rest of life feel briefly beside the point. Spain are among the favourites, and the burden of expectation on those shoulders is immense. Yamal has time on his side. A World Cup winner’s medal will come. Probably sooner rather than later.

Around these two poles — the departing and the arriving — the competition fans out into fascinating subplots. France have arguably the best roster in the 48-team field. Kylian Mbappé is the headliner, but there is also Michael Olise, Ousmane Dembélé, Bradley Barcola and Désiré Doué in attack. It is, quite simply, an embarrassment of riches.

Didier Deschamps, who steps down after this tournament after 14 storied years in charge, must agonise nightly over whom to leave out. When Deschamps took over in 2012, José Mourinho was at Real Madrid, and Sir Alex Ferguson was still patrolling the Old Trafford touchline. The world has changed entirely around him. They are looking to make their third consecutive final appearance — a dynasty in the making, if they can seize it.

There will also be returns to savour. Twelve months ago, the suggestion that Manuel Neuer would play at another World Cup would have been laughed out of the room. The German goalkeeper, 40 years old and still carrying the memory of a devastating injury, has not only recovered but earned his recall to the national side. Remarkable.

And Carlo Ancelotti, ever the pragmatist, has placed his faith in Neymar — the injury-prone Brazilian genius who, despite being six years younger than Neuer, may well be playing his last World Cup. In footballing terms, both men are playing on borrowed time. Both will be worth watching. As will be Vinicius Jr, at the peak of his powers, carrying the weight of a 24-year wait for the trophy for the five-time World Cup winners.

For Harry Kane, the arithmetic is less forgiving. It is now or never for the England captain. Had that penalty not struck the bar in the quarter-finals against France in Qatar, who knows how differently the story might have read. But Kane is a man transformed at Bayern Munich — goals accumulated with relentless, almost brutal efficiency. The wait for England’s first World Cup since 1966 has entered its seventh decade. If it ends anywhere, it could end here.

Fifa’s expansion to 48 teams has reshaped the tournament’s demands. There is now a round of 32, meaning the eventual champion must win five knockout matches. No team can afford a single bad night. It raises the stakes and, arguably, the spectacle.

There are legitimate concerns about this World Cup — about who it excludes, about who benefits, about the politics that have already infected it before the first tackle has been made. Those concerns deserve to be aired. But football has always existed in the world as it is, not as it should be. And when the Estadio Azteca — that great cathedral of the game, that ground where Pelé triumphed in 1970 and Maradona conjured magic in 1986 — fills on Thursday, the ball will roll, and the world will watch.

It will watch an old guard making their final arguments, a new order staking their first claims, and somewhere in between, a football willing to be surprised.