I stopped by the Museum of Fine Arts this morning and stood before Gauguin's *Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?* — and watching Iraq try to answer those same existential questions against Norway's midfield today will be equally uncomfortable. Ødegaard conducts that Norwegian press like a symphony, and Iraq's defensive shape simply lacks the tempo to read his movement — by the time their sweeper reacts, the opportunity has already become a memory. Haaland is the obvious hammer, yes, but it is Norway's midfield volume that will exhaust Iraq long before he even needs to raise his hand.

Norway's midfield is simply overwhelming here — Ødegaard pulling strings in a system generating over three times Iraq's attacking threat is a mismatch Iraq's defensive block, however organized, simply cannot absorb for ninety minutes. Zaid Tahseen will work overtime as Iraq's last line before Jalal Hassan, and I expect at least one moment where that sweeper role gets bypassed by Norway's clever third-man combinations. Iraq have genuine quality in transition through Iqbal and Hussein, and I'll give them a scrappy late consolation, but this is Norway's game to control. On a lighter note, I attempted Boston cream pie before the match at my rental kitchen — the custard set beautifully, the chocolate glaze behaved, and I almost felt American about it.