Is there a day of the year that football doesn't have a 'groundbreaking' story to sell to the world? Probably not. This year in particular has been as droning and monotonous as the sound heard at the world cup, the voice of Adrian Chiles. All year round there have been footballers plastered on the front pages of tabloid newspapers under the headlines "poor footballers' wives" and "crash bang wallop" in reference to adultery and car accidents. Unfortunately, the nation has become celebrity-obsessed with 7 out of 10 people wanting to become famous 'by any means necessary' and this has leaked into the world of sport. Football is a worldwide phenomenon and one of the most powerful marketing tools on the planet, but does it really matter in Phil Neville has been texting his neighbor (understandably a bit farfetched that there would ever be two women interested in him at any one time) or that Jermaine Jenas has crashed his kitted up Saxo in an ASDA car park? Again, probably not.
The culmination of the world cup (and a terrible one at that) should have resulted in some respite for the general public and a chance to moan about the weather and don the classic t-shirt suntan look. Predictably however, this was not the case as we turned to channel 405 only to find the latest score of Grimsby's pre-season friendly against third-tier Bulgarian opposition. Ironically enough, the 74 people across the globe who actually cared about the game were inside the stadium, so what's the point of telling us? It's only now that the echoes of "we wuz robbed" have started to subside into a murmur, but for the past two months it's been a painful ordeal even for the neutrals of Britain. To sum up the English season, no English teams qualified for the Champions League semi-finals and this was deemed a disaster. Every Englishman and woman became a Fulham supporter for the day, until they lost, then they were a disgrace. The English Premier League avoided a Welsh intruder (which is still a bitter pill to swallow) and invited humble Blackpool into their hierarchy. Fabio Capello named Emile Heskey in his world cup squad. England were average in their world cup warm up fixtures and continued on a downward spiral to their eventual tournament exit to a hammering by old rivals Germany. Every Englishman and woman became a Howard Webb supporter for a few weeks, who refereed as badly as England played, then he was also a disgrace. Everyone in English football retreated to the Caribbean somewhat embarrassed leaving the public and the media to turn every one's lives into hell on earth.
The endless football phone-in's on talk radio stations were completely taking over the usual slots of discussing how best to clean the insects from your windscreen and which biscuits are the best accompaniment for afternoon tea, which in itself is an outrage. Instead, English fans up and down the country were once again proving the common stereotype of a football fan to be an accurate one, that of a brainless, trilby-wearing lager lout. The issues raised were vast and varied, but on the whole ridiculous:
• Wayne Rooney didn’t ‘want it enough’.
• Theo Walcott should have been there.
• The ball was too round.
• England would have won if Frank Lampard’s goal had been allowed.
• Rob Green cost England the world cup.
These are just very few of the topics discussed, at length, during prime-time talk radio hours where the general listening public would usually be treated to a debate on ways to utilise the elastic band to its true and magnificent potential.
From the neutrals point of view, the world cup was very predictable. Every advert on television would somehow be related to football and Terry Venables, John Barnes, Graham Taylor and other such has-beens would be reeled out to re-invent the spirit of 1966. Once the actual playing began, it was obvious, England would struggle through the group stages, then crash out in the knockout stages. Why is this obvious? Because any side boasting such talents as Emile Heskey were never realistically going to achieve a thing.
Some things to come out of the world cup from an English perspective?
• Don’t play Steven Gerrard on the left.
• Don’t play 4-4-2.
• Gareth Barry probably isn’t the answer to all your problems.
• Matthew Upson isn’t very good.
• Don’t leave it until 2 hours before kick off to select an already nervous team.
• If you need goals, don’t send on Emile Heskey.
Now all that is done, it should return to the blissful calm of a cricketing summer, British Open Golf, Tour de France, Wimbledon and their summer sporting counterparts. Yet, already the countdown has begun to another football season which is somehow a mere matter of hours away once more. Every football fan worth his salt will be keeping a keen eye on transfer news, upcoming fixtures and injuries at their respected clubs and rightly so. Lower league supporters will undoubtedly be looking forward to seeing their boys compete again after a few months under the radar. But for the premier league and internationals, has there really been a summer break? From August 2009 to now, it’s been a cacophony of football and the game is threatening to become as tired and limp as Harry Redknapp’s face. But once the rain sets in come late September and away days to Rochdale and Scunthorpe begin to materialise, the world will once again firmly be in football mode minus the phone-in congestion with any luck. Maybe one day there will be a football-free summer, but for now, it’s time to keep dreaming. H’away the Bluebirds!
