Exhibitions are a bit like weddings: everyone sees the perfectly polished finished product. All the smiles, the confetti, the coming together, the laughter (until Uncle Barry gets hold of the microphone after six pints of Stella and decides it’s the perfect opportunity to tell the bride about that weekend in Benidorm). 

But what most don’t see are the months spent obsessing over every detail and preparing for what might go wrong. You can plan for almost everything. Contingency plans for your contingency plans.

From the extreme heat of 38 degrees and the greenhouse disguised as an exhibition hall and extravagant tower of cream-filled Le Choux cakes melting almost as quickly as the people eating them, to the carpet layers accidentally ripping off the LEDs from the edge of the stand, a faulty sink permanently tripping our carefully programmed lighting, the list goes on.

But something interesting happens when a team has spent months preparing for something that matters. People stop worrying about job titles. Someone notices a problem and fixes it. Someone sees a colleague struggling and steps in. Plans change. People adapt. Nobody holds a meeting to discuss whose responsibility it is to find more ice. You just get on with it.

A few days later, I found myself watching England play Mexico. Before a ball had even been kicked, the whole thing felt unhinged. One of football’s most intimidating stadiums, more than 2,000 metres above sea level and talk of altitude sickness. Thunderstorms rolling across Mexico City, torrential rain and kick-off delayed.

Goals. Penalties. Questionable refereeing. A sending off. Momentum swinging from one team to the other. Jude Bellingham scoring twice in 98 seconds. Mexico pulling one back before half-time. Jarell Quansah being sent off. England down to 10 men. Harry Kane stepping up to score from the penalty spot, restoring the two-goal lead, then conceding a penalty at the other end just 17 minutes later. Mexico back within one. Eleven minutes of added time. England hanging on. Every time you thought the game had settled down, something else happened. It was unpredictable, exhausting and dramatic.

Historically, England has had a complicated relationship with major tournaments. Every few years, we sing “It’s Coming Home”, the rest of the world laughs and, shortly afterwards, England comes home empty-handed. 

What impressed me wasn’t simply how England played. It was how they responded to the unpredictability of it all. The storm. The altitude. The decisions. The setbacks. Even the much-maligned hydration breaks started to look useful. A chance to regroup, reassess and decide whether to change the plan or trust the one you’re already on. 

Resilience isn’t about how teams perform when everything goes to plan. They’re defined by what happens when it doesn’t. Talent gets you into the team. Preparation gets you onto the pitch. But when the temperature rises, the storm arrives, the cakes melt and everything stops going according to plan, it’s the people beside you who make the difference. As a leader, that’s the team you hope you’re building.

However England performs in this World Cup, I’ll remember that night in Mexico as a reminder of what teams can do when the pressure is on and people come together. And if it doesn’t come home, I’m blaming the referee.

Jack Ramsey is Chief Operating Officer of TripStax.