What’s a World Cup for? To make money and give the elite (who aren’t getting a good press anywhere) the chance to fly around the world in first class, drinking Dom Perignon champagne from golden goblets. But it’s also for the “world” (the clue’s in the name), so it strikes me as a good idea to invite as many guests as one can – within reason.

A lot of the sniping and snarling that has greeted Fifa’s decision to expand the World Cup looks like the media bemoaning the “research” they will have to do to write all of those “10 players to watch” listicles that will appear as soon as the 2022 shebang has finished. There are genuine concerns about a bloated competition – the matches splattered like a Jackson Pollock painting superimposed on a 2026 calendar – but, heavens above, Fifa have actually thought it through and devised an intriguing plan that preserves the current 32-day schedule. There will be 80 matches rather than 64, but is having 16 more games once every four years really too much to bear? If we can stomach the Europa League, surely we can survive a few more World Cup games. You don’t have to watch all of them, you know.

The three-team groups will mean fewer dead rubbers (if any) and, though penalty shootouts are hardly satisfactory as a decider, if the final can go to penalties, why can’t group games. Shares in local bus companies may rise as national coaches look to park them, then hope their goalkeepers can give it the wobbly legs and sneak their teams through, but recent World Cups have hardly been short of unambitious teams and dull defensive matches.

The pundits’ version of “who will think of the children?” is “what about the quality?”, a phrase I have heard repeated over the last few days, often from people who would be hard pressed to name five countries ranked between 32 and 48 (the imperfect, but best, indicator of current “quality”) never mind the players comprising such squads.

So who are these minnows tipping their hats to the regulars, who must agree to share their ball? The current rankings suggest that the extra teams would include the likes of Senegal, Ivory Coast, Tunisia, Egypt, South Korea, Algeria, Romania, Paraguay, Sweden, Greece, Czech Republic, Serbia, Japan, Denmark, Australia and DR Congo. There are not many winners among that collection but there are plenty of contributors, all of whom are worthy of being described as “dangerous” in any draw, certainly as far as England are concerned.

Of course, the qualifiers are structured by region rather than ranking, with the extra spaces being handed out to the six confederations: Europe will have 16 representatives rather than 13; Africa will have nine rather than five; Asia jump up to 8.5 from 4.5; South America are up to six from 4.5; Concacaf will have 6.5 rather than 3.5; Oceania are guaranteed one place rather than 0.5; and the host national will take the final spot as usual.

Who wants to deny Africa and Asia their extra places given the tremendous progress their players have made over the last generation? South America only get six qualifiers, but that’s from the 10 nations in that confederation. Thus the Jackson Pollock tournament begins to look more like a Piet Mondrian, the blur resolving into something quite neat.

In as much as World Cups can be summarised, my experience of the finals since 1970 is one of a flattening of differences in talent, tactics and skills: the lesser teams have become more competitive and the top teams have become less dominant. A true “World” Cup should reflect the world, with as many hats thrown into the ring as possible. Fifa’s clever plan balances that objective with a manageable schedule (easily accommodated in a limited number of stadiums given 21st-century pitch preparation and recovery) to the benefit of all.

So, England to play Mexico and Senegal in their group matches in 2026? What times are the kick-offs?

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