The culmination of the world cup (and a terrible one at that) should have resulted in some respite for the general public and a chance to moan about the weather and don the classic t-shirt suntan look. Predictably however, this was not the case as we turned to channel 405 only to find the latest score of Grimsby's pre-season friendly against third-tier Bulgarian opposition. Ironically enough, the 74 people across the globe who actually cared about the game were inside the stadium, so what's the point of telling us? It's only now that the echoes of "we wuz robbed" have started to subside into a murmur, but for the past two months it's been a painful ordeal even for the neutrals of Britain. To sum up the English season, no English teams qualified for the Champions League semi-finals and this was deemed a disaster. Every Englishman and woman became a Fulham supporter for the day, until they lost, then they were a disgrace. The English Premier League avoided a Welsh intruder (which is still a bitter pill to swallow) and invited humble Blackpool into their hierarchy. Fabio Capello named Emile Heskey in his world cup squad. England were average in their world cup warm up fixtures and continued on a downward spiral to their eventual tournament exit to a hammering by old rivals Germany. Every Englishman and woman became a Howard Webb supporter for a few weeks, who refereed as badly as England played, then he was also a disgrace. Everyone in English football retreated to the Caribbean somewhat embarrassed leaving the public and the media to turn every one's lives into hell on earth.
The endless football phone-in's on talk radio stations were completely taking over the usual slots of discussing how best to clean the insects from your windscreen and which biscuits are the best accompaniment for afternoon tea, which in itself is an outrage. Instead, English fans up and down the country were once again proving the common stereotype of a football fan to be an accurate one, that of a brainless, trilby-wearing lager lout. The issues raised were vast and varied, but on the whole ridiculous:
• Wayne Rooney didn’t ‘want it enough’.
• Theo Walcott should have been there.
• The ball was too round.
• England would have won if Frank Lampard’s goal had been allowed.
• Rob Green cost England the world cup.
These are just very few of the topics discussed, at length, during prime-time talk radio hours where the general listening public would usually be treated to a debate on ways to utilise the elastic band to its true and magnificent potential.
From the neutrals point of view, the world cup was very predictable. Every advert on television would somehow be related to football and Terry Venables, John Barnes, Graham Taylor and other such has-beens would be reeled out to re-invent the spirit of 1966. Once the actual playing began, it was obvious, England would struggle through the group stages, then crash out in the knockout stages. Why is this obvious? Because any side boasting such talents as Emile Heskey were never realistically going to achieve a thing.
Some things to come out of the world cup from an English perspective?
• Don’t play Steven Gerrard on the left.
• Don’t play 4-4-2.
• Gareth Barry probably isn’t the answer to all your problems.
• Matthew Upson isn’t very good.
• Don’t leave it until 2 hours before kick off to select an already nervous team.
• If you need goals, don’t send on Emile Heskey.
Now all that is done, it should return to the blissful calm of a cricketing summer, British Open Golf, Tour de France, Wimbledon and their summer sporting counterparts. Yet, already the countdown has begun to another football season which is somehow a mere matter of hours away once more. Every football fan worth his salt will be keeping a keen eye on transfer news, upcoming fixtures and injuries at their respected clubs and rightly so. Lower league supporters will undoubtedly be looking forward to seeing their boys compete again after a few months under the radar. But for the premier league and internationals, has there really been a summer break? From August 2009 to now, it’s been a cacophony of football and the game is threatening to become as tired and limp as Harry Redknapp’s face. But once the rain sets in come late September and away days to Rochdale and Scunthorpe begin to materialise, the world will once again firmly be in football mode minus the phone-in congestion with any luck. Maybe one day there will be a football-free summer, but for now, it’s time to keep dreaming. H’away the Bluebirds!
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