At 5pm on Sunday afternoon, I think the overwhelming feeling amongst Scots was one of relief.
There has been a lot in the news since the start of the World Cup about this tournament being the first time that Scottish fans could bring themselves to at least remain neutral when England were playing. After all, the majority of us probably focus more on club football down south than in our own country, which means we spend a lot of time cheering and admiring the players who make up the England team. As someone who has spent a lot of time and energy to go and watch Rooney, Gerrard, Lampard etc in the flesh, I'm no exception.
Besides, it becomes a lot harder to hate a football team when they look as poor as England did at times during the World Cup - the Algeria game in particular, where they couldn't have looked less up for it if they had sent out eleven wheelie bins instead of players (or ten wheelie bins plus Emile Heskey - that's roughly the same). Yes, I laughed like a drain during Rob Green's little "moment" - but I think half the world was as well.
But then they had to go and draw Germany in the last sixteen. Even up here, all the Three Lions crap reached fever pitch, with even the Scottish edition of the Sun running a front page story about Germany players being scared by three lions at a Safari Park. Pre-kickoff, the BBC rolled out an "England expects" montage more cheesy and tacky than a Rocky film. I started having flashbacks to Euro 96, and the similar dross before the semi-final; I suspect my father and his generation were having similar thoughts about 1966 itself. The fact is, had England won yesterday, it would have been absolutely unbearable until someone finally beat them, or, worse, they won the damn thing.
I'm not saying every English fan would be unbearable. Most have been depressingly realistic about their side's performances, and are not going to get swept along in an orgy of St. George's crosses, Knights Templar outfits and crass war references. But ultimately I wanted England to lose so that it would shut up the damn papers, the damn TV, and that minority of idiots who support England by booing national anthems - no anthem had been booed at this World Cup before the German anthem was played yesterday - and wear Prussian World War I helmets. They may be a minority, but they are a loud minority, and we simply couldn't risk them getting louder.
Of course, apart from the ten minute periods either side of half time, Germany were always going to win - though goodness knows what might have transpired had Frank Lampard's "goal" been given (not an argument for video technology - it was so far in that it shouldn't have been needed). Karmic retribution for 1966, huh? But England were annihilated, in the same way Germany ripped Australia to shreds. To stop the wonderful Mesut Ozil (the player of the tournament so far, for me), you need someone sitting in front of the back line in the space he occupies. Gareth Barry doesn't do that. So Ozil kept getting the ball in shedloads of space, drawing the defenders miles out of position and leaving acres for the likes of Thomas Muller to exploit. German teams are supposed to grind out wins with ruthless efficiency, not with exquisite one-touch attacking play. Just as English sides are supposed to exhibit a Roy Of The Rovers, never-say-die attitude, rather than wilting as soon as the going gets tough.
But anyway, this World Cup was always going to be a chance to see if I (and the rest of my nation) had grown up, if I had moved on from the tears I shed at Gary McAllister's missed penalty at Euro 96 (come on, I was only 12 and it seemed like the most unfair thing in the world), from the cries of joy I shouted at Ronaldinho's free kick beating Seaman in 2002, or Rooney seeing red against Portugal in 2006. Seems the chip on the shoulder is still there, huh?
Well, maybe in four years time I could cope with an England World Cup win. But not yet. Not yet. Sorry.
L.
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