So, it’s finally here again. That flag waving celebration of xenophobia that we all know better as The World Cup. The time when people who normally couldn’t tell you one end of a football from the other bedeck their cars, houses, dogs, kids and anything else they can lay their hands on with England paraphernalia. The same people who insist on having conversations about players they wouldn’t normally care about (or have heard of) and insist on telling you what little they know about “the beautiful game.”
The time when advertisers attempt to make us all believe that unless you’re having a barbecue with your family and friends while watching an England game and simultaneously downing copious amounts of booze, you’re actually betraying your country. The month every four years when people who don’t like football are actually made to feel guilty about that fact. The time when you can’t walk into any shop or supermarket without being dazzled by notices telling you to “support the boys.” Oh, what joy.
Now, as a confirmed football fan, I will be glued to my TV for the next month (not whilst having a barbecue and consuming enough booze to make your average rock band throw up I hasten to add). I will be watching as a person who loves football as a game and one who actually supports a Premier League team and watches that team week in week out during the season.
For that reason, I will not be supporting England.
My hatred for most of the England team when they’re playing for their clubs is rabid and total and just because they slip on an England kit doesn’t change my loathing for them. For nine months of the season I despise Wayne Rooney, Frank Lampard, Ashley Cole, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand and many others. Just because they’re playing for England it doesn’t change my opinion of them. A pig is still a pig even if it’s wearing a silk suit. In fact, the quicker England are knocked out the better, then normality can return and the people who flock to the game solely on these big occasions can return to their normal pastimes or they can transfer their rampant nationalism to some other sport like tennis or cricket.
So, raise a glass (while you’re having a barbecue) to the prospect of four weeks of football. I certainly shall and I’m hoping I’ll be toasting a great win for Spain, Argentina or Germany come the end of the tournament. Cheers.
So, it’s finally here again. That flag waving celebration of xenophobia that we all know better as The World Cup. The time when people who normally couldn’t tell you one end of a football from the other bedeck their cars, houses, dogs, kids and anything else they can lay their hands on with England paraphernalia. The same people who insist on having conversations about players they wouldn’t normally care about (or have heard of) and insist on telling you what little they know about “the beautiful game.”The time when advertisers attempt to make us all believe that unless you’re having a barbecue with your family and friends while watching an England game and simultaneously downing copious amounts of booze, you’re actually betraying your country. The month every four years when people who don’t like football are actually made to feel guilty about that fact. The time when you can’t walk into any shop or supermarket without being dazzled by notices telling you to “support the boys.” Oh, what joy. Now, as a confirmed football fan, I will be glued to my TV for the next month (not whilst having a barbecue and consuming enough booze to make your average rock band throw up I hasten to add). I will be watching as a person who loves football as a game and one who actually supports a Premier League team and watches that team week in week out during the season.
For that reason, I will not be supporting England. My hatred for most of the England team when they’re playing for their clubs is rabid and total and just because they slip on an England kit doesn’t change my loathing for them. For nine months of the season I despise Wayne Rooney, Frank Lampard, Ashley Cole, John Terry, Rio Ferdinand and many others. Just because they’re playing for England it doesn’t change my opinion of them. A pig is still a pig even if it’s wearing a silk suit. In fact, the quicker England are knocked out the better, then normality can return and the people who flock to the game solely on these big occasions can return to their normal pastimes or they can transfer their rampant nationalism to some other sport like tennis or cricket.
So, raise a glass (while you’re having a barbecue) to the prospect of four weeks of football. I certainly shall and I’m hoping I’ll be toasting a great win for Spain, Argentina or Germany come the end of the tournament. Cheers.
