Introducing our World Cup fantasy football team.

Who doesn’t love the World Cup? All those top-class players in close proximity for a whole month, eating together, watching films together, younger players getting into arguments over ping-pong, older heads sneaking cigarettes after team meetings. It’s where kids become seasoned pros, and seasoned pros become legends. So, to celebrate this year’s tournament, which kicks off tomorrow, we, the editors of Mundial magazine, have picked 11 of the most iconic players in World Cup history and imagined what sartorial choices they’d be making if they were still knocking it about today.

The greatest goalkeeper of all-time, nicknamed the Black Spider because he favoured Mr Johnny Cash’s colour scheme and rocked a flat cap way before your mate thought he was one of the Peaky Blinders. Soviet goalie Mr Lev Yashin is wearing black leather from head to toe. He’s got a sponsorship deal with Balenciaga and he is going to make the most of it.

Mr Paolo Maldini played more than 1,000 games for AC Milan and Italy, and rarely broke sweat. Beautiful man, beautiful player, probably a really good mate. But you’re not going to want to be next to him on that yacht. Oh, no, no. Baby-blue shirt open at the chest, ice-white linen shorts, something horrendous on his feet that only he can get away with. Looks like a prince.

West Ham and England captain Mr Bobby Moore is not bothered how warm it is. He is aghast that you have the gall to wear shorts to the office. He mutters something under his breath. Mr Bobby Moore wears a suit at all times and, yes, he might have a bit of linen woven into the mix for the summer, but he will not tell you about it. Pair of Tom Ford D-frames in the top pocket, obviously.

He won the lot, did Der Kaiser. He won the actual lot. European Cups, World Cups, league titles. The lot. West German defender Mr Franz Beckenbauer’s at the barbecue at your new girlfriend’s friend’s house. You’ve arrived late. The sausages are gone. The salad you’ve brought is warm. He’s dishing out the cocktails clad head to toe in Valentino. He’s winning this, too.

“Michael, you cannot go out like that.” Thing is, he can. He’s Danish great Mr Michael Laudrup. Liquid technique. Lovely hair. Decked out in a mad Paul Smith graphic shirt, washed-out cotton shorts and Air Max 98s. He’s Mr Michael Laudrup. He’s playing one-twos with bits of litter and feinting his way past dogs. It’s 6.00am, and Mr Michael Laudrup can go out in whatever he likes.

Glass of wine. Probably from his own vineyard. Just off the pitch, but Italian midfielder Mr Andrea Pirlo hasn’t wasted a bead. Flicking through the newspaper like he’s sat outside a café in Lombardy. Mix-and-match suiting. Wearing something Boglioli and double-breasted, a natural roll to his brilliant white shirt underneath, Belgian loafer dangling from his crossed leg. Great at football, but greater at everything else. Just great at being. Just so bloody good at existing.

For someone who did plenty of very exciting things on the pitch, France’s Zizou often looked excruciatingly bored, like the whole concept of people even bothering to try and tackle him was a great source of frustration. Off the field, he moves about in all-cashmere everything, like a cat burglar, stopping only to frown witheringly at someone, anyone who looks less than 100 per cent smoking a cigarette.

Midfielder Mr Johan Cruyff did not care for rules, famously ripping one of adidas’s three stripes off his Dutch shirt at the 1974 World Cup. And if Mr Cruyff were cutting around this summer’s festival circuit, he would almost certainly be doing it in a Stetson and a wavy-Aztec-patterned shirt. “Cruyff man”, he’d call himself, as he disappeared into the mud.

Italian striker Mr Bobby Baggio and his ponytail, his snaggletooth grin and tiny little eyes, his knees covered with scars, weaving in and out of defenders all game, slotting in two. Back to the changing rooms, shower and a shave, smelling to high heaven of expensive cologne, ducking out the back door in an expensive two-piece tracksuit and wash bag made of the finest leather. He’ll be eating mung beans for two tonight.

On the way to lifting the World Cup trophy with Brazil in 1994, Romário made boys and girls all around the world believe booting the ball with the end of his toes was an OK thing to do. He made the toe poke cool. And so there he is, crisp white polo with one button undone, slightly baggy khaki pants and a glorious pair of sandals. Toes – proud, aired and broken all over – visible to all.

He’s certainly lived the life, Mr Diego Maradona. What with the punching the ball into the net and nearly dying from substance abuse. White slides, round sunglasses, offensively tiny tennis shorts, an open floral shirt and a belt bag that is 100 per cent substance over style are what the Argentinian striker is wearing, as he runs after you on the beach and rugby tackles you into the sand.

Issue 14 of MUNDIAL is available to buy now. The team will be screening every World Cup game at Hotel MUNDIAL, its month-long pop-up just off Brick Lane, London

The men featured in this story are not associated with and do not endorse MR PORTER or the products shown

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