Breathlessness was promised after all. The famed heights of the Azteca – the iconic stadium that immortalised itself as the custodian to two World Cup finals – delivered on what could possibly be its last ever World Cup game. That England, packing their suitcases with decades worth of held grievances earned on this very grass, were allowed to escape the 80,000 plus crowd with a laboured victory, would have to be their version of the footballing gods balancing their weighing scales. That Mexico would come out of swinging, much like the sluggers thronging dilapated gyms in the city, was a given. All the armchair experts on altitude proclaimed that the English needed to sit back and survive the first quarter. The Mexicans would be fierce at the start and the crowd knew that they had a part to play. Jordan Pickford saw all of it unfolding before his eyes. The first real chance that Mexico had – a header from the country’s second-highest goalscorer. Raul Jimenez contorted himself in the air and struck a powerful …