As half the nation tuned in to watch the opening World Cup match, with the braveheart Scots taking on the mighty Brazilians, I was ... sad to say ... working.

Don't get me wrong, I don't resent working the late shift at the Evening Press while the rest of the world enjoys football. I'd always prefer to be sitting behind this keyboard while the goals hit the back of the net and World Cup fever takes over in the city outside the office.

It's just I can't helping thinking of the way it was last time.

Football can cause euphoria that leaves you buzzing for days. It can create a national pride not seen since Euro '96. More often than not it can cause heart-rending despair.

For me the World Cup so far has caused nothing but a tendency to wallow knee-deep in nostalgia.

Four years ago the world's greatest sporting event (in my book anyway) meant many things.

It meant the end of university study. It heralded a summer of sunshine and leisure time to enjoy it in.

It promised four weeks of the best football seen in a long time, and I pulled an armchair up in front of the TV, took a pew and didn't move.

I must have seen every match. I shared the highs, I shared the lows, I marvelled at every sparkling display of talent and when it finished I felt the pangs as my body withdrew from its diet of hour upon hour of the beautiful game.

I suppose everybody's got their own favourite World Cup, but 1994 would take a lot of beating.

This year I've already had two matches pass me by without being able to watch even one minute of them.

But I need to snap out of living in the past. Today things will look brighter. I'll be tuning into Cameroon v Austria, and when Hoddle's boys get their hands on that trophy in four weeks' time, I might even consider this World Cup as the best yet.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.