Irish pastime back as time comes to rue Britannia
No sooner had Fabio Capello done his una duce, una voce thing and attempted to bring some gritty realism to lurid soap opera by stripping John Terry of the captain’s armband than, in a weird bit of collateral damage, Ashley Cole shipped a serious injury thereby increasing the likelihood of Wayne Bridge having to play in the same side as the man who surreptitiously took up with the latter’s former partner. The X-Files meets The Ex-Files, if you will, and the whole thing was so splendidly mad even Sepp Blatter couldn’t resist wading in with another of his killer gags.
Of course, the loudest laugher emanates, as ever, from the land where the main players otherwise command a devoted following. I refer, of course, to this great little nation of ours, a place where two of the chief sporting pastimes are cheering on English players in their club shirts and wishing them the worst in the World (Cup) when they pull on the one with the three lions.
There’s nothing new in all this, of course. Twenty years ago, in my old alma mater Hotpress, one of our number came up with what we all agreed was a wizard idea as part of our build-up coverage to Italia ‘90. Arthur Mathews, nominally the mag’s art director at the time, was a life-long footie nut and dedicated supporter of Drogheda, Leeds and Ireland. A burgeoning comic genius to boot – as his later success as co-writer of ‘Fr Ted’ would confirm – Arthur was therefore the ideal man to helm a little feature we called ‘Rue Britannia’, in which 10 of England’s greatest defeats were lovingly recalled, each being awarded a “chuckle rating” out of 10.
Highlights included Maradona’s fist-foot combination to give Argentina a 2-1 win in 1986 (chuckle rating 8); the country formerly known as Eire becoming the first side to beat England on home soil at Goodison Park in 1949 (7); England failing to qualify for the 1974 World Cup after Jan Tomazewski, the goalkeeper Brian Clough unwisely dubbed a clown, helped Poland secure a 1-1 draw at Wembley (9); West Germany coming back from two-down to win 3-2 in the 1970 World Cup after Alf Ramsey had disastrously withdrawn Bobby Charlton to save him for the semi-finals (8); and Norway’s celebrated 1-0 win in 1984, a shocker which inspired that wonderfully triumphalist commentary by Bjorge Lillelien (“Can you hear me Maggie Thatcher, your boys took a hell of a beating” etc) and, six years on, prompted Arthur, awarding it a big chuckle rating of 9, to muse: “Ken Bailey, the official England mascot who dresses up in Union Jack gear, wears a top hat and is the only actual real-life person you can get in Subbuteo, must have felt a right twerp as he walked back to the supporters’ bus.”
Only one England defeat in the top 10 scored maximum points on the chuckle rating. Gentle reader, can you guess which one it was? “We are still crying,” was all Arthur wrote beneath the simple, self-explanatory legend: “Republic of Ireland 1 England 0, Stuttgart, 1988.”
Quite.
Of course, that list was compiled two decades ago, meaning that England’s “30 years of hurt”, as Skinner and Baddiel had it in 1996, have now extended to 44. Any self-respecting updated list would be fairly coming down with penalty shoot-out heartache, not to mention such chucklesome moments as Gazza’s tears in 1990, Graham Taylor turned into a turnip in 1992, Becks’ sending off in 1998, Ronaldinho leaving Seaman all at sea in 2002, Zidane’s late, late double in 2004, Wayne Rooney’s tangle with Ronaldo in 2006 and Steve McLaren’s umbrella at Wembley as Croatia condemned England to a Euro exit in 2007. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention Glenn Hoddle getting the boot for his views on that old football bugbear, the transmigration of souls.
AND while England were conspicuously failing to add to their one piece of silverware, Arthur Mathews was setting himself up in London town and cleaning them out of their Baftas. In conversation with the great man about all this yesterday, Arthur confessed that he now feels a bit guilty about his hilarious exercise in schadenfreude of 20 years ago. “Living in England, I saw how generous a people they are,” he told me, “And, even though it was just for fun, I don’t think I would feel as comfortable about doing a similar list now.”
Which is a fair point. After all, when Thierry Henry manhandled Ireland out of the World Cup in November, the support for the Irish cause was loud, heartfelt and almost universal in Blighty. No sign there, or indeed ever before, of an ABI mentality. But then I’ve always maintained that our own ABE fetish has nothing to do with 700 years of bondage and everything to do with 30 years of Jimmy Hill. In other words, the England football team isn’t the problem, so much as the people who make a living out of telling us how great the England football team is supposed to be.
So where does all this leave us, as we resume our all too familiar posture of outside observers while our neighbours head for South Africa? Arthur Mathews reckons that we’ll really have grown up as a nation when we’re indifferent to how England get on in international football. But I don’t feel we’re quite ready for that yet, even with France now installed as serious competition for the role of team we love to hate.
So here’s a compromise. Let’s wish England well at the forthcoming World Cup. Let’s hope a good man like Fabio Capello and top players like Steven Gerrard and Wayne Rooney distinguish themselves on the world’s biggest stage. In short, let’s hope England play brilliant football, score a rake of fantastic goals and overcome some of the biggest names in world football on their way to an historic final – before losing to Germany in time added on through a disputed ball-over-the-line goal.
A little something there for everyone, I think you’ll agree.
And, frankly, the chuckle rating would be way off the scale.
