Mike Rowbottom: America's highlights nothing compared to Mexican memories

It was nice that President Bush was able to telephone the United States football team before their unlikely victory over Mexico in the World Cup second round. At least they knew that someone back home was looking out for them.

Such has been the immense domestic indifference to the unlikely Far East progress of Cobi Jones and Co that anyone seeking to follow them Stateside could be forgiven for wondering if the team was actually taking part in what some benighted souls like to think of as a major sporting event. The US achievement in qualifying from their opening World Cup group did not even rate a mention in that day's television news programmes.

For those wishing to follow the action on television the main US networks have offered only cold collations of highlights, sometimes served up several days after the games.

I heard this week of one tortured Brit who had managed to track the tournament by tuning into Mexican TV, which apparently employs crude but effective graphics during England games. Whenever David Beckham gets the ball, the screen fills with a flashing, Batman-style monicker: 'Spice Man!'

The Mexicans, it seems, have been engulfed by the global wave of pop/football culture. We are OK now. But at least this offers evidence that the Mexicans are warming to our national team. When the World Cup was held in their country 32 years ago, England, then defending champions... England, defending champions... England, defending champions... Sorry. I just love the sound of that phrase.

Anyway, England, then defending champions, were given a frosty reception by the crowds who watched their opening group matches in Guadalajara.

In a scrapbook kept from that time I have a report by the Daily Telegraph's Donald Saunders in which he reflects upon England's 1-0 victory over Romania in their first game. "They eventually earned the appreciation, though still not the support, of a crowd that had come hoping to see them defeated," he wrote.

The next match, when England lost 1-0 in an epic struggle with the eventual winners Brazil, was an equally partisan affair. Saunders writes of the confident chanting of "Brazil, Brazil" which filled the arena, and the "derisive whistling" that greeted England upon their emergence. Thanks to someone at the BBC who had the simple, glorious idea of re-running the entire game, I was able to confirm the one-sidedness of that atmosphere on Wednesday evening.

Over the years our memories of important events reduce to key images. For England-Brazil 1970, there is a mental flipchart which includes Gordon Banks' improbable save from Pele's header, Jairzinho's unstoppable goal, Jeff Astle's missed open goal, and, inevitably, Bobby Moore dabbing out his foot to claim the ball from Jairzinho's feet and smiling broadly and swapping shirts with Pele.

But Wednesday's offering was a reminder of all the things we lose to the past, including the sharp and urgent tones of David Coleman at the peak of his commentating form.

In his first World Cup as the BBC's No 1 man, Coleman called the game exactly right, emphasising the crucial nature of the first goal, pointing out England's wobbly period shortly before they conceded it, and, afterwards, censuring them for failing to take the chances they created to equalise. Following Astle's startled mistake in prodding wide from six yards, Coleman rasped: "You can't win matches if you miss open goals." None of this "so unlucky" nonsense.

Being able to watch the whole 90 minutes really did seem like being allowed to nip back in time. The watchful precision of Moore's famous, much-replayed tackle was replicated by an equally adroit effort later in the game when he took the ball off the toe off Tostão in full flight.

But we were also reminded of the less God-like in both Moore and Pele. Here was the Brazilian getting in measured retaliation upon his marker, Alan Mullery, having been brought down by him in the opening minutes. And here was Moore, dog-tired, squatting on his haunches in the 90 degrees midday heat as his free-kick was delayed while England's substitutes Astle and Colin Bell came on. Here too was the England captain tugging Jairzinho back by his shirt, and missing a tackle on Tostão in the build-up which led to the only goal.

We simplify in retrospect. Moore was superb, but not infallible on that day. And yet the most surprising reminder for me came with four minutes left in what Coleman described as "the cauldron" of the Jalisco Stadium.

Running down the left wing, drawing the full-back into a tackle, winning a corner and taking it – was Bobby Moore. Not infallible. Just incredible.