INTERNATIONAL football used to be good.
There were times when it wasn’t even that bad being a bit of an England fan. It’s a shame that a once-integral part of the football calendar, with an altogether different flavour is deemed so boring; so much of an inconvenience.
In the modern era, with as many as four or five fortnight-long breaks from the nuts and bolts of domestic and European matches that define our season, these “international breaks” are no more than a massive pain in the backside for football supporters with club fortunes exclusively at heart.
This year more than ever, the season has struggled for momentum, perhaps because of Liverpool’s Premier League travails, but also in no small part to these artificial bumps in the calendar.
Read: Get A Football Fix This Easter That Doesn’t Involve Roy Hodgson
A two-week gap in normal activity is also a bit of a nightmare for Liverpool FC columnists; without recourse to transfer speculation that is the go-to content of some journalists during a slow news week.
It is no wonder that over recent days we’ve seen both Jordan Henderson and Daniel Sturridge at the centre of possible Anfield departure stories.
There may or may not be some truth and validity in these accounts but they would have been less likely to break between the recent double header against Manchester United.
But fans need their fix in this era of endless breaking news, even when it is just rumour or speculation. News from the international arena, and especially the England camp, will not suffice.
It would be easy to blame Roy Hodgson. I normally do — even when my tea’s gone cold or a shirt hasn’t been ironed.
But as much as arl Hodgie gets it (and he will again later) there’s more to the declining interest in international football than the excruciating pain of watching a man with a mouthful of marbles get his lips round the lyrics of God Save the Queen.
Many of us will have been introduced to football by the magic of a World Cup. An older generation transfixed by 1966 and all that, or the amazing birth of football in colour via Mexico 1970.
For younger fans perhaps Maradona’s conjuring in 1986 or the balletic Zinedine Zidane in 1998 inspired the first kick of a ball or desire to attend a local match.
Maybe the flags of the Italian Ultras and classic stadium architecture of Italia 90 still evoke memories, before Gazza’s tears brought footie to the masses and fucked it up for the rest of us…
It might be my age, but even a World Cup doesn’t enchant the way it once did. We already know all the players off the telly — another nauseating by-product of the UEFA Champions League and its wall-to-wall coverage of Europe’s best players as well as Africa and South Americas’ finest.
Mystique went out the window years ago.
It is ironic that a samey Champions League, having simultaneously affected the novelty of international competition and the kudos of our own domestic cups, now has its own format up for review as UEFA try to balance its competitive edge with the power brokered by the biggest European clubs.
The 2014 World Cup in Brazil briefly reminded us of the tournament’s old appeal, most notably through the colour offered by fans, but also from the sense of nostalgia for Brazil’s past and the fascination surrounding the host nation laying the ghost of their 1950 humbling by Uruguay at the Maracana.
As if to underline the loss of modern romance, Brazil’s 7-1 thrashing by Germany in the semi-final brought enough ghouls to last another half a century.
But it’s the nature and scheduling of the World Cup and European Championship qualifiers that have interfered most with our weekends.
Reaching the finals for the established nations is no more than routine. It seems bizarre that a round of qualifying mismatches stretched out over 18 months are required to present more or less the same candidates to a bloated tournament proper.
In fact, the word “Finals” has become a misnomer for an event welcoming 32 nations, only a handful of whom could be considered elite, including England.
In the days of the old “Eastern Bloc”, and before the break-up of former Yugoslavia, European Qualifiers (for the European Championship and World Cup) were tasty affairs.
International teams from behind the “Iron Curtain”, like those who appeared at Anfield in the European ties of the 70s and 80s, were equally skilled in technique and the dark arts of the game. I’m unsure where the term “crack” to describe their talent and durability came from, but crack they were.
Without knowing the implications of saying this: (I don’t know if Putin reads my column) — it was probably to do with the drugs they were on.
England’s qualifiers in the days of Don Revie, Ron Greenwood and Bobby Robson were played exclusively in midweek — there was none of this weekend-break nonsense and players returned for club duty with no disruption.
Italy was Europe’s anomaly with the Azzurri playing at weekends; their FA recognising donkeys years ago the importance of a week’s rest before critical matches.
The old Wembley, an amphitheatre defined by its acoustics, with England against opposition who mustered an actual threat, felt like it was staging a real football match; instead of a stage-managed beaut-fest with a brass band, plastic people and thousands of empty padded seats.
England teams too good to see the likes of Liverpool’s Tommy Smith or Jimmy Case capped, struggled to qualify for tournaments, missing out altogether on the World Cups of 1974 and 1978.
We felt pain for Ray Clemence, for Emlyn Hughes, even for Kevin Keegan before he sought a “new challenge” swathed in Deutschmarks.
Read: Kevin Keegan – unsung hero?
Posters adorned walls, without embarrassment, of players who played for “Liverpool and England”.
