The third game at the Maracana was even more eye-opening than the first two.

The most noticeable thing about Sunday's fixture was that there were yet more evangelist Christians on the outskirts of the stadium. Some were subtle, some were caked in white paint as part of a ceremony but most were celebrating Christ through baile funk - the infectious sound of the favelas. Aside from the non-stop, pro-Jesus youth dance party there were elderly people flyering for God on every corner, and some were hell bent on making it known they spoke Russian.

Where that seemed like an ordeal, the military police were quick to reassure fans that any difficulties would be their doing. They had shifted the route to the Maracana from that sign-posted and used for the previous two games to a new one of their choosing. It involved walking past an extra crossroads of congregating Christians and a stagnant canal. Neither were conducive to putting fans in the mood for a feast of soccer.

Nor were the five ticket checks before the ground and the fun addition of a bag check. Looking back once through, it was the same effect as refugees fleeing a war-torn country, seeing flustered match-going fans sneak through the line of heavily armored, gun wielding peacekeepers.

The magnetic scanner and bag check was as humorously inconsistent as before. I had a lighter taken off me but met several fans in the ground who had lighters and no one batted an eyelid.

The concourse and the concessions were much more disorganized than previous games. Someone had obviously had the brainwave that ignoring the lines that were specifically laid down for the World Cup would increase customer satisfaction.

They were wrong. The only upside being that the priority lane for old people, pregnant women and children - a cornerstone of Brazilian society - were made clearer. Other than that, everyone was eagle-eyed for the movement of the next beer dispenser and subsequently pounced upon them like apex predators at a savannah watering hole at their first twitch.

The stewards also seemed to have taken a step backwards from the stadium's first two games. So many fans were in the wrong seats. The actual ticket holders received little support from the staff but the situation was righted by the fans around them. Those stewards were too busy bothering middle-aged gentlemen in order to remove water bottles from them. Whether this was because it was a security risk in a country where urine from the stands is a common intruder on the pitch or because it was not sponsor-branded is a mystery for the ages.

It was an interesting mix of fans in the stands. In many ways it appeared like there were less soccer fans and more tourists. The amount of costumes was at Halloween levels and it seemed to be a USA home game based on the stars, stripes and Captain America-clad clots commandeering the crowd. 

Sunday was also obviously the first day that local Rio clubs got tickets based on what was happening in the stands. The most impressive Mexican Wave since the 1986 World Cup was bordering on forgivable but the Brazilian sections of the crowd booing every lull in play quickly became boring, and that was the lighter side of the tone.

The local hardcore, including Fluminense and Flamengo supporters, clearly had ulterior motives­ than watching Belgium take on Russia. One Brazilian­ fan and his wife fled in tears after being subjected to abuse from fans of both Rio clubs. It wasn't immediately clear why but the stewards opted out of dealing with the matter, much to the amusement of Flamengo's finest.

If this is a taster of what might come then we should all pray it's not an Argentina versus Brazil final.