Two (euphoric) Englishmen abroad
PATRICK PIERCY
I’m very slightly too young to remember England winning the World Cup in 1966. Had I known then that I’d spend the next 52 years watching them fail, I might have followed another sport.
Sometimes that failure has been heroic, even tragic: Italia 90, Euro 96, France 98.
But mostly it’s just been abject, from Poland at Wembley in 1973 all the way through to pretty much any performance over the past 15 years.
Many of those failures have come in penalty shootouts, and they’re all seared in my memory.
To paraphrase Gary Lineker, football’s a simple game: 22 men chase a ball around and, at the end, England always lose on penalties. Stuart Pearce and Chris Waddle in 1990, Gareth Southgate in 96, Paul Ince and David Batty in 1998?
Even now, it’s hard not to hold a visceral personal grudge against those players for missing their spot kicks.
When New Zealand fell into its national pit of despair after the rugby World Cup quarterfinal in 2007, I genuinely couldn’t understand it – this was just what England fans go through every time there’s a football tournament.
So yes, there was a feeling of catharsis yesterday when England finally won a World Cup shootout for the first time.
People often say penalty shootouts are a lottery, but surely in a lottery with only two tickets, the same ticket doesn’t lose every time? Well, if it was marked ‘‘England’’, it always did.
Now at last our piece of toast has landed jam-side up. It won’t last, of course. I’ll still be pacing the room and peeping through my fingers if the Sweden game goes down to the wire.
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JOSEPH PEARSON
My memories of England in planet football comprise of nothing but flashes of devastated delirium that have rolled into one ugly monkey incessantly clawing at my back.
England’s best efforts in my lifetime have been fraught with nothing but misery and incompetence.
At every major tournament, two things have been certain: England head home before the sharp end and lose penalty shootouts.
So finally witnessing England winning at the World Cup via penalties from my flat in Hamilton caused my flatmates from New Zealand, Holland and India to stir early yesterday as I yelled, screamed, jumped up and down, while hurling that ugly monkey down the corridor.
I recall all too well the agonising defeats on penalties to Portugal in Euro 2004 and again at the 2006 World Cup, and then to Italy at Euro 2012.
England’s so-called ‘‘golden generation’’ from the beginning of the 21st century may have failed to deliver, but have I lost faith for when the next footballing party starts? Not a chance.
A World Cup in Russia rolls up and England are suddenly in the round of 16, leading Colombia 1-0 after an hour thanks to Harry Kane.
It’s tense, tight, but in my mind a Colombian equaliser is inevitable. I have been here before.
Yerry Mina’s towering header in stoppage time confirms the lingering fear. I plant my face into my blanket and can’t watch extra time. I know penalties are looming and that means one thing: England lose.
Jordan Henderson’s effort is saved, not again; Colombia hit the bar, hang on; Pickford SAVES, maybe; ERIC DIER SCORES, ENGLAND HAVE WON!
Cue bedlam.
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