It could be argued that Liverpool fans railed against the national team once and for all, after Michael Owen became England property courtesy of his goal in St Etienne against Argentina in 1998.
Almost every international match used to mean something; more frequently with a competitive edge that all football needs to make it a spectacle.
Contrast that to Hodgson’s England chugging through Group 10 to reach the upcoming Euros. I lost track of the crap tey were up against at one stage and if pressed now, the best I could come up with is Sloveneggrodonia. I’m sure we played them 10 times home and away.
Back in the day, even matches outside major competition — today’s “friendlies” — carried much greater prestige and were billed seriously in the TV listings as “International Football”.
As far back as 1953, Hungary’s Magical Magyars’ Wembley destruction of England in a one-off game demanded the first “root and branch” investigation into the quality of English football, and there was similar soul searching after a 2-0 home defeat to Holland in 1977.
To conclude, fans just cared more about the fortunes of the national team more in previous eras.
For Liverpool fans, although political and cultural factors determine “We’re not English, We are Scouse” is a comfortable mantra for many Scousers, it hasn’t always been thus. Euro 96, when England staged its only tournament since 1966, and Italia 90 had people on the streets — even in Liverpool.
The modern England team though struggles for any identity and for Liverpudlians even the involvement of Jordan Henderson, Adam Lallana and Nathaniel Clyne makes no odds.
Some might argue these lads couldn’t be less Scouse if they tried and that doesn’t help. If that’s not bad enough, Jamie Vardy once played for Halifax. You don’t get more wool than that.
Even the England support of the 1980s had notoriety for the prospect of drinking and violence on foreign fields and made England a harder-edged, arguably more attractive proposition for those who considered following them back then.
If John Barnes’ New Order, World in Motion rap in the post acid-house period had a wider, softer appeal and made England briefly cool again in 1990, then it seems such glitz has now been lost forever.
The stock of the national team and international football is probably at an all-time low in these parts. England play Germany tomorrow and no-one is arsed.
It shouldn’t be this way. Every now and then, I forget myself and I think of the Euros and the summer.
I have a cold lager to hand; maybe a beer garden or a barbecue springs to mind.
In my head, I take a sip of my beer and a butterfly floats past.
Then Hodgie appears and I’m back in a dark room.
Didn’t even realise it was Germany they were playing. Does anyone know whether Emre Can gets run outs for the senior side? Might watch if so.
Absolute Lol.
Arise Sir Hodgson
I’m Indian; so if India even qualifies for the World Cup, it’ll mean far more to me than Liverpool winning the league.
Agreed about the loss of mystique – as a 10 year old the 82 Brazil team seemed like they were from another….Planet..
Also, the lessening of some traditional rivalries in Europe gives less of an edge (if I can mention it, this is probably due to the passing of time since the Wars..both WW2 and Cold).
The “Balkanization” of the former USSR, Yugoslavia and Czech has also lead to a weakening of quality due to the increased quanity from the Old East – those 3 were perennial dark horses and did lift European Champs and often reached finals and semis. Much less so now, since the initial blitz from Czech Republic in 96 and Croatia in 98 the only once since to trouble the scorers was I think Russia at 08 Euros.
I found this really thought provoking and I’ve just spent 10 mins thinking about it.
John wrote a piece a few years ago about why we don’t follow England nowadays and I remember thinking it was to do with me seeing England as a thing Cockneys followed and how I couldn’t support a team who sang a national anthem that celebrates our colonial past.
I’ve just realised this has put another slant on it. I think it’s the World Cup itself that I fell out of love with as well as England. My first footballing memory is watching the 1978 World Cup final (I’ve no recollection of Liverpool winning the 78 European Cup). My next memory is the 79 Fa Cup final. By 1980 I was Liverpool mad and going to all the games. If you ask me about any Fa Cup Final I can recall the details of the 1980 one better than any. I can’t even remember last years although I remember the semi at Wembley and how livid I was.
So, by 1982 I was absolutely loving it. I remember being in Spain when it was on and coming home with a suitcase full of items of that orange mascot thing and Sport Billy stuff. It’s still my favourite World Cup. I can still name that Brazil team yet I didn’t know any of them beforehand. Paulo Rossi is a name i’ll never forget too. I can still sing every word of ‘This time’ the England World Cup song but actually, I friggin loved ‘We have a dream’ the Scotland one and played it over and over. In hindsight they were both shite beyond words.
By 86 I was a massive England fan and used to have dreams about murdering Maradonna. In 1990 my patriotism was at an all time high, I can remember everything about the night we beat Cameroon and I can remember everything about the night we got knocked out. When Waddle missed the pen some prick in front of me through his glass over his shoulder and the lads it hit assumed it was me and all hell broke loose because both their group and ours numbered around 20 each. I think the truth was everyone was so angry about losing it seemed like a good idea. About a week later 13 of us went travelling around Europe and I remember in Spain we hijacked a stage at a campsite that had entertainment on and sang ‘World in Motion’ like patriotic thugs. It was the last act of patriotism I can remember. I was expanding my mind at the time and I grew to despise England and everything it stood for not long after.
