The 32 World Cup teams, ranked

The winners. Also the best team, which is convenient. Also one of the youngest squads, which is utterly terrifying.

Years from now, Belgian grandchildren will crowd around their seniors’ feet, and beg them to tell the story of Russia 2018. Just one more time. And their grandparents will smile, and nod, and say “Well, young Roberto, it was one hell of a summer. Nacer Chadli started against Brazil ...”

You have to love a team that can win all their group games, knock out England, and get as close as anybody did to France, yet also needed penalties to get past Denmark and Russia. Also they did half of that with a broken goalkeeper. Truly, they contained multitudes.

Belgium were great, but looking back ... there’s kind of a France vs. Brazil-shaped hole in the tournament, right?

It’s coming home! It’s coming home! It’s coming! Football’s coming to within a short ferry ride, budget airfare, or train journey from home!

That Cavani injury really messed everything up.

Great fun ... as long as you were willing to suspend your cynicism. Hey, that’s a bit like the World Cup as a whole! What an amazing coincidence.

A bit limp at the end, but the win over Germany was one of the defining games of the tournament. Extra points for remaining on brand by bouncing out in the last 16.

Nearly out-Belgiummed Belgium. And there’s not many as can say that.

A tale of two big heads: liberated by the absence of Zlatan Ibrahimovic; undone by the low-orbit asteroid of Harry Maguire.

It will forever be a stain on Portugal’s character that their game against Uruguay didn’t turn into The Battle of Nuremberg II: Stramash in Sochi. You’ve got Pepe on the pitch, lads. Use him.

At moments of panic, humans always revert to type. Some flee. Some fight. Spain pass the ball around loads to little effect, then slump out of a World Cup at a disappointingly early stage.

One wonderful performance out of four; three weird ones.

Hopp! Hopp!! Hopp? Flopp.

Okay, so they missed a chance in the last few minutes against Portugal. But they also attempted a somersault throw-in in the last few minutes against Spain, so that’s basically even.

Their celebrations against Germany were a lesson in how meaning, in the context of the World Cup, isn’t just located in progress through the tournament; but also in the performances. Even when they don’t meant anything, they mean everything. Also they finally gave Manuel Neuer what he’s been asking for, so probably deserve some kind of Nobel prize.

One of the best midfields in the competition, and they didn’t even make it out of the group. Not quite as shiny a lost game as France-Brazil, but Senegal vs. England would have been extremely interesting.

Lionel Messi and the Infinite Sadness.

Existed in a strange mezzanine level of appealing tidiness, but very little threat.

Showed enough in their last game to suggest that, had they not missed a penalty in the first, they might have been pretty exciting in the knockouts. Ah well. Best kits though.

Messi was always going to something at some point. And that means Ahmed Musa’s glorious goals against Iceland are already slipping out of memory.

Kind of felt like there was a really good football team hiding in there somewhere. Shame they couldn’t quite find it.

Schrödinger’s football team. Outside the box they definitely existed. Inside? You couldn’t really be sure.

Not a very good football team. But they insisted in playing as if they were a very good football team, which earned them two convincing defeats and one approach-justifying victory.

Slow handclap.

Never going to be the most disappointing side of the tournament, thanks to Germany, but still exceptionally underwhelming.

You made Nate Scott sad, you monsters.

Two games of intense defending: no points. One game of slightly unhinged attacking: one point. There’s a moral lesson in here somewhere.

One point. Two goals, both penalties. Player of the tournament: Mile Jedinak’s beard.

Right, so they got done by England. But come on, have you never wanted to be close to Harry Kane? To hold him in your arms, to keep him safe? Exactly.

That it’s something of a tradition for the title holders to fall to pieces, doesn’t make it any less weird. Or embarrassing. Or weird.

Let us never speak of this again.