I’ve sat on this one for a bit, mainly because I knew exactly where it would go. Some topics you can dance around. This probably isn’t one of them.

Watching Argentina at World Cup 26, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d seen it all before. Not just the football—the whole package. The decisions going their way, the moments where you’re sat there thinking, “How has VAR not had a look at that?” The little digs, the rolling around, the pushing, the needle. And then, right on cue, it all spilling over at the final whistle.

It wasn’t surprising. It was familiar.

And then came the bit that summed it all up for me—Spain lifting the trophy, and a number of Argentine players turning their backs. No applause, no acknowledgement, just a quiet, deliberate show of disrespect. You can dress it up however you like, call it emotion, call it passion… but it is what it is.

A lack of respect.

Now, before anyone starts, let’s get one thing straight—I’m not saying they’re not a good side. They are, Technically gifted, streetwise, competitive to the point of obsession. They know how to win. But there’s always that edge with them, isn’t there? That line they don’t just walk—they stride right on passed, stare you in the eye, and dare you to do something about it.

And more often than not, no one does.

Players like Enzo Fernández, Lisandro Martínez, Leandro Paredes and Cristian Romero—top players, no doubt about it—but they carry that same mentality. That same fire. And when some of them were pictured holding up the “Las Malvinas Son Argentinas” flag, it didn’t go unnoticed.

Now, I’m going to be clear on this.

They’re the Falkland Islands. They are British, and darling, there remain that way. That’s not up for debate—it’s the will of the islanders, and it’s most certainly the duty of the British government to protect that. Simple as that.

For some, that might just be history. Something in a textbook. But for others—people like me—it’s not that distant. I was ten years old, sat watching the taskforce come home on the TV with my ma. Ships looking rusty and tired, men looking even more so. It sticks with you, whether you want it to or not.

So when you see things like that flag being held up on a world stage, you’re not going to shrug it off. Not if you remember. I just sat there thinking…..Dicks..

Now, will those players care about that reaction? Not a chance.

Because if there’s one thing Argentina has never been short of, it’s identity. They are unapologetically Argentine. Fiercely proud. And that pride? It overrides everything. How they’re perceived, what people think of them, whether they’re liked or not—it doesn’t even come into the equation.

And let’s be honest, they’re not particularly loved.

Even across Latin America, they don’t exactly get a warm reception. There’s a long-standing friction there. A sense that Argentina sees itself differently—more European, more refined, a step removed from its neighbours. There’s history tied up in that, links back to Europe, to Germany—though that’s a whole other can of worms for another day.

The point is, they know how they’re seen.

They just don’t care.

And in a strange way—this is the part that will probably annoy a few people—I’ve got a tiny bit of respect for that. Not the behaviour on the pitch, not the lack of respect, not the theatrics… but the refusal to bend. The refusal to be anything other than what they are.

Because that takes something.

It’s not always pretty. In fact, most of the time it isn’t. But it’s real.

Throughout history, Argentina has been a proud nation, and that pride has always found its way into sport. Football, especially. It’s never just been a game to them—it’s identity, it’s expression, it’s a reflection of who they are.

And who they are hasn’t really changed.

Will they ever change?

Probably not.

Because why would they? From their point of view, it works. It wins matches. It gets under people’s skin. It creates that siege mentality—the world’s against them—and they thrive on it.

And the reaction they’re going to get when the Premier League season starts back up? They’ll expect it. Players like Martínez and Romero especially—they’ll walk into grounds knowing full well what’s coming their way.

Boos, chants, hostility.

They won’t shy away from it. If anything, they’ll feed off it. Bastards.

That’s the difference.

Now, I’ll be straight about it—as an older ex-soldier, I’ve got no love for them. I don’t like them. I don’t like the way they conduct themselves, I don’t like the lack of respect, and I don’t like the constant pushing of boundaries.

But I understand it.

And maybe that’s the uncomfortable bit.

Because while the rest of us sit there getting wound up, shaking our heads, talking about how it “should” be done—they’re out there doing it their way. No apologies. No second thoughts. No interest in whether it fits anyone else’s idea of how football should look.

They are what they are.

And they’ve always been that way.

You can criticise it. You can call it out—and rightly so in a lot of cases. But don’t expect it to change any time soon. That identity runs too deep. It’s ingrained.

So no, Argentina hasn’t just suddenly become this team. They’ve just reminded everyone who they’ve always been.

Then again it might just be me.