Last week I watched a clip of Ian Wright explaining why it meant so much to him, as a black former player, that Jude Bellingham is uninhibited about revelling in his achievements. In the past, he said, some black players had been criticised for being too cocky, as though they’d forgotten their place. So he was pleased that it is now completely acceptable for a black player to strut around with a bit of swagger.
I can see his point, but I also thought: why do you have to racialise this remarkable young player? Can’t we just celebrate him as an Englishman? England’s progress in the World Cup is one of those moments in which we’re supposed to set our differences aside and come together. Shoehorning identity politics into football is precisely why I disliked the sermonising Gareth Southgate and much prefer the goofy, apolitical Thomas Tuchel.
But I’m going to commit a similar faux pas and say something divisive. I watched England beat Norway in the garden of a crowded pub in Chiswick and felt there was something a bit fake about the beer-throwing and cheering when Bellingham scored. The crowd was young and gave off a privately educated vibe, and it was as if they were LARPing at being England fans. ‘Plastics’, as we proper supporters call them.
I’m not saying this because they were middle–class – which would be too hypocritical even for me. But there was something performative about their enthusiasm. How many of them had, like me, travelled thousands of miles to see England draw 0-0 in a World Cup qualifier? How many of them had braved a mob of rioting North Africans to see England beat Tunisia in Marseille, as I had? I felt a bit as I did when QPR played Derby in the play-off final in 2014. Looking around at the 40,000 Hoops fans filling one half of Wembley stadium, I thought: ‘Where have you been for the past ten years?’
At popular away games, such as FA Cup matches against Premier League clubs, this problem doesn’t arise, because QPR’s seat allocation is reserved for those with sufficient ‘loyalty points’, which you accumulate by buying tickets to away fixtures. The less glamorous and further away the ground, the more points you get. Should a similar system be introduced at beer gardens and fan parks when England are playing, with only those who’ve turned up to see friendlies and UEFA Nations League games being admitted? Or maybe a simpler test: ‘Recite the words to Ten German Bombers or you’re not coming in.’ That would certainly please curmudgeonly old gits like me, but would go against the inclusive grain of the World Cup.
I expect some of my irritation is because I’m a QPR season ticket-holder. Loyal fans of ordinary clubs always look down their noses at supporters of the national team, who by definition only materialise every couple of years. That goes double for fans of unfashionable clubs who lose more often than they win. We resent the fact that these Johnny-come-latelies are enjoying a team making a successful cup run without having had to endure all those losses on a rainy Tuesday night. It’s an inverse snobbery born of misery, and sitting around in pubs at away games often reminds me of Monty Python’s ‘Four Yorkshiremen’ sketch, with fans competing to describe their worst experiences.
The crowd was young and gave off a privately educated vibe, and it was as if they were LARPing at being fans
There’s also the widespread prejudice among die-hard supporters that caring too much about England’s results is a little suspect. Yes, it’s nice when we win, but it scarcely matters in the grand scheme of things, which is how your club performs. Indeed, some fans don’t like it when their best players are called up, because there’s a risk they’ll get injured and won’t be available at the beginning of next season. The underlying assumption is that your support for a team is a zero-sum commodity, so being too enthusiastic about England inevitably means you care less about your own club, and that is where your true loyalties should lie. For some, getting excited about the national team is a sure sign you’re a ‘plastic’.
All this I know, and, as I say, my enjoyment of England’s victory over Norway was tainted by the chippy resentment I felt towards the other revellers. But at the same time I can’t help getting swept up by the national hysteria surrounding the tournament. I suppose I should be happy that the entire country now shares the same passion as me, short-lived though it is. At the time of writing we still have to play Argentina, but if we beat them I will be all in. I wouldn’t go as far as to say I would prefer England to win the World Cup than QPR to win the league, but it will be a close-run thing.
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