It's time to break out the 24 year old dream story. This is the one for any amateur, or practicing, psychoanalysts, dream readers, or anybody of that ilk. Here's a case study for you.
A few weeks before Italia '90, I had a dream. Yes, it sadly was about football and specifically about the upcoming World Cup. It was vivid, it felt very real and, it has to be said, it eerily became a true happening event. This is not made up, not embellished. This is what happened.
It was a few weeks before the World Cup. Not sure exactly how long before. For some reason (an unimportant fact) I missed the World Cup (this could be turning into an unimaginable nightmare!). I got back home, from wherever I was, and asked my Dad if the English supporters caused any trouble in Italy. This was the time when "hooliganism" and "English football'', in the eyes of the world, went together as well as Yorkshire pudding and Sunday roast, or Wimbledon and rain. He told me that they behaved except for when England played in Bari.
The next day, dream over, I check the schedule. England are playing their first round matches in Sardinia, so that the English and Dutch fans can battle it out together with the Irish, who are more interested in looking for a pub and a good laugh, and the bemused, and unlucky, Egyptians. And they will be far away from the mainland to be of any nuisance to the locals. I guess the Italians didn't really care about the Sardinian locals. After figuring out all the possible combinations for the second round, there is no possibility of England playing in Bari. Same for the quarter finals and semis. And this is taking every possibility into consideration. There is only one way that England play in Bari: if they are in the match that nobody remembers, the losers' match, the 3rd/4th place play-off. So they have to lose in the semi-final.
It doesn't look very likely in a typically terrible opening group phase for England. But, there they go, off to the second round, where David Platt becomes a known name with his Platt-which-way-are-you-swivellling extra time on-the-volley winner against Belgium. And the feeling starts to grow. Could this dream actually happen? Into the quarter finals and Cameroon are winning 2-1 and I'm thinking, it's ok, England will win this. Sure enough the Cameroonians all of a sudden forget quite what they're doing and get a little over enthusiastic with their tackling. Two Gary Lineker penalties later and I'm a step closer to believing that the dreams do come true.
The night before England's semi against Germany, there is much excitement in Malta as Italy lose to Argentina. The Italians are out! Now England will get to the final! Why the excitement in Malta has to be explained another day. But, by now I am so convinced that the dream is playing out that I not only have my usual no faith in England, I also feel I know that England will lose.
Germany score through a lucky deflected free-kick and, even though, I am watching with no hope a strange second sensation starts, that England will not lose like this. And, boom, Lineker, equalizes and we're off to extra time. Of course England lose on penalties but this time I am not surprised or disappointed. It's easy not to be disappointed when you've had about 5 weeks to preempt that feeling of disappointment and prepare for it.
England would lose against Italy in the battle of the wish-we-weren't here teams. It turned out to be more friendly than a friendly. A short while later David Platt played for Bari and I always remember that strange looking stadium, with it's white sun-shade type roof and pods of seats in the top level which looked like they'd been snapped onto the rest of the stadium.
As Brazil comes closer I will myself to dream about Neymar scoring a counter attack end-to-end winner against Argentina in the last minute of this year's final......or maybe Adam Lallana popping up to hit the World Cup winner for England. Just a dream maybe.......
Saturday 8 March 2014
Friday 7 March 2014
The World Cup moral dilemma
There is turmoil in my mind, some days, guilt maybe, about getting excited about this World Cup. In 1982 I had no real idea about the interference of politics with football, or the other way round. The Falklands war was something on the news. I had no real concept of how many thousands of lives had been affected. England and Argentina were at the World Cup. So everything was good, right?
In later years there were tales of Fifa bigwigs making a little bit of extra cash for themselves. A sense of injustice started to nag away at me. But still, there was Ronaldo and Lineker and Maradona.....and all was forgotten.
Now, with all the protests at the Confederation Cup last year and the extremely real grievances of so many Brazilians, I think, is this right? Can we justify, through watching, the incredible outlay of cash for this one event while so many Brazilians have little and get nothing from this? Are we saying we don't care because we are going to spend a silly amount of money to fly to Brazil, stay in overpriced hotels and feed the Fifa behemoth?
