Football: goodbye and good riddance
Suspect it is sexist but accurate to say that I am one of many women who are heaving a sigh of relief this morning to wake up knowing that we are not going to have our week ruled by another England football match.
I won’t be sorry to see the flags that adorn cars everywhere grow droopy and I certainly won’t be sorry not to hear those ear-splitting air horns ever again. All of that in itself makes the patriot in me vaguely uncomfortable, but not as much as a colleague’s reaction which was a text reading simply: “I am not English anymore".
(NOTE: I am halfway tolerant of football and recognise the average Englishman’s love for the game – but I feel less tolerant when the "team" representing our so-called national sport is not only useless but incredibly quick to try and place blame elsewhere. Even if they had achieved the second goal, they were always going to lose thanks to sub-standard play.)
It is hugely depressing if most people really do believe that football is all this green and pleasant land has to offer. No wonder it is hard to get any national pride going in anything we do – from British manufacturing onwards – if Britain’s pride is seriously resting on a small bunch of over-egoed, overpaid men trying to kick a ball around.