For a whole generation, this is a first World Cup. What a place to spend it.

Born Slippy, the evocative Underworld song that resonates so deeply with the millennial and Gen Z crew who are living through this for the first time, bounced down the streets of Boston earlier in the week.

Hairs on the back of the neck were standing up, eyes watering away. Folk from these parts gawping and filming their visitors in awe.

They now know how super John McGinn is, that no Scotland means no party and that washing-up liquid is one of the most important items on a trip of this kind.

Known for their sporting success – the Boston Red Sox, the Boston Celtics, the Bruins, the New England Patriots – soccer is not one of them. Well, it wasn’t two weeks ago.

Now, there are billboards advertising the possibility of owning a professional Scottish club., external

Locals are asking where they can buy the pink shirt? It’s salmon, lads.

Bostonians have fallen for the Scots. And vice versa.

The break-up will be tough to take for both. Saltires won’t droop down hotels or poke out car windows, McGinn’s name won’t keep them up at night and cones will no longer land on any statues.

Boston Common will no longer be the central meeting place, nor will the Tartan Army pack out any more nights at Fenway Park. What do we do without baseball now?

Well, there appears to be a night down in Miami lined up with the Marlins. Know your audience and all that.

Two nations who adore their football teams, meeting in ‘Magic City’. Something enchanting might need to occur down there for Scotland to secure what they set out to do.