The dream man
From Bond to a football manager
Some crushes rewrite all the rules of sex appeal. For 30 years, I said I’d rather eat slugs than kiss a man in a waistcoat. But now, like a lightning bolt on a summer’s day,
I’ve had an erotic epiphany: there’s something blazingly magnetic about a furrow-browed bloke who’s not afraid to don a charcoal-grey, buttoned jerkin (I should maybe mention that knitted, polka-dot tie, too).
I am, of course, talking about Gareth Southgate. Nor am I alone in this eureka moment. Across the land, peri-menopausal women are gushing about Gareth and indulging in harmless fantasies where the England manager displays everyday prowess and decency — rescuing their cats from trees or driving a tow-truck to their stricken car.
The comedian Madeleine Brettingham tweeted: “Gareth Southgate is the ultimate middleaged crush. I just want him to drive me to a colonoscopy appointment then sit outside eating a Scotch egg in dignified silence.”
A school gates’ mum friend confessed her current daydream involved “being held hostage by a psycho during a bank heist gone wrong. Suddenly, I realise the police negotiator is Gareth
Southgate. He knows exactly what to say to the mad man, speaking calmly and clearly while walking towards him, ready to take the bullet in my place.
Except he has gently taken the gun from the mesmerised hoodlum’s hand. And then he takes off his jacket and places it gently over my shaking shoulders.”
In many ways, I nurture the same feelings for Southgate I once had for the Green Cross Code Man, the public safety film superhero who taught millions of British children how to cross a road safely. Played by David Prowse of Star Wars (Darth Vader), he conveyed the sense that no harm could come to you if he was watching your steps.
The collective pash reminds me of the moment in 2006, after the premiere of Casino Royale, when every woman I knew realised they were in lust with the new 007. The UK’s canniest arbiter of middle-class female taste, Emma Bridgewater, even brought out a tea towel bearing the legend: “I had a really nice dream last night about Daniel Craig.” If Bridgewater replaced Craig with Southgate, she’d have another bestseller on her hands. What’s fascinating is how the mood of the times defines the heartthrobs we choose. In the swaggering mid-2000s — before the gloom of the 2008 recession — we felt safe enough to embrace an icy-eyed assassin in his budgiesmugglers. Fifteen years later, after a global pandemic, heightened anxiety and a shamed secretary of state for health, we want a very different sort of hero; one who epitomises decency, loyalty, modesty and reliability, every bit as much as skill, acumen, a cool head under pressure and a talent for winning.
Just look at Southgate’s reassuring backstory. Where other football stars of the 1990s were flashy or unstable, he’s always been upright and a family man, with no great taste for partying.
He’s solidly middle-class, too (his dad worked at IBM and his mother was a teacher), with a decent education, which meant some teammates teased him for being “a posh boy”.
Many people’s heart went out to Southgate when he missed a penalty in the 1996 Euro match against Germany, saying years afterwards: “It would be what people remembered me by, and I had to accept it.” But as we all know (and, since this is a footy piece, I think I’m allowed at least one cliche), what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Southgate wrote in his 2003 autobiography: “I learned more about life from that missed penalty than from any number of victories.” This makes him the patron saint of comeback heroes, and there are few things more intoxicating than that. Almost all the best-loved sporting movies, from Rocky to The Damned United, are about a has-been who gets one more chance to shine.
His own glaring moment of public humiliation means Southgate is better placed than anyone to understand the pressures on his young players, and to school them in resilience. Few things are more touching than seeing the England manager put his arm around a footballer struggling with their emotions. Old-school managers like Brian Clough and Alex Ferguson were charismatic, temperamental legends, but didn’t have Southgate’s levels of calm kindness and understanding.
Kindness, which women now fondly fantasise about being beamed our way. It has not escaped our notice that Southgate’s attractive wife, Alison, whom he met when she was a shop assistant, looks cherished, relaxed and happy. She doesn’t emanate the worldweary, backseat frustration of many a leader’s, or politician’s, spouse.
Southgate said back in 2018: “My focus inevitably gets driven towards making this team as successful as we can . . . but I’m also a dad and a husband.” No wonder one frustrated man posted on Twitter: “Every time I leave an annoying household task a day longer than I should, [my wife] will destroy me with a purse of the lips and a ‘Gareth Southgate would have done it by now . . .’”
If I was going to summarise Southgate’s qualities in movie pitch style, I’d describe him as a reluctant sheriff. He’s the careworn cowboy with a long face, stubbly beard and a past (missed penalty) who rides into a small town and finds the bad guys (the German, Ukrainian and Danish football teams) have terrorised the people (England football fans) and shot the last lawman (Sam Allardyce). No one wants the sheriff ’s badge, but disaster looms if our cowboy won’t accept the challenge.
Happily, he’s brave, principled and a former sharpshooter.
Basically, what I’m saying is Southgate is the Gary Cooper de nos jours, and Thursday morning was our High Noon. Now he just needs to repeat the performance. The Daily Telegraph
My wife will destroy me with a purse of the lips and a ‘Gareth Southgate would have done it by now’.
Harassed husband