Antoine Griezmann doing that chicken dance in front of the Atletico supporters at the Emirates Stadium. Obafemi Martins doing a backflip in front of a blue wall of Birmingham supporters at Wembley. The one-two punch of Eto’o and Beletti in the Stade d’ France, the year that Arsenal had the record for the most minutes played without conceding a goal in the Champions League. As an Arsenal supporter I’ve suffered my share of crushing blows and it’s always the hope that kills.
I’m not going to gloat, I picked England to win the World Cup because I thought that they had the right mix of talent (more on why that was wrong in a minute). And I’m not here to tell you that you shouldn’t have hope or mediate your expectations. I will just give my commiserations. I can imagine exactly what you’re feeling right now.
Being a sports fan is a complex mixture of fantasy and reality. Like being a Republican or a Democrat, or even just being an American or a Brit, or any time that you’re rooting for “a side”.
When the tournament kicked off there was a distinct sense of “realism” around this England team. There were no memes about Vindaloo, and I didn’t even know the song “It’s coming home” existed. If there were hopeful England supporters they were well quieted by the “realists” in the bunch. The ones who were saying that we should all lower our expectations. That getting out of the group stage would be an achievement.
The pragmatic approach turned out to be the whole England cause. Everything from the way that this team was constructed, with zero ball-playing midfielders, to the long outlet passes to speedy wide players, who were instructed to get the crosses in to Kane, was all about pragmatism. Even losing to Belgium in the final day of the group stage was a win for pragmatic English football because it meant that they got the easy route to the final.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to turn this into a think-piece about “British pragmatism” or “stiff upper lips” because that’s not what happened. Instead, what this World Cup delivered to England was a brief, overwhelming, fantasy and unity. And ironically, it was the realism which made the fantasy so powerful.
We live in crazy times here in the USA and in Great Britain. It feels like half the population believes one thing and the other half believes the exact opposite. And these are deeply held, powerful beliefs, that don’t like to talk to each other. My sister is a Trump supporter and I dread having conversations with her about the homeless or whatever topic she brings up at family gatherings. I’ve come to the point where I just let her say what she wants and I move on with my life.
I know that not everyone in England was behind England in this World Cup, but the support was huge and cut across political and ideological lines. Brexiters were hugging Remainers; Arsenal supporters were cheering on Spurs players; and everyone (it seems) was throwing beer into the air all over England when Kieran Trippier scored against Croatia. In a world where everyone is so at odds with anyone that they disagree with, it was kind of a nice moment to see some unity.
Humans crave this connection. That’s why we join clubs. And here was something simple to get behind. Something practical to cheer for that wasn’t about something powerful and divisive but rather something nice and unifying. It was a brief respite from the crazy world of Brexit, me too, Trump, North Korea, Russian interference, migration, and terrorism.
At its best, that’s what football can deliver. Even in defeat.
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