England is a green, hilly and pleasant land that is rich in heritage, history and culture. Among other exports, it prides itself on giving the rest of the world the so-called beautiful game of football. But there is little pride or beauty to speak of when it comes to the country’s national football team.
My own experience of supporting England is probably no different to that of any other fan. One word describes it: Traumatic. But it didn’t start out that way.
Italia ’90: Almost there
My first concrete memory of supporting England was the 1990 World Cup, where after a nervy group stage that saw us draw twice and win once, we went on to beat Belgium, with an excellent goal from David Platt that I remember vividly (and it came in extra time, so today it seems very un-English like) and Cameroon to advance to the semi finals. We were defeated there on penalties (a reoccurring theme that I and many others would come to despise) by West Germany, but I remember not been too disappointed we’d gone out. We’d played some good stuff but our luck had deserted us. It was just a one off, and we’d be back at the next major tournament.
Paul Gascoigne made an international name for himself by crying the tears of a clown on the pitch after the result. In many ways England’s future over the next 20 years at least would mirror Gazza’s torment. We didn’t know it at the time, but a great chance had been missed.
And that’s where things started to go wrong.
Euro ’92 and USA ’94: When football wasn’t really football
Under Graham Taylor at the 1992 European Championships, we crashed out at the group stage without even winning a game. I went back to school thinking it was a blip. Then, a disastrous qualifying campaign saw us fail to qualify for the 1994 World Cup. It was strange enough that the 1994 tournament would be held in the US, at the time one of the most un-football like places on earth. But to also take place without football’s father nation even kicking a ball in anger? It didn’t feel right. Whenever I looked back on World Cup history, I never felt that 1994 was a proper tournament, but that arrogance only masked how weak my country had become at a sport it had given birth to. I guess we never understood that weakness at the time. But ten years later it was there for all to see.
Taylor of course took a lot of the flak, but he must be credited with allowing the cameras so close to his squad to produce a documentary that detailed England’s failure to qualify for USA ’94 called An Impossible Job, which is fascinating viewing. Taylor was vilified by the media, but he was an innovative coach, widely credited with introducing pressing (something that we see Barcelona use so effectively today) into the English game.
Euro ’96: Getting it back
After I watched Brazil make history by beating Italy to bag their forth World Cup, a tonic of sorts was around the corner. In 1996, football “came home” to England, where the European Championships were hosted. After a nervy start against Switzerland, a Paul Gascogine wonder goal saw us defeat rivals Scotland. It was a glorious summer day, and I was sitting in my living room eating cheese and onion crisps when Gascogine’s volley went in. Since that day, salt and vinegar or prawn and cocktail have always been second best.
It was the renaissance we were all looking for, the spark that lit the blue touch paper. After that we crushed Holland 4-1 and defeated Spain on penalties to reach the semis (the antics of Stuart Pearce after his successful penalty strike are worth a watch). However, next up, was Germany.
As expected, it was a tight affair, and at 90 minutes it was 1-1. In extra time came our moment, with Gascoigne inches away from an easy tap in that would have brought us victory against the old enemy and revenge for 1990. But Gascoigne couldn’t reach it, we went to penalties, and the Germans prevailed after we missed one spot kick.
If we’d have beaten the Germans, if we’d have made that final against the Czech Republic, in front of our home fans, we would have won our first major trophy since 1966 and exorcised a few ghosts in the process. We could have been great again. Instead, we faded into the bowels of mediocrity.
The false dawns of France ’98 and Euro ‘00
In the 1998 we endured another false dawn. We progressed to the second round where we crashed out yet again on penalties, but this time to Argentina. After a wonder goal from 18-year-old Michael Owen, which set our press pack drooling, we played the vast majority of the game with 10 men, given the dismissal of David Beckham, but managed to get to extra time with the match at 2-2. There, we thought we’d done it. Defender Sol Campbell put the ball in the back of the net, but the goal was disallowed, with the defender judged to have fouled his man to gain an unfair advantage. Minutes later we were out on penalties. I looked at that tournament’s eventual winners, France, and the kind of football they were playing with the likes of Zinedine Zidane, who basically showed the Brazilians how it was done in the final, and I wondered just how far away we now were from reaching the final of any major tournament.
Euro 2000 came along and Kevin Keegan was our manager. Keegan’s teams were known for their attacking fluency but inability to defend and our first game against Portugal illuminated that perfectly. We were 2-0 up after 18 minutes and for me this was another Gascogine moment. I was in a bar in Manchester. I’d had a couple of beers and in my happy state I remember thinking that we were about to sweep all before us in this tournament – there was no stopping us. But at the end of the game we had lost 3-2, and despite a win over Germany, another 3-2 defeat against Romania saw us crash out at the group stage once more. Disaster.
