Well, Well, Well, What Have We Here Then? That's all that I was seeing on the faces of the English football fans, passionately cheering on England during their latest World Cup humiliation at the hands of Uruguay. Why was I seeing that? I hear literally nobody ask. Well it was because I couldn't stop smiling.
Now to explain myself, as an Englishman most people would believe that I am obliged to support 'our boys', and to a lesser degree 'our girls' (but that's for another time), in whatever sporting event is taking place. It is a modern ritual of sport, tribal in its nature, whereby every once in a while the flag of St. George is hung proudly from balconies, windows and occasionally off someone's neck. We as a nation are conditioned to believe that we should support our country, and in doing so, we share in the victories and defeats of our nation as a collective. Despite having no part in the process we believe we hold this right, we neither kicked nor engaged with the team (especially true of those supporting and singing from a hot, sweaty and uncomfortable pub in Rochester). Yet we still believe our support is fundamental to their success. I however, do not believe that you should be required to support your nation, your 'boys' or your 'girls' in any sport, you should support the team or individual (in solo sports) that you have a connection with. This brings me to why I was smiling, I simply do not like the England team.
I confess to engaging in the tribalism that comes with being a fan of a team in a popular sport. As an Arsenal fan I understand how passion can drive people to believe that everyone should support their team, even the nature of disappointment and anger as you see another enjoy the failure of your team. What I do not understand is this obsession with national pride and how everyone should become uninhibited nationalists for a few weeks of the year. The comments I received last night from friends as I was giggling, smiling and at times deliberately provoking them, seemed to be bordering on accusations of treachery. A crime for which I should be tried and executed! To be perfectly honest, some of it I did deserve and expect. You simply cannot poke a bear and not expect a few swipes back in anger. Putting aside the nature of the remarks it did get me thinking, why did I (seemingly alone) enjoy England's defeat, whilst all the other people I was surrounded by met it with a dejected sense of inevitability? The answer is simple, I just do not like the players (most of them anyway), our football 'philosophy', and the inevitability that the influx of foreign players will be blamed (by some xenophobic twat) and believed by millions for England's failures at the World Cup. The last one is particularly important. After spent months arguing with some former friends, about the ridiculousness of nationalist politics and the racist undertones (and quite often overtones) of Britain First, UKIP and the BNP, I guess I just do not want anything even remotely resembling that nationalist rhetoric in one of the few refuges still I have. Football is, and hopefully always will be, my escape from the many things that routinely piss me off about Britain. In a way I guess I can track my evolution from an ardent and emotionally volatile England fan to the football fan I am today through my political education, but that is beside the point.
What is my point? It is that I no longer have any affinity with the national team, I simply enjoy football at an international level, and I particularly enjoy football played entertainingly. It cannot always be entertaining and when it is not, in that typically 'British' stereotype, I enjoy the underdogs giving the big teams a spanking. That's why I will be hoping for Costa Rica to get something out of the game today against Italy, and that's why I was laughing at England's defensive ineptitude against Uruguay. Simply because I prefer those teams and I do not feel the need to have a sense of (ridiculous) pride in the patch of land I happened to be birthed upon.
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