Spain and Argentina - the World Cup at its most sublime and shocking.

Spain and Argentina - the World Cup at its most sublime and shocking.

A couple of nights ago the World Cup in Russia presented us with football at its most sublime while last night the World Cup left us feeling distinctly deflated. It is hard to know where this World Cup may be taking us. It could be some Garden of Eden paradise where the roses and begonias always bloom or it may struggle over the half way line before flopping horribly into some very thorny bush full of weeds and thick scrubland.

Yesterday evening Argentina fell desperately short of those sentimental years where everything seemed to go right, the football was beautifully designed and furnished with the finest material and the players came from the best traditions of the tango and the bossa nova. Argentina, it has to be said, were simply dreadful and after promising briefly in the first half, collapsed like a folding deckchair washed out to sea.

Argentina's opponents Croatia tucked into the South Americans ravenously, gorging themselves on the blue and white striped shirts as if attending some bountiful banquet. But perhaps the most desolate figure was once again Lionel Messi, certainly one of the greatest players in the world. Messi didn't quite know where to put his head after Argentina's limp and soulless 1-1 draw in their opening World Cup group match against Iceland.

 Even the likes of Javier Mascherano and Manchester City's viperish striker Sergio Aguero had nothing in their box of tricks to baffle a Croatia side driven forward by the inspirational Luka Modric, formerly of Tottenham and now ensconced comfortably as a Champions League winner with Real Madrid.

In the second half though Argentina looked like one of those long distance lorries whose engine may have blown at the wrong time and place. Manchester City's other Premier League victor Nicolas Otamendi seemed off the pace and leggy, perhaps emotionally exhausted by another gruelling if remarkable season for City. Then there was Marcos Acuna from whom perhaps too much was expected of. Acuna was quick and purposeful but, although oozing composure on the ball, never quite got out of first gear on the night. Enzo Perez was another bright spark for Argentina but by the time Perez clicked Argentina had already switched off completely.

So there we were dearly looking forward to seeing an Argentinian side who genuinely appeared hell bent on re- creating the ticker tape World Cup winning heroics of 1978. This time there were no players like Daniel Passarella, Rene Houseman. Osvaldo Ardiles, Ricky Villa, Mario Kempes and Leopoldo Luque to enthrall a fiercely nationalistic Argentina crowd whose World Cup Final victory against Holland may never be forgotten in Buenos Aires.

Earlier on in the week Spain and Iran fought out one of those very low scoring games that, to the outsider, might have been regarded as disappointing. But there was never any point during the game when Spain seemed remotely troubled by Iran. Here was a short passing masterclass from Spain that was not only a pleasure to watch but a salutary lesson in the arts and crafts of the Beautiful Game.

At times it was rather like watching Brazil 1970 when Pele, Jairzinho and Rivelino seemed to baffle their opposition with beautifully embroidered attacking tapestries. There did seem to be a blizzard of passes, a torrent of passes sweeping and flooding over an Iranian defence who didn't quite know which way to look or go.

 The circles were ever increasing as the educated feet of Isco, Andres Iniesta, Sergio Busquets, the evergreen Manchester City midfield string puller David Silva, the adventurous Sergio Ramos wove together their patterns and imposed those profound thought processes on the game.  This was the Spain that still gave tantalising glimpses of what could be as the tournament progresses and may yet develop into something much bigger and more important.

Finally, this afternoon Brazil finally delivered on the first part of their ever colourful project. A World Cup without Brazil of course is rather like fish without the chips, bread without butter and all of the ingredients that make them one of the most riveting sides in the history of international football. Brazil are like a permanent art exhibition, more Monet and Matisse than some scribbled drawing on a pavement.

For the first time Philippe Coutinho, the world class Neymar, Firminho of Liverpool, Gabriel Jesus of Manchester City, Miranda, Willian of Chelsea, Marcelo and the hugely entertaining Thiago Silva all gelled, blended, forged together effectively and often quite thoughtfully as indeed they should given our expectations of Brazil at any World Cup.

Once again Brazil looked like a renaissance team, utterly humiliated in their own backyard four years ago by a rampant German side who quite literally cut them in half, bombarded them, dismantling and dismembering Brazil with the kind of 7-1 semi final thrashing that must have left them extremely traumatised for months and years afterwards. But now it's different and four years of course is quite naturally a long time to dwell on the aches, sores and torments that went with the territory at the time.

Brazil beat Costa Rica 2-0 in a not entirely convincing last minute victory but this is still a Brazil side in evolution and transition rather than the finished article. When we think of Brazil we normally think of that romantic age when lovers meet at the top of the Eiffel Tower, a side of fantasy and freedom, of fizzing exuberance and glorious attacking extravagance. You can never tire of watching Brazil because Brazil are Brazil and play the kind of football we all wish we could play, a side of the quickest wits and the simplest of passes.

We are now entering the second week of this World Cup of 2018. So far the good citizens of Volgograd, St Petersburg, Sochi and all have dispelled all those deep seated notions and stereotypes of a Russia that refuses to smile. Russia, to all outward appearances, looks as if it's having a ball, enjoying itself hugely. So far the wonderful party is in full swing, the caviar is always available and Russian high society may well be pinching itself.

Of course there was that very dark episode in Salisbury where a perfectly innocent father and daughter were attacked with what could have been a potentially lethal poison. Then there was the messy aftermath followed by political hostility between Russia and Britain that thankfully blew over. But we're all friends now. Relationships have been repaired and Gareth Southgate's England are going where few dare to tread. This is time for shaking diplomatic hands and trying to put the worst behind us.

So here we are on the verge of week two and the World Cup is about to pause for breath. The usual suspects are flexing their muscles while others whose footballing traditions may stretch back much further in time are being severely examined and tested to the limit. Brazil could still provide us with their usual element of surprise and the unexpected while their South American neighbours Argentina still look edgy, nervous, temperamental and underwhelmed.

As for Spain and France the World Cup is very much part of an artistic movement where style and sophistication meet up once again for a neighbourly argument over the garden fence. Art was never a case of the classic baroque or rococo period and if either the Spanish or French believe this to be the case then they may be seriously deluded.

Oh well! Every England and their fans will now be turning their thoughts to Sunday and Panama neither of whom would ever ordinarily crop up in discussion over the Sunday roast or any dinner party for that matter. But it is England against Panama, a game that probably sounds like the greatest mismatch of all time. Still, there was Morocco in the 1986 World Cup, Algeria in the 2010 World Cup, the USA in the 1950 World Cup and of course there was Iceland in Euro 2016. So who are we to assume anything? The World Cup in Russia is slowly warming up and may yet come to the boil.  It is time to keep the faith in England and Gareth Southgate. Time for those three lions to roar again.