Well, it’s all over again for potentially another 4 years, unless you count the meaningless almost cruel match for third place which at the time of writing this still had to be played.
The 2018 World Cup in Russia was almost upon us before we knew it, the usual hype, constant analysis, the lack of any realism had been largely non existent. Normally by the time England take part in their first game the level of hysteria is so high that anything other than a 10 nil victory is frowned upon and the vultures start to circle around the team and manager.
This time though it was different.
The Waistcoated Wonder, Gareth Southgate, had managed expectations so well even the most ardent member of the barmy army was laid back and expecting to see the lads 4 times possibly 5 if he blew his trumpet or banged his drum loud enough to put off the opposition.
The selected players seemed almost sanguine about what they were about to take part in, young players apart from an older Young, hardly any caps or experience between them but all saying the right things in the right way and more importantly all saying the same thing.
Whilst the squad were honing the non playing skills mentioned above, back home, who remembers that one? Back home the English football culture was beginning to stare and no sooner had the host nation walked out for the opening game the formula for selling football kicked in, excuse the pun.
Two things dominate the airwaves and hoardings, alcohol and betting.
At this point I have to say I am no Puritan, a pint is as appealing to me as the next man, and the odd bet has been placed on the Grand National now and then, usually at Grand National time.
I wanted to share that because what I am about to say might give the wrong impression of me.
Football has gone through some tough times with it being the chosen outlet for yobs and scum to use it as the excuse to fight the same no brain idiots from the other team. In the past it has been blamed for all kinds of social troubles and more recently greed and avarice.
So at the very time football started to embrace real people again, people who avoided it due to incidents from the above, the game is immediately reunited with its two old mates, encouraged by its administrators and more enthusiastically by its accountants.
As England unexpectedly and brilliantly progressed so did the bolt ons. I have lost count over the past month of the number of Lager, Beer, Cider ads interspersed with every bookmaker you can think of, open a tinny and win big.
Supermarkets with beer and lager offers so cheap and in such quantities that the thinking is you can’t watch a match without a tin in one hand and your mobile betting app in the other.
The team marched on, those normal people were getting interested again, but the enforced mates of the beautiful game weren’t having that, huge areas were created for people to watch outside on big screens, holding on to their emotions in one hand and a pint glass in the other, oh yes I forgot to say, no alcohol free zones here.
Then tv would replay which place had the best celebrations of an English goal, not based on noise but how much beer soared into the air dropped into hair of the person next to you.
By the time of the restart the chucker realises he has one hand free, no beer!!! Off for another...and so it continued, noisy, beer stained, over the top reactions.
The team marched on and on as the trumpet player blew, to the tune September and reached only the nations third World Cup semi final appearance! Wow...what an opportunity... to sell more beer, bet a little bit more oh, and crank up the level of expectation and blind enthusiasm to eleven.
All of a sudden people, press, tv were losing their level headedness and realism, casting away their cautious optimism for in your face almost jingoistic analysis. The media even brought back the munch loved football ditty, “footballs coming home “ and not content with that, they took the title and cajoled, not to unwillingly it has to be said, many different celebrities to urge on our boys to glory... our “boys” had been doing very well being urged on by Mr Southgate and themselves. Now the pressure was building, a pressure that wasn’t there just a week before.
All this came to a head on semi final night and the aftermath of the result, a result that saw England’s brave young lions lose after taking an early lead to Croatia. In the second half they seemed to tire and be carrying not only heavy legs and a couple of knocks but, a weight of expectation that hadn’t been there previously.
When the final whistle blew, Those normal people who had come back to football sighed, shook their heads and carried on...some, like me who remember past near misses and I can go back as far as 1970, where even as a 5 year old scratched my head at Sir Alf’s substitutions that knocked our world champions out , put it all into perspective quite quickly and again carried on.
However, as we saw around the country including, sadly, the town I was born in, the reaction was very different, fuelled by the association with one of its enforced bedfellows, fights, vandalism, disorder broke out.
Everything that football had shown it was the opposite of for a few weeks was back, with a vengeance and latching itself back on to the beautiful game. A parasite, using football to feed and prosper whilst leaving its host to try and fix its reputation.
The young squad and its young manager had almost worked a miracle both on and off the pitch... they will return, quite rightly, to a heroes welcome.
But the game they play may want to delay that journey, it may want to wallow in Russia for a while, hold on to its new found popularity, enjoy being free of its corporate parasites.
Football, may not want to come home.
No comments:
Post a Comment