Should we feel guilty, should we ignore what's happening or can we separate the 2 events: there is football being played, a world cup being competed for and there is a huge chunk of the local population that needs a lot more than fancy stadiums.
Can one, as a football supporter, have a social conscience and enjoy the World Cup?
In later years there were tales of Fifa bigwigs making a little bit of extra cash for themselves. A sense of injustice started to nag away at me. But still, there was Ronaldo and Lineker and Maradona.....and all was forgotten.
Now, with all the protests at the Confederation Cup last year and the extremely real grievances of so many Brazilians, I think, is this right? Can we justify, through watching, the incredible outlay of cash for this one event while so many Brazilians have little and get nothing from this? Are we saying we don't care because we are going to spend a silly amount of money to fly to Brazil, stay in overpriced hotels and feed the Fifa behemoth?
Should we feel guilty, should we ignore what's happening or can we separate the 2 events: there is football being played, a world cup being competed for and there is a huge chunk of the local population that needs a lot more than fancy stadiums.
Can one, as a football supporter, have a social conscience and enjoy the World Cup?
Wednesday 5 March 2014
Roy without the rovers
England will at some point (soon) appoint another manager. There will be much fanfare, much hope for a new beginning, a fresh start in a meaningless friendly-"look how much the players seem to enjoy the new system, the freedom, the joy in the way they play". And the hope cycle will start again. A new qualification phase, with the dream of an easy group win and a triumphant march to the Euro championship or the World Cup. Of course, there is always the small matter of suddenly producing players who can play a few notches above what their capable to make the manager look like the messiah.
This has happened with every new England manager in my lifetime. Except for the one poor soul who didn't even get that "new manager" optimism. Roy, my sympathies.......
Tuesday 4 March 2014
I was born in 1982.
One hundred days to go. When Spain bored Holland into submission, and defeat, almost 4 years ago Brazil 2014 seemed like it would be in another lifetime. And we all thought....Brazil...how wonderful is that going to be? How could it go wrong? This is the country that owns football. All that would have to happen is that the world shows up to play. How hard could it be?
I guess we forgot to factor in the whole organization of a major event thingy. Stadiums had to be built, plus hotels airports, roads.......And all of this amongst all the now so sad and common rumours of local football officials, construction companies and probably a few Fifa characters looking out for themselves. In the end we hope the stadiums all have seats, the grass grows, the roofs don't fly off and that the Brazilians are happy. It wasn't all like this in 1982.
My conscious life started in 1982, in June 1982. Sure, there may be memory flashes of toys played with and waves washing me up on beaches (!) but it is that summer of which I can recall specific events. Espana '82. It was fun. Everybody around me talked about the "World Cup". And there was no corruption, no politics, no locals protesting about being ignored. No, there was Cameroon, Ziggy Boniek, Paolo Rossi, the eyes of Marco Tardelli and Dino Zoff and Brazil. Dino was my idol, until I was converted, not allowed to like those mean Italians anymore. But more importantly there was Brazil, THAT Brazil.......Zico, Eder, Falcao, Socrates, Junior, Cerezo. They had the exotic names and every night that they played it was an event. And I was in awe. Yes, this world cup thingamabob was fun. I wanted to watch this every summer.
Too young to worry about end of year school exams, this was the summer of being every Brazilian player for a few hours outside every evening until "the match" started. I didn't know, or wouldn't have cared less if there was any controversy. Sure, the Falkland's War had just ended and the Argentinian and English fans didn't really like each other, but what did I know about that. I only knew about Kevin Keegan's bad back, or was it Brooking? Or did Brooking have something else wrong with him? Bryan Robson scored after 27 seconds against France (England are going to win the World Cup!). I thought Northern Ireland were good. They beat Spain even though the referee tried to give Spain a second chance to score a penalty. Controversy? Yes, I learned about that too, but only on the pitch. The Kuwaiti Prince ordered his team off the pitch because he thought it unfair that the French were better than them. Harold Schumacher wasn't sent off for knocking that poor guy out cold? Germany and Austria agreed that Germany would win 1-0. I didn't really get that one for a while.
