When you think about it, football is quite disappointing really, isn’t it?
In England, Manchester City have won a record fourth league title in a row, a fate unmatched in Premier League history. And yet, defeat to an infinitely beatable Real Madrid in the Champions League semi-final, coupled with an upset in the FA Cup final to rivals Manchester United, means that the open top bus parade had a distinctive whiff of ‘is this all there is?’ about it.
In Germany, Leverkusen won their first ever Bundesliga title, becoming the first ever top flight German club to go the entire season unbeaten. They made it one of the most unlikely doubles in world football when they added the German Cup at the weekend. But they lost the Europa League final 3-0 to Atalanta. And as such, an air of ‘what might have been’ flooded the German sports pages.
In France, PSG won their 800th Ligue 1 title in a row. But once again the Champions League eluded them, and so the mood at Kylian Mbppe’s farewell party went from the excitement of a Beatles reunion to the kind of sporadic clapping one might hear for an Oasis tribute act.
Across Europe, there were title wins for Inter Milan, Celtic, Sporting Lisbon and Real Madrid, or as they're collectively known, Status Quo. So are these achievements any less worthy?
I was thinking about all of this when I saw a picture of the Reading players hoisting Ruben Selles up onto their shoulders after securing survival in League One. Initially, something inside me raged to the surface. My club celebrating League One survival as if they’d just won something. But then the spirit level came out and allowed me to factor in all the crap that Ruben and his players have had to put up with this season. It got me thinking about what success really means, and to whom.
This summer England will play in Euro 2024, and depending on what France do, they really ought to win it. If they can get it together, any shock will lie in the fact that England hasn’t won a trophy since 1966. And yet that expectation belongs to a nation that acts as if it were serial winners.
For years I was quite bitter when England played. I had once been called up to Fabio Cappello’s squad only to be unceremoniously uncalled up 24 hours later (another story for another day). From that point on I was pretty ambivalent about the success of my country. And that ambivalence was compounded by watching players that I didn’t rate receiving caps as if the FA were throwing out confetti.
So I was never too bothered if England won or lost. In fact (and keep this between us), I used to derive some sort of weird pleasure when they were knocked out of tournaments. I suppose in my head, failure kept the players that were taking my place that much closer to me in terms of talent. It’s pathetic I know.
These days, I don’t know too many England players and the ones I do know I like very much. So for the first time in a long time, I’m keen that England win a tournament. I might even be able to handle the fact that England’s success is Gareth Southgate’s success. It’s tough, but I’ll deal with it, I’ll find a way to enjoy it too.
So let’s fast forward and assume that England has won Euro 2024. What now? Bus parades around the country. National holiday. Fall asleep in front of the TV.
I’ll tell you what will happen. Within 48 hours every single news outlet will be full of stories about Southgate’s successor and the future of the England team and what it means for the Premier League.
Even though the status quo will be broken, the media swirl and the expectation around the England team will be the same. Worse, maybe.
Is that depressing? I suppose so. I guess it depends what you’re able to shut out and where you seek your pleasures. These days I try not to worry about things I can’t control. But England shedding players that I don’t like and don’t respect has certainly helped.
Anyway, as I type this I’m on a plane heading to Cyprus for my best friend's wedding and I’ve completely forgotten what my point was. Man City, PSG, Reading, England…? I’m sure it was something about maxing out the good times when they come around.
Whatever it was, just for a few precious moments all of the other crap that doesn’t really matter can wait for another day. And breathe…
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