Hurrah! The road to Rio. How could you not be excited by World Cup night at a packed Wembley?
Quite easily, of course. Fair do's to the FA, though, Not just lots of tickets for the family enclosure going cheap, or the discounted ones for Olympic volunteers. They put ordinary tickets up for sale that were way cheaper than Premier League clubs and only marginally more expensive than Southend United. It seems they've learnt all about demand and supply. Which probably means we're screwed over for Brazil and Scotland tickets. Ah well.
Not to worry, San Marino had an attraction all of its own. The worst side in the world according to Fifa rankings. They put England 5th, mind, so that doesn't say much. One win ever, though, and nearly 500 goals conceded in the past twenty years reveals its own story. A team that would struggle to beat Haringey & Waltham Devlopment. You had to love them.
It was the Gang of Four tonight, Chipper, Bri, Ed and I heading off to savour the England 'experience'. As we waited on the platform at the Bay, we heard a shout of "Robert! Move or we'll miss it." We looked across and saw someone who was part female, part Jeremy Kyle guest, chiding this old fella as he shuffled down the stairs.
When he got there, he leaned over the platform, looking at the rails, it seemed, longingly. "Suicide is painless", I began to sing. As our train came in, we all held our breath for a second. We did think he actually might try to jump. He didn't. But the day was young.
We hit Wembley early. It meant we had first dibs on the crappy souvenir stalls from Wembley Park up to the stadium. None of us wanted any England stuff. We all wanted a San Marino scarf. Did any of them sell one? Did they f ...or crying out loud, no. Plenty of those awful half and half scarves. F*** it. You either support one team or the other. We were up for the minnows tonight.
Chastened slightly, we slunk off for a curry. Four meals, side orders, and sets of drinks later, we let Bri sort out the bill. We feared the worst. But at £26 for the lot of us, there was, unusually, one giant f*** up in our favour. Oh yes. Things were looking up.
After a brief visit to the 'Wembley Store', which is essentially Sports Direct but a bit more expensive, we strolled to our seats, not particularly interested in the Beano they had for sale. Well, I might have been, but not seven months out of date.
The seats, these days, thankfully have plenty of leg room and there's a decent view whatever part of the ground you're in. Well worth that £750m. And if you sit around long enough, you get your mug up on one of their big screens.
Me? I was cracking a Jimmy Saville joke about his cigars and Monica Lewinsky's youth, and not paying the blindest bit of attention, when Chipper said we were on. At that point he said "I'm off for a dump." We were the only two all night who didn't dance or jump like dicks trying to get on it. Which was perhaps why we stood out.
There was a decent cross section of people, too, as it filled out. I suppose you could say it was the multi-cultualism utopia. Different skin colours, plenty of women and kids, and even some oldie shaven headed blokes in Stone Island, thinking it was still 1980. They began the night sneering and behaving aggressively but stopped after about five minutes when they realised nobody actually gave a toss.
Then they arrived. The four gentlemen of Mong-olia. England shirts with Rooney on the back. Cheering and clapping when Man U players names were announced. Gazing vacantly into space for all the others. Either support the team or don't f*****g bother. But don't be dicks and wear an England shirt, but just support your own players. They, of course, had accents more Southern than an extra on Eastenders.
No matter. We were here to give support to our Serie D friends from San Marino. Chipper and I sung their national anthem with gusto. Our own words, admittedly, but I'm sure they appreciated the gesture. I'm not sure Theo Walcott did when their keeper clattered him a couple of minutes in. The last time I saw someone wiped out like that by an Italian he was swinging from a lamp post.
We waited for the inevitable slaughter. And waited. And waited. 20 minutes became 25. Then 30. Inside my pocket was a betting slip. 125/1 on a 1-0 win to San Marino. England go forward and miss. The Man U collective in front celebrate then ask why the goal was disallowed. Despite the replay showing the ball going wide. I began to believe.
Bastard stupid thing to do, that. Once you start believing you know it'll end in tears. The keeper wipes out another Englishman. Obvious penalty. An immediate yellow card. As the ref puts his card back into his pocket the boys in front chant "Off! Off! Off! Off!", presumably because a Man U player was fouled. Rooney slots the ball home and they cheer, shouting that he's a United player.
