Days of anticipation, hours of frustrated preparation, and a weary, weary day today.
And all for what?
Yet another England cock-up!
I can't say I was surprised. Lately, we don't seem to manage an easy win against anyone, and we certainly weren't going to pull one off against Croatia unless the Croatian boys were going to treat it as a friendly kickabout.
In fact, my dominant feeling this morning was a certain sense of justice. It was a fair result on the night, and probably for our qualifying campaign overall: we don't deserve to be going to the European Championships, because we just haven't played well enough for the past 18 months.
There was also, I think, a feeling of some relief. I can now enjoy the Championships next year without the distracting burden of obligation that the presence of our perennially underperforming national team imposes. Free of those few vestigial promptings of patriotic loyalty I sometimes feel, I can simply pick a team to follow based on technical merit alone - I might even tip the eventual winners (it has been known to happen: I was an 'early adopter' of the Danes when they pulled off their surprise win in '92; and a - less prophetic - supporter of the French in 2000). I'll be able to enjoy to enjoy each and every game, without worrying about what its implications for England's draw might be. I'll be able to savour the whole tournament without the dark cloud of looming national disappointment diminishing my enjoyment.
I'm actually quite glad England are gone.
I sometimes wish I could rid myself of my attachment to the bloody team altogether (it is a stubborn hangover of my childhood, one of the last remnants of a national pride I've never really felt all that strongly, and have all but completely renounced now that I have become a career expat). But..... come the World Cup qualifiers in another year or so, I daresay I'll be putting myself through that emotional wringer all over again.
All sports fans are masochists - but English football fans more so than most.
4 comments:
Nice, put not your trust in... friends who work for large law firms. they'll cancel your dinner date 7 times out of ten.
Can you please be a Writer? I mean, you are a Writer, but can you write me a book? we could publish it online in installments, if that makes it feel like a blog and less intimidating a task to commit. Lots of great writers were published in installments.
And speaking of, can you lend me that book, by the irish dude, #100 on the book book?
We'll see, Tulsa. I thought you wanted the Auster first.
I can't be carrying a whole sackfull of books around with me every time I go out.
Postscript: In '96, in tandem with supporting England's surprisingly strong progress, I was backing the Czechs.... who narrowly failed against Germany in the Final (as we had in the semi). (How on earth did Germany win that one? They really weren't all that good.)
I don't recall the Euros being on TV in the '80s. I suppose they must have been, but I was too busy being a wild & crazy student to notice...
why not?
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