Every football fan has its very 'own' World Cup.
It's your entry point to international football, the first feast of summer soccer you can remember and it stays with you forever, to the point it's a hill you'd die on to defend its honour among the rest of the different tournaments.
It's completely subjective to each fan, often defined by the era you grew up in, but for me, the hill I stand high and proud on is saying that USA '94 was the best World Cup of them all.
Italia '90 was my first, drawn in by England's run to the semi-finals, the greatest football song of all time in World In Motion, and Gazza's tears in the semi-final. But as much as I love Ciao, Schillaci and Frank Rijkaard's flobber, I was still a tad too young to appreciate the full-scale nature of a World Cup finals.
By 1994, though, I was all in. Football had me, and now I was ready to soak in my first real World Cup. Panini sticker album (or Upper Deck trading cards) and McDonald's official t-shirt in tow, I immersed myself in everything the tournament had to offer.
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The first question I always get asked as an England fan when I dare suggest that 1994 was my favourite is the notion that how can it be the best when the Three Lions played no part in it...nor Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland either.
Graham Taylor's side may have sported the most underrated kit of the era, but they royally messed up qualifying with 'I do not like that' and all that jazz, but somehow that just added to my excitement, not hindered it.
With no actual dog in the fight, I was free to watch and appreciate the global game from all angles without the fear and crushing disappointment that every England before and since has been through.
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And to top it all off, the 1994 World Cup was in America. Yes, America.
Back then, they had no official league, they barely had a national team, but they had the World Cup, and as someone growing up who was fascinated with all things Americana (thank you, WWE), I knew it was going to have every bit the pageantry and OTT-ness of a WrestleMania or Super Bowl. And I wasn't disappointed.
From the opening ceremony where Diana Ross hit one of the worst penalties you'll ever see - Google it, it's worth it - to the ginger mullet and beard of part-time rock star Alexi Lalas, the US made this World Cup feel different and scream good old U S of A.
Then there was the USA kit, so good it needs its own section...
USA 94 was a very good tournament for kits. The adidas team template, which saw huge company branding on the bottom sides of the shirts sung in the US sunshine for Sweden, Bulgaria and Romania.
The Brazil set was one of class and style, with their polo collar and embossed badges, but the creme de la creme came with the hosts.
The home shirt gave a nod to the red and white stripes on the American flag, with a 90s frazzled twist and it was a nice enough shirt in its own right, but the away, wow, the away.
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An essay could be written on the USA 1994 away shirt, and I'm trying not to get carried away. But taking the nod to old glory a step further, the USMNT were decked out in faux-denim shirts, combined with huge stars from the American flag.
Denim? On a football kit? Nope, it had never been done and hasn't really been done since, because how can you reimagine perfection?
No shirt sums up its inhabitants or an era like the USA 1994 away shirt. An all-timer, an iconic representation of a tournament perfectly embroidered into the thickest cotton you'll ever feel.
And it inspired a team that had no right to go as far as they did.
For all the razzmatazz off the pitch, however, a World Cup has to create drama on it for it to be spoken about as a truly great tournament, and USA 94 wasn't short of any of that.
For one, just take a second and look at the pure star power of the finals. Romario, Baggio, Stoichkov, Hagi, Bergkamp, Maradona, Brolin, Klinsmann, Ockocha, just to name a few. It reads like a Ballon d'Or nomination list rather than a collection of players at one tournament - who all, for the record, performed during the long hot summer.
There were underdog stories for Sweden and Bulgaria, who finished third and fourth, with Yordan Letchkov seeing off favourites Germany along the way.
A Golden Boot was won by an unknown never to be heard of again on a world stage in Oleg Solenko, while Saudi Arabia had their moment thanks to the jinking feet of Saeed Ali Al-Owairan.
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Then there's the hosts themselves. Led by Lalas and featuring notable early Premier League names such as John Harkes and Roy Wegerle, the US reached the knockout stages and were only just bested by the eventual winners on Independence Day.
You want scandal? How about Diego Maradona being sent home for failing a drug test days after his eyes nearly bulged out of his head after he celebrated his goal against Greece? He would never be seen on the international stage again.
There's the tragic story of Andres Escobar, whose own goal in the tournament ridiculously cost him his life when he returned to Colombia after the tournament.
And finally, the boys in Green. Ireland kept up the 'home' interest by qualifying for the World Cup and had their own moment in the heat. No, not John Aldridge arguing with officials in the melting LA sun, but Ray Houghton notching a famous winner against Italy in New York. Roly-poly and all.
But there was always only one winner.
I've never been a glory-hunting football fan - my ties to QPR will tell you that - but in 1994 Brazil were my team. I even had the shirt.
I mean, so were the USA, and I would have had THAT shirt if a friend of my Grandad's had actually made good on his promise during a trip to the States, but I never got my hands on it until years later.
But Brazil were everyone's team because they were so clearly the best side in the competition.
No, it wasn't a yellow and blue swagger from the 1970s and 80s, nor did it have the depth of attacking talent as 2002, but they knew how to win.
Led by Dunga as the anchor, this more pragmatic Brazil team also had its Samba sprinkling up top in Romario and Bebeto. Who baby-rocked their team to the final.
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And yes, the final was a drab affair. It lets USA 94 down immensely, despite having the two best sides come face-to-face.
But it did save one final piece of drama for its climax. Roberto Baggio, Italy's talisman and arguably the best player in the world, in the end was the fall guy as his penalty miss handed the trophy to the South Americans.
His defeated pose, set next to the kneeling triumph of Claudio Taffarel, is one of the images that lives on from this World Cup forever.
But there are many more. Not least the sight of America truly embracing football like never before and the world allowing them to turn the volume up the only way they can.
Don't sleep on it, don't dismiss it, go back and relive it, because it's a moment in 90s time we'll never get back, we'll never better, and we'll never forget.
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