Korea/Japan ’02, Euro ’04: The ‘golden’ generation emerges
As the 2002 World Cup approached, talk began to emerge of an English golden generation: David Beckham, Gary Neville, Paul Scholes, Steven Gerrard, Rio Ferdinand, Frank Lampard, Michael Owen, Ashley Cole, Owen Hargreaves. Much of this was fuelled by our famous 5-1 hammering of Germany, in Germany, during the qualifying stages of the 2002 World Cup in 2001. Owen bagged a hat trick in that game, while Gerrard and Heskey both added goals. Like many other fans, I started to hope for something big. We were managed by Sven-Goran Eriksson, so clearly now we had the tactical nous.
But it didn’t go quite as planned. Gerrard and Neville missed the tournament through injury, while Beckham’s fitness was in question. We edged our way through the group stage with a satisfying win over Argentina, beat Denmark 3-0 in the second round and then faced Brazil in the quarterfinals. Cue more disappointment. We started well when Owen put us in front, but when their star player Ronaldinho lobbed David Seaman from 40 yards out to make it 2-1 to Brazil, the writing was once again on the wall. Brazil of course went on to win it.
In 2004 the Euros rolled around again, and this time we had much more of complete golden generation to take with us to Portugal, with only Rio Ferdinand missing out due to a ban for missing a drugs test. We were drawn in a tricky group, with France, Croatia and Switzerland. The French game was an early test. I watched the game with a load of French fans at university. We went 1-0 courtesy of a Frank Lampard strike and could have increased the lead but David Beckham missed a penalty. The 90 minutes elapsed, and I could not believe what I saw next. We gave away a free kick and Zidane put it in the back of the net. We’d drawn 1-1, given it away right at the death. Actually, we hadn’t. We ended up doing something much worse. With our heads in disarray, Gerrard half hit a back pass that was latched on to by Thierry Henry. Our goalkeeper, David James, brought Henry down and Zidane scored the winner from the spot kick. The French crowd in the bar went wild. I remember I wanted to punch someone I was that frustrated.
But we were far from out, and we recorded two wins in our next two games to finish second in the group. Next up, the hosts Portugal in the quarterfinal, our tormentors from Euro 2000. We went into the lead and held out until the 83rd minute, when they struck back to send the tie into extra time, where they struck again only for Lampard to even things up. It was penalties again and again we weren’t up to it, crashing out 6-5.
Germany ’06: When gold fails to glitter
The 2006 World Cup in Germany was supposed to be ‘the one’ in the sense that all of our so-called golden generation (bar Scholes, who had retired from international football) were available for selection and all were in the primes of their careers. We had a straight forward group (as far as straight forward groups go) against Paraguay, Trinidad and Tobago, and Sweden.
I remember being well up for this World Cup. I was in the US for the group games, so I was forced to watch them alone in the mornings, which was a sobering experience in itself. However, the actual quality of the performances made things even more sobering. We edged past minnows Paraguay and Trinidad 1-0 and 2-0 respectively, and drew with Sweden 2-2. We topped the group, but where was our golden generation? The knockout rounds, I thought, we’ll come good in the knockout rounds.
My own experience of supporting England is probably no different to that of any other fan. One word describes it: Traumatic.
We were handed the easiest of second round draws against Ecuador. This was a chance to rack up some goals and get the confidence flowing. In turned out to be another nervy performance, with us edging past our opponents 1-0. Then, in the quarterfinals, we faced Portugal, our tormentors of 2000 and 2004. Once again, it was a torturous affair. The performance I was expecting failed to materialize and Wayne Rooney was sent off in the 62nd minute for a stamp on a Portuguese defender. The odds were against us then, but even so we held out to the end once again, only to be defeated on penalties, once again.
This was a watershed moment for me. Since 2002 I felt as if we had been building to this World Cup, where we would at least see a semifinal or final berth. Instead, there was nothing but abjectness and disconsolation in 2006. The golden generation had stepped up to the plate but had fallen short – way, way short – of everyone’s hyped-up expectations. The collective experience of failure of the golden generation in 2002, 2004 and now 2006 had finally caught up with it. Since that loss to Portugal, I have never again built up any hope of England doing anything substantial in a serious tournament, because no matter which ‘world class’ players wear the shirt, those hopes are always dashed.
Euro ’08: Back into the wilderness
As our previous manager Sven Goran-Eriksson had stepped down, Steve Mclaren stepped into the breach. Cue another disaster. The trauma of the last few years was not an overnight thing and suddenly playing for England seemed to become a heavy burden for our players (many of whom were at the top of the European game) instead of a source of pride.
We failed to qualify for the tournament. In fairness, with the likes of Croatia and Russia we had a tricky group. We lost to them away from home, but we also drew with the likes of Macedonia at home. The real killer blow though, came in the final qualifying match at home against Croatia – a match that we had to win to qualify for the tournament. It was an abysmal night. Having gone 2-0 down, we brought it back to 2-2, only to let another in to lose the match and our hopes of qualification. The nature of the defeat was horrific. Our goalkeeper, Scott Carson, endured a harrowing night; the first goal saw him let a hopeful long-range effort slip through his fingers. The third was similar; another long range effort going right through him. The memories from the night itself tell the story – England fans trudging to and away from the game in the rain, the rain soaked pitch quickly turning into Carson’s and England’s nightmare, McClaren standing there, watching his team unfold with umbrella in hand. It was pathetic.
