I quite admire Gareth Southgate and his team. They strike me as decent, hardworking, and honest; rare commodities in a world where liars rule the roost. So, I’ve warmed to them despite them not being my team. They are the good guys, of that there is no doubt.
Being a dispassionate observer over the other side of Offa’s Dyke allowed me to see them without the obligatory rose-tinted specs donned by just about everyone in England. I commented before last night’s game I thought Italy would win and do so quite comfortably. They are a much more experienced team, led by a manager who dwarfs Southgate in terms of tactical nouse. As it turned out, the score sheet was not as one sided as I thought it might be, finishing at 1-1 after extra time, with Italy’s triumph only being secured in a dramatic penalty shoot out in which they initially fell behind.
The stats tell a different story though. Italy enjoyed 65% of possession, had 19 shots on goal to England’s 6, 6 of which were on target compared to England’s 2. They proved to be ruthless too, committing 21 fouls to England’s 13 and in the process earning 5 yellow cards to England’s 1. They so easily could have seen red too.
The win should have been more comfortable than it was, but England’s defence stood firm and they can take pride in that. It is the basis for future progress and the simple fact Italy kept England’s strike force quiet is indicative of this: winning teams get their defence right first.
What I don’t like is the way Britain is smoothly taken over whenever English teams have a sniff of glory. The Welsh, Scottish and Irish are excluded from the party, dismissed as if we don’t exist. That rankles.
At the same time, I accept it is a function of England being a much more populous country than any of the other parts of the United Kingdom. They want to celebrate their own achievements and because of their comparative size, it tends to get a bit overwhelming. This is especially the case when everyone from the British Broadcasting Corporation to National politicians all indulge in an orgy of celebration notably absent when Scotland, Wales or Ireland achieve success. It may not be the case, but it makes us feel like appendages to England. We don’t get to join in with the celebrations, because we are othered at times of national joy.
Take Wales’s recent success in winning the European top tier rugby tournament, the Six Nations. Okay – it’s rugby and it doesn’t enjoy the same profile as soccer but compare the coverage with Exeter Chief’s win in the Heineken Cup in 2020, or Saracens in 2019. It was completely different gravy. At best we got grudging acceptance rather than celebration, then it was back to “what about England?”
This isn’t to deny England’s desire to celebrate, it is just to emphasise the reality that we are not a country. We are four countries, one of which so dominates proceedings the rest of us don’t get a look in, be it politically, socially, or culturally.
Boris Johnson wants us to forget about our distinct national identities. He is talking about getting rid of our devolved administrations, and he’s forcing local government buildings to dress up in Union flags – in Cardiff there are plans for an eight story flag to be displayed on the side of the new Government building in Wood Street. And yet he dresses up 10 Downing Street, the seat of the United Kingdom cabinet like this:
That NEVER happens for Wales, Scotland or Northern Ireland.
So, my gripe isn’t with England, their football team, or most of their fans (I do take exception to the racists who abused Rashford, Sterling and Saka, though – but we all have those), my gripe isn’t about England really, it’s about Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland just not existing in our national life. Far from being inclusive, the UK is an elite club with just one member and three servants. For centuries England has taken our resources, our land and our youth to fight their wars and it’s time we were noticed.
We matter too.
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