Tonight, England departed The World Cup Tournament in Qatar. France beat us by two goals to one and in football-speak I now feel "gutted" and "as sick as a parrot". We lost at the quarter final stage. On a different night and with different luck, we could have come out on top. It wasn't that France were so much better than us. Our captain - Harry Kane - scored one penalty and skied another. He is normally so very reliable but not tonight when we needed him the most. Oh woe is me! Woe is England! Woe! Woe! Woe!
Back in the summer of 1966, I followed The World Cup religiously. I had sticker books, a wall chart and knew every player who would be playing. I was only twelve years old and my brain had room for lots of football stuff. That year England famously went all the way to the final where we beat West Germany by four goals to two and lifted the golden Jules Rimet trophy.
What a summer that was! Bobby Moore lifted on his teammates shoulders, toothless Nobby Stiles dancing a merry jig and Kenneth Wostenholme commentating, "They think it's all over!...It is now!" as the fourth goal went in.
Since that day, 30th July 1966, disappointment has followed England's men's team like a curse. So many nearlys, false dawns and might-have-beens. Promising so much and coming home empty-handed.
I suppose our lads have had a good tournament . They gave their all and came together as a squad. There's no doubt we have some very gifted players but it's not the same as winning the trophy is it? That is what England really wanted and needed right now - more than ever - yet the final prize has eluded us once more.
I shall climb up the stairs after midnight feeling as miserable as sin and no doubt that mood of disappointment will remain with me for a few more days. Somehow it's more than "just football". It's part of our national psyche and how we see our ourselves. Once again - football is not coming home after all.
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/lNiv7LF
