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Throw in the tyranny of distance and a pandemic which allowed the Socceroos only four home qualifiers out of a total 20, and we are just warming up.
Then the cliff's edge play-off route, a bear pit of survival instincts and game management where Australia found a way, found their way to the 32-nation World Cup.
That was going to be it, surely, glory in making it this far. Not even close.
Engineered by Graham Arnold and his incredible staff, the Socceroos created their own reality, a reality where sheer Australian will and self-belief triumphed over silk and pedigree. A reality where the sum of their collective was greater than the individual parts of the players they faced.
Never was this tested more than after matchday one. France flexed their football muscle to remind the world of their pure talent. An opponent of any disunity and doubt would have buckled. The Socceroos went the other way, hungrily consuming the loss to fuel their own world cup dream.
When I reflect on what followed, it becomes overwhelming. The energy, belief and application against Tunisia, Mitch Duke's headed goal adjusting from a deflected cross from Craig Goodwin, Harry Souttar inspired by the spirit of his brother Aaron; his last-man tackle on Taha Khenissi seemed to come from a different place. From captain Mathew Ryan to Aziz Behich, Aaron Mooy and Jackson Irvine, the Socceroos rediscovered their identity.
Denmark was supposed to be a bridge too far, a top 10 nation with players sprinkled across some of the best clubs in Europe. Forced onto their defensive heels in the first half, Australia took the Muhammad Ali approach to George Foreman (Rumble in the Jungle, Zaire 1974) and absorbed the blows until they stopped coming.
In the second half, Mathew Leckie threw the most wonderful counter-punch. After a lung-busting, 60-metre run, he found the composure, class and finish. That’s what an iron will forged by 10 years in German football will do to you.
Denmark kept swinging but the Socceroos refused to yield. Milos Degenek, who started at right-back, was superb, as were Souttar, Kye Rowles, Behich and Ryan. The work rate of Duke and the energy of Keanu Bacchus coming off the bench.
They had done it, a Round of 16 at a FIFA World Cup finals. The golden generation finally had some company.
It was back to the scene of their great drama, the Ahmad Bin Ali stadium - remember that penalty shootout against Peru? This time it was another South American team in waiting, one that according to their fans had a divine right to go through, much like Uruguay in 2005.
Argentina’s supposed divinity came from one man, godlike in his play and presence, Lionel Messi. When Australia dropped their guard late in the first half, Lionel did what Lionel does.
For the leadership and quality he’s produced, Ryan did not deserve being punished for his moment of uncertainty in the second half. But we know that’s not how football works, there’s no credit and debit ledger, just the here and now where Julian Alvarez was on high alert.
Game over, for sure. Not on your life.
It was as if the Socceroos channelled all the home hysteria they had generated, the overflow of national pride and identity into one more push. Ryan’s sharp saves allowed Craig Goodwin's deflected shot to mean so much. It’s been a remarkable tournament for the left-footed winger.
What followed was Argentina looking at their own football mortality, and when the injury-time chance broke to Garang Kuol, it felt like time stood still. Australia’s youngest ever World Cup player was in touching distance, but footballs fairy tale wasn’t to be, not at that moment anyway.
The Socceroos have taken us on an amazing journey. To their coaching staff, led by Arnold, and every player who featured in qualifying, and the World Cup finals squad, you deserve our highest admiration.
This performance, this World Cup opens a window of hope, desire and possibilities for football in Australia.
To those who have loved the game for many years and ones captivated by the Socceroos' journey in 2022, may this be an inflection point for football to realise its rightful place in Australia.
I can hear Johnny Warren’s distinctive tone with Les all those years ago, agitated in discussing his unfulfilled desire for the game he loved.
“I’m sick of us saying, when are we going to qualify for the World Cup? When are we going to win the World Cup," Warren said.
Today, Johnny’s words seem in reach. Yes, he may have been referring to the men’s game, but that was another time.
In 2023, the World Cup baton will be passed onto the Matildas on home soil.
There’s solidarity in the jersey, inspiration in the badge and if football has proved one thing, it’s that anything is possible.
