(Photograph: UK Prime Minister, CC BY 2.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0>, via Wikimedia Commons)
As a Scot my interest in international football competitions, such as the ongoing Euros in Germany, is usually non-existent or short-lived. This proved to be the case this week after Scotland was thumped in their opening game against Germany, and then continued not to play well enough to progress from the group to the knockout stage.
But Scotland, nevertheless, left the field of play with their heads held high and the continued affection of their fans. Spurred on by a world beating rendition of Flower of Scotland before their final match they played their hearts out, but still failed to make an impression on Hungary who beat them 1-0.
How different from the England team. First, it should be pointed out to anyone who does not watch the beautiful game, that England came top of their group by some kind of inexplicable miracle. They scraped through each game and only seem to have done so by virtue of the fact that the other teams were unable to raise their game, even to England’s low standards.
From the minute they walk on to the pitch to the minute they leave, they seem down at the mouth, hunched and lacklustre. Any rumours that the England team are on drugs are probably true but, sadly, they seem to be doing lines of temazepam in the dressing room and not anything that is likely to enhance their performance.
In the final game, very much as they did in the other games, they seemed to treat the whistle for kick-off like a surprise, looking at each other momentarily as if to say, ‘what was that, did you hear anything?’ Thereafter, they lumbered about the pitch like they were playing in a league for old age pensioners. It is reminiscent of Monty Python’s philosophers football match sketch.
In fact, their main man up front – Harry Kane – is not far off his pension. He spends the game covering a very limited area of the pitch; someone should bring him a deckchair. Admittedly, he scored the only goal in the group, but that only emphasises the poor standards on display. Also, he would have found it hard to miss as all he had to do was raise himself momentarily from his metaphorical deckchair to wallop a crossed ball into the back of the opposition net. That, after all, is his job.
Regarding Philosopher General Gareth Southgate, it is nothing short of incomprehensible how he can watch his team on the pitch and not make more changes both during and after the games. For example, why is a clearly fading Harry Kane on the pitch from the start of each game? Why, when a place in the knockout stage was in the bag, did he not field a team of much less experienced and, on the whole, younger players? If nothing else, these players would have gained some experience, but they may also have shown a great deal more enthusiasm and actually scored a goal.
Once the final whistle has gone (the players seem to have no difficulty hearing this one), the players stop prancing about ineffectually and some show how much they have exerted themselves by collapsing to the ground and lying about on the pitch trying to catch their breath. Again, how can Southgate bear to watch this? He and the fitness coaches should take a leaf from the book of the instructors of the Royal Army Physical Training Corps. If a squaddie’s legs even look like they are going to wobble at the end of a hard training session, they’ll get another ten press-ups…and another ten…until they stand up, without wobbling. How much better would it look to the upcoming opposition teams if, after a hard game, the England players all remained erect?
Without being too facile, it seems to me that the state of the country is reflected when the England football team is on the pitch. Southgate’s refusal to make the necessary changes and instil the necessary discipline that might inject some spirit into the team reflects our politicians, who continually say and do the same things with no good effect. Did Einstein not say that ‘Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results’?
And what of the players, who reflect the prevailing mentality among many of their generation, an overwhelming sense of entitlement. Their latent talent – which has remained latent these past two weeks – is undeniable, but many of them as individuals earn money that can be reckoned by the second. Collectively, they could probably solve the economic woes of a moderately sized developing country. Yet they look miserable. From the body art on display, some of them seem to spend inordinate amounts of time in tattoo parlours, thus conveying the impression to our youth that the route to happiness and success is to have the head of a snake, or some other delightful creature, tattooed up the side of their neck, appearing to nibble their ear.
Southgate had some plastic glasses thrown at him at the end of the match in appreciation of the England display during the group stage of the Euros. Did he get the message? Not quite. Oblivious to the fact that it was the team’s performance that was responsible, he blamed the fans for creating an ‘unusual environment’ for the players. It reminded me of the criticism of the stupid working classes of the United Kingdom when they voted for Brexit.
Normally, and unusually for a Scot, my loyalty usually transfers to England once Scotland make their customary exit from these competitions. Not this time; I am supporting Slovenia.
Roger Watson is a retired academic, editor and writer. He is a columnist with Unity News Network and writes regularly for a range of conservative journals including The Salisbury Review and The European Conservative. He has travelled and worked extensively in the Far East and the Middle East. He lives in Kingston upon Hull, UK.
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Its a game of football, get a life.
I equally loathe and know nothing whatsoever about football, but even I can tell that a bunch of overpaid preening prima donnas have replaced the national squads of old and with predictable results. Eleven keen amateur sixth formers would probably play their hearts out and win, being yet unsullied by what professional football has become.