I studied French and German as a kid, neither of them particularly well. My secondary school offered us the opportunity to learn Spanish but (without wanting to imply that 1990s middle-belt Scotland was slightly stuck in its ways) we were all a little bit scared of it. I distinctly remember people muttering the words “nobody speaks Spanish”. And so the suggestion was canned.Lots of people do, in fact, speak Spanish, and many have been the times when I wished I weren’t so stupid (about Spanish, I mean, not generally — that’s another column altogether). Spain’s influence on the game of football is vast and as an English-speaking writer in that field, knowing the lingo would have helped me enormously. It would also have allowed me to get to grips fully with one of the best discoveries of my trip to the 2026 World Cup: Telemundo’s television match commentary.None of what follows is a dunk on Fox Sports. I have no skin in that game, no dog in that fight. What happened was that on day two of the tournament, Fox’s feed at our apartment started flickering, freezing and dropping out. In the ensuing panic, we found our way to Telemundo, the Spanish-speaking broadcaster watched by millions in the United States. I’ve been hooked on it ever since, flying blind without the faintest idea of what is going on in the commentary booth. I can’t recommend the mystery enough.Conversely, in this scenario, not speaking Spanish is a bonus because it turns Telemundo into a theme-park ride where you’re in the dark and unable to see where the tracks are going next. The enthusiasm of the commentators is unrivalled and scary, bordering on cardiac arrest. I could take them to Peterhead versus Arbroath, north coast of Scotland, middle of December, midweek night with a crowd of 345, and they’d turn it into Lionel Messi’s finest hour. We’re about 40 matches into the World Cup, and I haven’t heard them phone it in once. Every day is a fresh start.