July Newsletter
Everybody in the UK watches the World Cup because every time we qualify, we stand on the edge of greatness. Whether you are into soccer, as you call it, or not, the World Cup is like our version of your Super Bowl. The last time England won in 1966, we hosted it. Back then its iconography was British. It was the Union Jack that fluttered over the Wembley sunshine. The defeat of West Germany in that ‘66 World Cup final was widely viewed through the prism of the Second World War. When Geoff Hurst’s goal made it 3-2, the crowd spontaneously broke into Rule Britannia, likening it to VE day. The Queen attended the game and presented the trophy. Pretty much, every one of her subjects would have been watching. Whether you were a Great Train Robber hiding out in Mexico or a toddler at a London kindergarten or Sir Francis Chichester attempting his solo navigation of the globe, you listened with bated breath to see if England would triumph.
Now the iconography at England games is the Three Lions flag, denoting England as part of the United Kingdom but all of Britain will still be cheering us on. What is it about the game of football as we call it? (It is played with a foot, and a ball so why call it soccer? Whereas your football is played mostly by hand, so what is that about?) The thing about our football is it has always championed the working classes. Hooray Henrys are not any good at football. It is lads from the streets who become professional footballers because very often there is nothing else to cling to. From the likes of George Best and Rodney Marsh to Beckham and Jude Bellingham, it’s a lads’ game. It is sticking it to the ruling classes in the same way Oasis does, and the mop tops did back in their day. There is nothing as moving as an entire stadium singing: Don’t Look back in anger or Hey Jude or You’ll never walk alone.
When England plays, a remarkable transformation takes place. Fans set aside club allegiances to unite behind the national team, creating a sense of shared identity. Within football, there is also a perception that English fans expect too much from their team, given the long drought since the 1966 World Cup triumph. Anyone can adore their beloved team when they are sparkling and triumphant. The real achievement in both love and football is in finding your choice adorable even when both your team and your partner alike are standing in the rain, freezing to death. Yet, beyond the headlines, many English fans are genuine ambassadors of the game - knowledgeable, devoted, and proud of their footballing roots. Their support, though occasionally controversial, reflects a deeper national story about identity, history, and the enduring love of football and their country.
If you’re an Expatriate, like me, you get even more emotional about England’s progress in the World Cup. It's not like I care if they win the cricket or the tennis, but I want them to stay in the World Cup for a respectable length of time. It is partly that the odds of them going all the way are so small and partly that every man woman and child in Britain wants it so badly. Like all those soppy films about knobbly kneed horses from nowhere winning the Triple Crown or the school quarterback, that is illiterate but gets picked for the Rams. It's heady stuff, the World Cup. It brings Britain together when it has got just about as divided as it has ever been on any number of issues. It is like Live Aid repeating itself every four years. A higher cause. Football. Watch it with us at Mad Dogs.