By 94 I was living in India for a few years and didn’t watch any of the World Cup. My only memory of sport in those years was 200 people crowded around a black and white portable in the street watching a one day match between India and Pakistan. In 98 I was living in Paris so got quite involved in the tournament itself as I was making money from the fans but only watched England v Scotland (on tv). 2002 I was back in England and England v Brazil was the morning after my birthday and we all arranged to go out that night and stay up for it. I remember having a good night and not being bothered about the result. I’ve absolutely no recollection of 2006 and the Sunday when Germany beat us in 2010 I’d just been moved to a really dodgy wing in Altcourse an hour before kick off and I was watching my back more than the match. I was actually supporting Spain that year. 2014 was a joke as far as England were concerned and they fully lived up to what by then were my expectations.
So, to conclude, for the World Cup the 80’s up to 1990 was my time but I’d guess I loved those World Cups because of my age. I’m too cynical to enjoy the World Cup again. Whether that’s down to feeling no affinity with England and not having a vested interest, so to speak, or because I despise FIFA and therefore their showcase or whether I’ve outgrown the mystique of it all I don’t know and after typing all that don’t actually care. Maybe it’s football that’s changed. We’ll never see a team like Brazil 82 again but then in saying that, I can’t get enough of the modern day Prem. I think that’s just my love of Liverpool though. I don’t watch FA cup finals we’re not in. I don’t even watch Champions League finals. Even football commentary is shit now. Everything about football seems to be run by dickheads. The bottom line is I’m old and miserable and only Liverpool makes me feel alive. I will watch the Euro’s and World Cup because it’s on in the summer when there’s no other football but neither will grip me. It’s just that they’re on.
Over time, TV overkill has killed the mystique.
Every kid of the day saw live football as a real treat, something special, exciting.
Being able to see a Cruyff was inspiring
We remember how great he was and how great the team was.
But once the game finished that was it, game over indeed
The World Cup was our one of very few chances to see the best play in a full game. No wall to wall analysis. Unless you call three blokes in jumpers saying how good he was.
Thanks for that video of Maradona, I’ve watched it several times, it makes me laugh and actually nearly brought a tear, he’s not even aware his being filmed and hasn’t bothered to tie his laces yet.
Just astounding, bordering on supernatural control
Roy Hodgson is Manager of England.Just let that sink in for a moment.
Roy Hodgson.The biggest fraud in the history of football.
He’s got connections.His methods of mediocre performances translate from every corner of the globe according to him.
But he has the benefit of an old Public School Boys network..A network that infiltrates every thread of our society.
Roy Hodgson is the England Manager.Guess who got him there?
Good Luck Roy.You’ll probably need it when push comes to shove.
I couldn’t care less!
Great game tonight. Open, free running full of youthful spirit. Obviously Germany only turned up out of a contractual obligation (or that’s what people will say as they lost!) and it all means nothing anyway. Tonight we saw five well taken goals, and plenty of potential from England. Just be a pity when Rooney gets picked for the finals squad. Ah well.
Being born in Liverpool, I personally have no connection with England. Not the football team or the country. I consider myself “Scouse, not English”.
Well that sentiment is actually kind of stupid, if England (the UK) comes under attack, you will fight and you may die defending the country, just as the rest of the country would do you for you.
Stop this fucking nonsense and grow up. Stop pendling the victims theme, it’s tiresome.
Liverpool had 4 players playing for England last night, 3 plus Sturridge on the bench, get behind them, get behind your countrymen
Let me explain this in simply, because you are definitely ignorant, and in all likelihood a fucking Nimrod.
My mother was Irish. My father was half welsh half Spanish. I was born in a city with a heavy Irish influence possibly because it is a port on the Irish Sea. My mother only relocated 20 miles or so from Wales. So throw in the political climate I grew up in, why the fuck would I consider the likes of you my Country men? You beaut. And that goes for the other fucking imbecile who replied.
Errata:My father relocated from Wales.
Mushroomscouser275gts I think your comments is narrow minded and pathetic. I have to agree with Tonyh – grow up!!! So being scouse and not giving a rats ar$e about the rest of the country. I wonder what’s your take on Liverpool being bombed to pieces in case the rest of England chose not given a rats ar$e ?
The country didn’t give a rat’s arse about the city in the 80’s and likely doesn’t now. I wouldn’t expect anything from anyone English unless there was profit in it if Liverpool was bombed to pieces. We would probably need to rebuild with EU grants and initiatives. So fuck off with your English flag shite.