A couple of minutes later and the Mongolians are at it again. Lovely finish by Danny Welbeck, mind. Proving that back heel in the Euro's was no fluke. Half time and England lead against the worst international side I've ever seen 2-0. Mediocre at best.
20 years or so ago it was the same story. Poor performance, leading by a couple of goals. Back then, though, there were no Sky Boys in the crowd. The majority had minds of their own, then, and weren't obsessed with how 'their' players did. They were concerned about the team and let them know that they were awful. Today, though, it seemed the crowd were happy with 2-0, so long as they got their face on the tv or stadium screen.
The second half was no better. The San Marino goalkeeper obviously felt the handball rule applied to him as well. They couldn't take a throw-in properly, nor could they pass in a straight line. Yet England never looked remotely like scaring them for a long spell. Rooney and Welback then came up with another double with around 20 minutes left. The pseudo Mancs rejoiced.
Then the piece de resistance. Oxlade Chamberlain gets his first World Cup goal with a quarter of an hour left. Upon seeing a non Man U player score, they refuse to clap or celebrate and simply leave. "We've not paid good money to clap that." the oldest of the them says as they make their way out. F*** off back to Sky+, boys. You're not wanted.
The rest of the game is played out comfortably by San Marino. During the days of Taylor and McMenemy, the team were roundly jeered, as each awful minute passed. Tonight, though, some were celebrating as if it was Argentina we'd just played. In a semi-final. Perhaps it's just me being cynical, but England were bloody awful.
Chipper and I meet up with Bri and Ed and their verdict was the same. England were shite, and they couldn't understand why everyone around them were cheering such a poor performance. That's Sky for you. Turned footballers into celebrities and so people have come just to see them just to say they've seen them. Football is secondary to them.
The curry was great, and it was good to see such a mix of people following England. I went when it used to be a frightening experience, even at Wembley, and I'm damn pleased it's not like that now. But there's such a lack of love of the game itself, a lack of knowledge in so many people, it's diluted things far too much. Perhaps next time they should put fish on the seats, instead of laminated flags, and let the crowd eat them after 90 minutes of mindless happy clapping.
Roll on 2014. Commonwealth Games in Glasgow then.
England 5, San Marino 0
Quite easily, of course. Fair do's to the FA, though, Not just lots of tickets for the family enclosure going cheap, or the discounted ones for Olympic volunteers. They put ordinary tickets up for sale that were way cheaper than Premier League clubs and only marginally more expensive than Southend United. It seems they've learnt all about demand and supply. Which probably means we're screwed over for Brazil and Scotland tickets. Ah well.
Not to worry, San Marino had an attraction all of its own. The worst side in the world according to Fifa rankings. They put England 5th, mind, so that doesn't say much. One win ever, though, and nearly 500 goals conceded in the past twenty years reveals its own story. A team that would struggle to beat Haringey & Waltham Devlopment. You had to love them.It was the Gang of Four tonight, Chipper, Bri, Ed and I heading off to savour the England 'experience'. As we waited on the platform at the Bay, we heard a shout of "Robert! Move or we'll miss it." We looked across and saw someone who was part female, part Jeremy Kyle guest, chiding this old fella as he shuffled down the stairs.
When he got there, he leaned over the platform, looking at the rails, it seemed, longingly. "Suicide is painless", I began to sing. As our train came in, we all held our breath for a second. We did think he actually might try to jump. He didn't. But the day was young.
We hit Wembley early. It meant we had first dibs on the crappy souvenir stalls from Wembley Park up to the stadium. None of us wanted any England stuff. We all wanted a San Marino scarf. Did any of them sell one? Did they f ...or crying out loud, no. Plenty of those awful half and half scarves. F*** it. You either support one team or the other. We were up for the minnows tonight.
Chastened slightly, we slunk off for a curry. Four meals, side orders, and sets of drinks later, we let Bri sort out the bill. We feared the worst. But at £26 for the lot of us, there was, unusually, one giant f*** up in our favour. Oh yes. Things were looking up.
