Mystic — It was 9 o'clock on a Saturday (morning) and the irregular crowd shuffled in. As one patron so deftly observed, "English people at an Irish bar to watch the World Cup. Go figure."

On Fourth of July weekend in the good ol' U.S. of A, no less, where we celebrate our independence from ... England.

Hmmm. Maybe Gen. Cornwalis is getting the last laugh after all.

Yes, this was the scene in Mystic at Harp & Hound, the unofficial home of World Cup Watching here in our corner of the world. It was an early kickoff, 10 a.m., but it was 5 o'clock somewhere. Or at least good enough to partake in some kegs and eggs at 4 Pearl St.

The Harp is a hoot. The sign out front proclaims it not a gin mill, but rather "drinking consultants." No better such consultant than owner Leo Roche, as Irish as they get, who nonetheless opened his doors to the Brits on Saturday.

This just in: The English and Irish rarely text each other Beef Wellington recipes. Still, Roche has cultivated many English friends, including Roy Collins, one of the region's great ambassadors for futbol. Roy was part of the gang here Saturday, greeting the lads and lasses at the door, many of whom appeared to be named "Ian."

An inquiring mind asked Roche who he was rooting for.

Roche smirked.

"I'm a businessman," he said. "Last game, there weren't many Colombians here (England played Colombia earlier last week) but the cash registers were ringing."

English ... Irish ... but there's something to be said for good old American capitalism too, apparently.

Not all the Irishmen were as magnanimous. Alan Sheehan, one of Roche's bartenders and business associates, said he was going to wear so much yellow Saturday (Sweden's primary color) that he'd look like Big Bird.

Anyhoo, Collins began singing "God Save The Queen" before the match began. A few of the Irishmen drew the line there.

"It gives me a rash," one of them said.

A television graphic showed Sweden's starting lineup, this cacophony of consonants, making you feel for the play-by-play announcer, who may have felt as though he were reading inventory at IKEA.

The match began. There were the requisite ooohs and ahhhs until England scored off a corner kick. It appeared the Brits used leading scorer Harry Kane as a decoy. Harry Maguire rose above the masses and headed one home, to the delight of the Harp. Collins spilled part of the water bottle he was drinking in celebration.

I asked an Englishman next to me — I believe his name was Ian — whether I saw that right: Kane as a decoy?

"Back home, they call that the 'Love Train,'" Ian said.

Here, of course, "Love Train" is the 1972 hit from the O'Jays. Across the pond, apparently, "Love Train" is the formation the Brits use to disguise for whom the pass is intended.

The "Love Train" worked swimmingly.

Dele Alli scored in the 58th minute, icing the game and sending the English to the semis for the first time in 18 years.

It was fun beginning to the weekend. Nice to see a bunch of people gathering to watch their mother country. It also made me wonder whether anything like this is possible in the U.S. anymore.

Seriously: We've become a bunch of blatherers, bloviators and blusterers, yelling at each other from high atop our soapboxes, rarely allowing for such moments of unity. A sporting event united a bunch of Brits an ocean away for a little while Saturday. They weren't fans of Liverpool or Man U for the time being. They were fans of England.

I mean, when's the last time that happened here? That we were truly united? Maybe in 1980 at Lake Placid when we beat the Russians?

Ah, the good ol' days.

And so while we bellyache our way through time, we'll have to settle for watching others celebrate their cultures. Congrats to all the Ians. They'll be back at the Harp on Wednesday for the semifinals. Get there early for the best seat.

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro