Did Football Finally Come Home This Summer?

As thousands of beer and tear soaked pubs emptied across England and the jubilant Croatian fans -who had just witnessed their team reach their first World Cup final - eventually filtered out into the Moscow night; the person in charge of the PA system at the Luzhniki Stadium captured the mood of the defiant England fans, still causing a din in Russia’s national stadium. It wasn’t ‘Three Lions 96’ – a song which has doubled up as a national anthem and standard greeting in the past two weeks – that was blasting out of the stadiums speakers, but another iconic song from that golden summer of 1996; ‘Don’t look back in Anger’ by Mancunian band Oasis.

An ‘utterly choked’ Gary Linekar was pitch side and captured the 10,000 England fans on video fighting back tears and belting out the cathartic lyrics within the otherwise empty stadium. Whoever the stadium DJ was encapsulated the mood perfectly; no regrets, no anger and look forward to a bright future. But there was a more ironic undertone to the use of the song - whether deliberately deployed or not – because too many times England supporters have looked back in anger at previous failings in tournaments.

Sven Goran Erikson’s complete refusal to adjust a system to suit his players in 2006, Steve McLaren (and his Umbrella’s) inability to navigate his way through an average European Championship qualifying group in 2007, the borefest of South Africa in 2010 under Fabio Capello where England’s midfield completely collapsed in Bloemfontaine against Germany, the debacle in Brazil in 2014 when England were out of the World Cup so quickly that the beer chuckers In Boxpark were still queuing to get their first round in and Iceland - oh Iceland- at Euro 2016. That night in Nice was the nadir for modern English football, where anger and apathy ruled the day and many decided that enough was enough. We’d had 50 years of hurt, but pain and sheer embarrassment are two contrasting emotions. 

A few short months later Sam Allardyce was tasked as the man to heal the wounds of the ill fated Roy Hodgson era and no quicker was he masqueraded in front of the worlds media, he was gone. Big Sam and his pint of wine were consigned to English footballs Room 101 of things we would rather eradicate from memory. And perhaps it was fitting that Allardyce was the last man to fill the England managers hot seat before the winds of change began to whisper. Not that Allardyce is a bad manager, his track record proves how good he is at overachieving with lesser clubs but he represents pretty much everything from English football that we would rather leave in the past. Arrogance, a sense of entitlement - anyone who heard his bizarre claim he should get the Real Madrid job would adhere to that- the willingness to try and bend the rules and a style of football that while effective; does not inspire and is the antithesis of how all elite clubs and countries now play the game. 

So who were the FA going to go for? Wenger? Pochetinno? Joachim Low perhaps? Gareth Southgate! Surely not Gareth Southgate, that nice bloke who once got Middlesbrough relegated?

I imagine most England fans, pundits and maybe even a few senior players reacted in that way when Southgate finally took the job and I will include myself in that. Southgate was meant to be an FA yes man; effectively a competition winner that may be lucky enough to navigate England through choppy waters in Russia, but would then be thrown onto the scrap heap of failure so the traditional root and branch review could then begin in earnest. We were wrong. So spectacularly wrong in fact that the initial derision at Southgate’s appointment seems like a strange, otherworldly dream. 

The reality is that Gareth Southgate has proven to be the bravest England manager in modern history. Yes, the qualifying campaign was pretty inauspicious, but Southgate himself briefed at the beginning of his tenure that his first priority was just to get the team to Russia and once that was achieved a proper long term plan would begin to evolve. In the friendlies against Brazil and Germany last autumn he made it clear that the systemEngland would implement in Russia would be 3-5-2 and having Steve Holland on board - who was Antonio Conte’s assistant during Chelsea’s Premier League winning campaign where they played three at the back 2016/17- certainly helped. Two 0-0 draws with a relatively inexperienced squad followed and it was refreshing to see an England manager try something a little bit different and have faith in some of the younger players rather than going back to the same old faces. In subsequent friendlies Kyle Walker was drafted in as a right centre back - not a call that the majority people would have made - which showed Southgate was prepared to take risks.

Senior professionals such as Joe Hart and Wayne Rooney were eventually ushered into the background with some semblance of dignity remaining, specialist striker coach Allan Russell and Psychologist Dr. Pippa Grange were drafted in to supplement the master plan for Russia and Southgate encouraged the players to be frank and honest with the media, the public but also themselves. 

However that would all count for nothing if England were to fail at another tournament. Another notch on a decaying, neglected bed post. But this time, from when the first whistle sounded in England’s opening game in Volgograd against Tunisia, this wasn’t the same old dreary football we had become accustomed to at major tournaments. It was bold, it was brave it was beatifically different. England were actually playing progressive, exciting football. It may have taken a late stooping Harry Kane header to see off their North African opponents, but already before then people were engaged, they were watching an England team attempting to throw off the shackles of the past and daring to be different.

A pummelling of Panama followed and then even a 1-0 loss between England and Belgiums reserve sides perversely seemed like a victory, as it meant England would enter the easier side of the draw after finishing second in Group G. Columbia were next in Moscow and finally - FINALLY - the tapestry of misery that England have experienced in penalty shootouts at World Cups finally had a positive illustration to add to it; England had won on penalties! Cue mad celebrations across the land; from Croydon too Croxteth, Manchester to Middlehurst, an outpouring of celebration and emotion not experienced following an England game since David Platts late winner against Belgium caused bedlam at Italia 90. 

Sweden were then swatted aside with alarming ease in a searing Saturday afternoon in Samara and all of a sudden a strange dream seemed like it was becoming a reality. England were in a World Cup semi final against Croatia, a technically sublime team yes, but one who had been pushed to penalties by Denmark and Russia in their two previous games and certainly not a side to be cowed by. 

England’s date with destiny started like a dream in Moscow and they monstered Croatia in an exhilarating first half. Kieran Trippier - surely England’s player of the tournament - curled a sublime free kick passed Daniel Subasic and subsequently Harry Kane and Jesse Lingard squandered golden chances to kill the game as a contest and render the second half to just one big party. England were in dreamland; blissful and overcome with happiness. But that is the problem with dreams isn’t it. One moment you are reaching a World Cup final, the next it’s 7am, the alarms gone off, it’s a Monday and you have to attend an emergency staff meeting about who took Daves Tuna salad out of the fridge on Friday.

As the clock ticked towards 68 minutes in Moscow Ivan Perisic stuck out a boot following a superb Sime Vrsaljko cross and all of a sudden reality began to dawn on England as this balmy summers evening progressed. Croatia nagged and probed; Perisic hit a post and then lifted a simple looking chance over Jordan Pickford’s gaping goal. England did recover some poise at the beginning of extra time, John Stone’s thumping header was cleared off the line by the excellent Vrsaljko. But then the killer the blow, a single second that seemed to last an eternity to play out. Perisic rose above a now wilting Trippier and Stones - who has proven he can be one of the worlds premier centre backs at this tournament - hesitated for a split second and Mario Mandzukic was there to pounce and reduce England’s dream to dust. Gareth Southgates side had nothing left to give but everything to be proud of.

The ride of a lifetime was now at an end but this was not a defeat to look back in anger on; far from it. Croatia had a little bit too much experience, a little bit too much a class, a little bit too much nous and that eventually told in this semi-final. There was not a gulf in quality but finite margins decided this tie and in elite sport that’s often what separates winners and the defeated. 

So football, this time, is not coming home. Or is it? The notion that football is merely about victory and that nothing else matters apart from winning is completely wrong. If that were the case everyone would support Real Madrid and lower league football would have been a phenomena of the prehistoric age.  Football is about the pain, the joy, the suffering, the ecstasy and the heartache; those emotions sometimes congregating together within a single 90 minute match. Football is about hugging random topless men when your team score, its about spending £5 on a pint then launching it into the air when the ball bulges the back of the net. Football is about feeling like you are in a dream then waking up in a nightmare. Football is an Eric Dier penalty, its an M&S waistcoat, it’s a maddening half naked Ross Kemp accentuating how much this all means to us, it’s hot summer afternoons in the sun and it’s falling asleep on your lunch break while suffering from a catastrophic hangover. Football is a monkey from friends dancing to a mid-nineties football song, it’s a raucous night out with friends, its bonding with strangers and it’s the feeling of unity between people that are so often divided. Football is the feeling that you finally have your football team back after years in the wilderness and constantly feeling let down. That is why football did come home (Just don’t tell Luka Modric).