After a brief visit to the 'Wembley Store', which is essentially Sports Direct but a bit more expensive, we strolled to our seats, not particularly interested in the Beano they had for sale. Well, I might have been, but not seven months out of date.The seats, these days, thankfully have plenty of leg room and there's a decent view whatever part of the ground you're in. Well worth that £750m. And if you sit around long enough, you get your mug up on one of their big screens.
Me? I was cracking a Jimmy Saville joke about his cigars and Monica Lewinsky's youth, and not paying the blindest bit of attention, when Chipper said we were on. At that point he said "I'm off for a dump." We were the only two all night who didn't dance or jump like dicks trying to get on it. Which was perhaps why we stood out.
There was a decent cross section of people, too, as it filled out. I suppose you could say it was the multi-cultualism utopia. Different skin colours, plenty of women and kids, and even some oldie shaven headed blokes in Stone Island, thinking it was still 1980. They began the night sneering and behaving aggressively but stopped after about five minutes when they realised nobody actually gave a toss.
Then they arrived. The four gentlemen of Mong-olia. England shirts with Rooney on the back. Cheering and clapping when Man U players names were announced. Gazing vacantly into space for all the others. Either support the team or don't f*****g bother. But don't be dicks and wear an England shirt, but just support your own players. They, of course, had accents more Southern than an extra on Eastenders.No matter. We were here to give support to our Serie D friends from San Marino. Chipper and I sung their national anthem with gusto. Our own words, admittedly, but I'm sure they appreciated the gesture. I'm not sure Theo Walcott did when their keeper clattered him a couple of minutes in. The last time I saw someone wiped out like that by an Italian he was swinging from a lamp post.
We waited for the inevitable slaughter. And waited. And waited. 20 minutes became 25. Then 30. Inside my pocket was a betting slip. 125/1 on a 1-0 win to San Marino. England go forward and miss. The Man U collective in front celebrate then ask why the goal was disallowed. Despite the replay showing the ball going wide. I began to believe.
Bastard stupid thing to do, that. Once you start believing you know it'll end in tears. The keeper wipes out another Englishman. Obvious penalty. An immediate yellow card. As the ref puts his card back into his pocket the boys in front chant "Off! Off! Off! Off!", presumably because a Man U player was fouled. Rooney slots the ball home and they cheer, shouting that he's a United player.A couple of minutes later and the Mongolians are at it again. Lovely finish by Danny Welbeck, mind. Proving that back heel in the Euro's was no fluke. Half time and England lead against the worst international side I've ever seen 2-0. Mediocre at best.
20 years or so ago it was the same story. Poor performance, leading by a couple of goals. Back then, though, there were no Sky Boys in the crowd. The majority had minds of their own, then, and weren't obsessed with how 'their' players did. They were concerned about the team and let them know that they were awful. Today, though, it seemed the crowd were happy with 2-0, so long as they got their face on the tv or stadium screen.
The second half was no better. The San Marino goalkeeper obviously felt the handball rule applied to him as well. They couldn't take a throw-in properly, nor could they pass in a straight line. Yet England never looked remotely like scaring them for a long spell. Rooney and Welback then came up with another double with around 20 minutes left. The pseudo Mancs rejoiced.Then the piece de resistance. Oxlade Chamberlain gets his first World Cup goal with a quarter of an hour left. Upon seeing a non Man U player score, they refuse to clap or celebrate and simply leave. "We've not paid good money to clap that." the oldest of the them says as they make their way out. F*** off back to Sky+, boys. You're not wanted.
The rest of the game is played out comfortably by San Marino. During the days of Taylor and McMenemy, the team were roundly jeered, as each awful minute passed. Tonight, though, some were celebrating as if it was Argentina we'd just played. In a semi-final. Perhaps it's just me being cynical, but England were bloody awful.
The curry was great, and it was good to see such a mix of people following England. I went when it used to be a frightening experience, even at Wembley, and I'm damn pleased it's not like that now. But there's such a lack of love of the game itself, a lack of knowledge in so many people, it's diluted things far too much. Perhaps next time they should put fish on the seats, instead of laminated flags, and let the crowd eat them after 90 minutes of mindless happy clapping.
Roll on 2014. Commonwealth Games in Glasgow then.
England 5, San Marino 0
No comments:
Post a Comment