All of that made it even more wow! This is great stuff. When do they all do this again? Four years? Ah well, at least we can watch Brazil for a couple more weeks. Even that new superstar, Maradona, couldn't stop them. Only Dino. And he did. And Paolo Rossi scored 3 and Brazil were gone. What did I care that Bryan Robson's 27 second goal didn't automatically mean that England would be champions. The disaster was that the Harlem Globetrotters of football were beaten by the oh so boring Italians who didn't even win a match in the first round. They had a "system", apparently. The Brazilians didn't. They just had Zico et al. And it all seemed so unfair.....another lesson I learned.
So Italy went on and won the whole thing. Rossi scored a few more. And Marco Tardelli's arm waving, eyes bulging goal celebration stuck in my head. Did these players make millions at the time? Were there wives and girlfriends celebrities? Did they have to choose between their personal sponsor's boot and the team's? Did they care more about playing for their club or country? Did Fifa insist that only their sponsors' logos were visible? I don't know and I didn't care. But I did know that Marco Tardelli scored a goal to win the World Cup for his country and he was very, very happy.
And the best team doesn't always win........
I guess we forgot to factor in the whole organization of a major event thingy. Stadiums had to be built, plus hotels airports, roads.......And all of this amongst all the now so sad and common rumours of local football officials, construction companies and probably a few Fifa characters looking out for themselves. In the end we hope the stadiums all have seats, the grass grows, the roofs don't fly off and that the Brazilians are happy. It wasn't all like this in 1982.
My conscious life started in 1982, in June 1982. Sure, there may be memory flashes of toys played with and waves washing me up on beaches (!) but it is that summer of which I can recall specific events. Espana '82. It was fun. Everybody around me talked about the "World Cup". And there was no corruption, no politics, no locals protesting about being ignored. No, there was Cameroon, Ziggy Boniek, Paolo Rossi, the eyes of Marco Tardelli and Dino Zoff and Brazil. Dino was my idol, until I was converted, not allowed to like those mean Italians anymore. But more importantly there was Brazil, THAT Brazil.......Zico, Eder, Falcao, Socrates, Junior, Cerezo. They had the exotic names and every night that they played it was an event. And I was in awe. Yes, this world cup thingamabob was fun. I wanted to watch this every summer.
Too young to worry about end of year school exams, this was the summer of being every Brazilian player for a few hours outside every evening until "the match" started. I didn't know, or wouldn't have cared less if there was any controversy. Sure, the Falkland's War had just ended and the Argentinian and English fans didn't really like each other, but what did I know about that. I only knew about Kevin Keegan's bad back, or was it Brooking? Or did Brooking have something else wrong with him? Bryan Robson scored after 27 seconds against France (England are going to win the World Cup!). I thought Northern Ireland were good. They beat Spain even though the referee tried to give Spain a second chance to score a penalty. Controversy? Yes, I learned about that too, but only on the pitch. The Kuwaiti Prince ordered his team off the pitch because he thought it unfair that the French were better than them. Harold Schumacher wasn't sent off for knocking that poor guy out cold? Germany and Austria agreed that Germany would win 1-0. I didn't really get that one for a while.
All of that made it even more wow! This is great stuff. When do they all do this again? Four years? Ah well, at least we can watch Brazil for a couple more weeks. Even that new superstar, Maradona, couldn't stop them. Only Dino. And he did. And Paolo Rossi scored 3 and Brazil were gone. What did I care that Bryan Robson's 27 second goal didn't automatically mean that England would be champions. The disaster was that the Harlem Globetrotters of football were beaten by the oh so boring Italians who didn't even win a match in the first round. They had a "system", apparently. The Brazilians didn't. They just had Zico et al. And it all seemed so unfair.....another lesson I learned.
So Italy went on and won the whole thing. Rossi scored a few more. And Marco Tardelli's arm waving, eyes bulging goal celebration stuck in my head. Did these players make millions at the time? Were there wives and girlfriends celebrities? Did they have to choose between their personal sponsor's boot and the team's? Did they care more about playing for their club or country? Did Fifa insist that only their sponsors' logos were visible? I don't know and I didn't care. But I did know that Marco Tardelli scored a goal to win the World Cup for his country and he was very, very happy.
And the best team doesn't always win........
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