There is a face of this World Cup. Burnt into my conscience. 

It’s the face of Hannah Wilkinson as she drank in the atmosphere before kick off against Norway.  

Standing with her teammates, waiting to walk on to her field of dreams.  

The stone-cold determination. The laser focus. The will. Watching her face sent chills through me. 

On the pitch, during the anthem, flanked by the women charged with lighting the touch paper for arguably the biggest sporting event in NZ’s history, every fibre of her being, every twitch and expression screamed intent.  

Hannah Wilkinson then sent the country into another stratosphere with her clinical finish of a textbook sweep down the field. A magical movement, personifying footballs oft used sobriquet, the beautiful game.  

Her determination, razor mindset and indefatigable will to win was laid out for all to see post-match in her interviews. 

Not arrogant, not that of baseless swagger, but the words of an athlete, determined and driven to stand up on the world sage and roar. 

If that goal, that team performance and that spirit doesn’t lift NZ, doesn’t trebuchet this sporting nation into the heart of this World Cup, nothing will. 

That’ll do.