On this showing, it was probably better that we didn’t qualify, given the heart ache that we would have no doubt experienced at the tournament. And that is a sorry thing to say.
South Africa 2010: Where do we go from here?
The inquiry after 2008 resulted in England getting one of the best managers in he game: Fabio Capello. In fairness we had an excellent qualifying campaign for the 2010 World Cup. With Ukraine, Belarus and Croatia (the latest country to join our tormentors’ club, along with Germany and Portugal) once again our group was tricky, but we navigated it with flying colours and everything Capello touched turned to gold. The stand out results were a 4-1 away win against Croatia, an exorcism of sorts for our recent troubles against that side. Theo Walcott scored a hat trick and was christened the new English sensation. He played brilliantly but with Owen and Rooney I’d seen it before; flashes of brilliance but nothing on the big occasion – so I was still skeptical. We also battered the Croats at home 5-1 and our only blip was a 1-0 defeat away against the Ukraine.
By the time the tournament came around the squad hadn’t really changed that much but had some fresh faces in Aaron Lennon and James Milner. Tellingly, Theo Walcott was left out by Capello. It was a decision the Italian would come to regret.
On paper we had an easy group, with the USA, Slovenia and Algeria. In fact, it was probably one of the easiest groups I’d ever seen. But this time, I was ready not to be disappointed. I’d seen this all before – the famous ‘on paper there’s no contest’ comment used by many to illustrate the quality of England’s players against so-called inferior opposition. I knew the reality; these were teams with nothing lose – were exactly the kind of teams that could us serious damage.
And I was almost right. It was a shocking group stage, with draws with the USA and Algeria and a 1-0 win against Slovenia. The England fans booed the team off the pitch after the draw against Algeria, with Rooney mocking them in front of a camera on the pitch: “Its nice to see your home fans boo you,” he said. It seemed that everything; quality of performance, expectations, morale, were at an all time low.
The were also complaints from the players about the Capello ‘boot camp’ at the World Cup, not allowing them to see girlfriends and wives and being shut away at their training headquarters without really being able to enjoy the experience of a tournament.
Predictably we faced the Germans in the second round and we were found out for the terrible side that we were. We were issued out heaviest World Cup defeat, going down to the Germans 4-1 in a match that showed just how bad and stagnant we had become. We went 2-0 down and then pulled a goal back. Then, a Lampard shot crossed the line but was disallowed. It could have changed things, but in reality Germany were the much better team and proved it by scoring two more in the second half. I looked at our players; it was the same old, same old. Terry, Ashley Cole, Lampard, Gerrard, Rooney, Joe Cole. Then you looked at the freshness of the German side in terms of Mesut Ozil, Thomas Muller, Sami Khedira and Jerome Boateng – all in their early 20s. The contrast could not have been sharper. We were an aging team and not only that, we were the worst kind of aging team. We were an aging team built not on past glories but on past failures and on over-hyped reputations that had always promised much but had never, ever delivered.
Euro 2012: A comedy to cap them all?
And so we find ourselves on the cusp of our next great European adventure, which will take place in the Ukraine and Poland this summer. We certainly have no easy game in the group stage, having to face France, Ukraine and Sweden. You ask the inevitable question: Can England win it? And then you look at Spain, the Netherlands and Germany and you realize that once again it is a complete pipe dream.
Preparation for the tournament has been a joke. First off, after having qualified under Fabio Capello we are now managerless after the Italian resigned in protest over the decision of the FA to strip John Terry of the captaincy due to an impending court case.
Whichever way you look, it’s a disaster. First off, in John Terry, we had a captain of the English national team that was facing a trial in the summer due to the alleged racist abuse of Anton Ferdinand, who happens to be the brother of Rio Ferdinand, Terry partner at the heart of England’s central defence. Its worth mentioning that Terry had already lost the captaincy in 2010 due to allegations involving his private life and an affair with another player’s partner. So there’s the embarrassment of Terry facing these accusations, and then there’s the morale issue, and how the charges affect Rio Ferdinand – the brother of whom is accusing Terry of racist abuse – and by association the English defence.
Then we have the resignation of Capello. The Italian felt that the FA had undermined him in choosing to strip Terry of the captaincy, and thought that Terry should keep the armband until his fate was decided in court. At any rate, Capello has gone and now two months before a major tournament we have no-one in place. You really could not write a better script if you tried.
We are England, the home of football. We have no permanent manager and no permanent captain. We wear our shirts with pride and have such a rich footballing tradition, even though we have only ever won one major tournament – and that was 46 years ago. We may not be able to play tiki-tika vis-vis Xavi, Iniesta et al, but we are as determined as anyone, as our numerous penalty shootout capitulations suggest.
We are the Three Lions, and at Euro 2012, you will hear our squeal.∗