England

Home 2007/08 – Umbro

     

   

   

The country

Right, so I’m bound to be a little biased here as we’re talking about the land of my birth – not that I had much say in this you understand, but it was considered necessary for me to be close to my mother at the time – but England really is a rather splendid place to live. The country has history and tradition oozing out of its ears (we should probably get that looked at), timid weather that’s rarely too hot or cold, a gentle landscape that doesn’t sweep entire communities into the sea, douse them in piping hot lava or open up and swallow them whole, and London, a capital that ranks amongst the world’s foremost global cities and is home to over 200 nationalities speaking over 300 languages, absolutely none of which you will ever hear on the Underground, where attempting to converse with fellow commuters is punishable by execution in the Tower of London. “Off with his lips.”

This degree of multiculturalism can be a divisive issue in these parts, with some recognising the benefits such as better food and a larger pool of skilled workers for the NHS etc, while others are less enthused and get especially perturbed by people speaking anything other than English, this despite their own somewhat strained relationship with the language.

Historically, England was of course the centre of the mighty British Empire, which at its peak stretched across all seven continents and was forged through a careful strategy of trade, diplomacy and blowing dissenting natives to smithereens with ruddy great big guns.                                Nowadays, with this kind of genocidal mischief generally frowned upon, England’s external territories are a little more thin on the ground, consisting mostly of colonies clung onto principally for the purpose of irritating other countries like Spain (Gibraltar), Argentina (Falkland Islands) and Scotland (Scotland.) Presiding over this hugely diminished realm are our wildly eccentric Royal Family, headed by reigning monarch Elizabeth II and her motley band of regal renegades, including husband Prince Phillip – a man whose chief talent appears to be taking good taste out back and bludgeoning it to death with his tongue – eldest son Prince Charles – the longest serving heir apparent in British history, so much so that you can imagine him wandering around Buckingham Palace turning down radiators and leaving roller skates at the top of staircases – and youngest son Prince Edward, Earl of Wessex, a chap so monumentally inconsequential that they fobbed him off with a title containing a made up county and he still hasn’t noticed.

OK, let’s talk stereotypes. There exists any number of deeply ingrained cliches about the English, often reinforced by our depiction in American media and pop culture. So, in the interests of thoroughness, I thought I’d examine a few of the most popularly held beliefs about my country and see if any stand up to scrutiny.

Cliche 1 – We eat terrible food.

Definitely a go-to stereotype for our chums across the pond, this myth most likely originates from the period of rationing in Britain during, and in the decade following the Second World War when people had to cobble together whatever was available into a proper meal. Today, English cuisine is vastly improved and its reputation is steadily growing, albeit no thanks to Cornwall, whose infamous ‘stargazy pie’ (see picture below) is probably what the yanks envision us eating for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert.

Cliche 2 – We’re overly polite and forever apologising.

Sorry, but we’re not.

Cliche 3  – All English people speak like the Queen or, god forbid, like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.

For such a small country, England boasts a surprisingly vast array of regional accents. Naturally this can be a little confusing for foreign visitors so here’s a quick guide to some of the more impenetrable dialects.

Geordie – Spoken in the Newcastle area and notoriously difficult to imitate, native Geordies are typically a very amiable bunch, however if you hear anything along the lines of “Aahm ganna morder ye t death yuz bastaah” best make an exit sharpish.

Scouse – A rich, full-bodied, frothy accent, sounding not unlike someone who has neglected to dispense with their mouthwash before breaking into speech. Probably an idea to reach into your pocket for a phrasebook when visiting Liverpool. Might want to check your wallet is still there while you’re at it.

Yorkshire – How does a Yorkshireman get rid of halitosis? Eeh by gum. Sorry about that. Anyway, the prevailing wisdom is that you’ll never have to ask someone if they’re from Yorkshire as they’ll inevitably have relayed this information to you within five seconds of making your acquaintance.

Cornish – If pirates had combine harvesters.

Brummie – Just, no.

Milton Keynes – Easily the smoothest, sexiest accent in the country, spoken only by those of great intelligence, physical attractiveness and the virility of a rabbit on shore leave. Incidentally, this is the type of accent I have.

Cliche 4 – All English people are posh, eloquently spoken and don’t like to show their emotions.

Three words; Jeremy Kyle Show.

Cliche 5 – We have an excessively dry sense of humour.

How very droll.

Cliche 6 –  That we’re all a bit xenophobic.

Honestly, who makes this stuff up? Probably the French, which would be typical of them, the lazy, pungent, wine guzzling surrender monkeys.

Finally, Cliche 7 – We’re all hopeless alcoholics.

OK, this one’s true. I blame our footballers, which leads us grimly to….

The national team

Being an England football supporter guarantees two things, first that your country’s name will inexplicably sprout an additional syllable when chanted in song (‘En-ger-land, En-gerrrrrr-land’) and also that you’re in for a world of pain, misery and disappointment. My earliest World Cup memories are of a talented, if slightly fortuitous Three Lions side dragging themselves to the semi-finals of Italia 90*, ultimately finishing as the fourth best team on the planet. As a rather naive eight year old with no grasp of the game’s history, I assumed this to be the natural order of things and that we would, in relatively short order, be winning a major international tournament, an idea that quickly showed itself to be bollocks, unless you count winning the 1997 Tournoi de France and being handed the worst trophy in the history of human civilisation.

A rare look at Alan Shearer’s ‘party face.’

*This also marked the first time I realised that our success was not universally popular amongst our neighbouring countries, even where my own family are concerned, as I noticed my Irish mother and nan would let out excited gasps every time Cameroon came close to scoring in our quarter-final victory which, as I recall, was disturbingly often.

With this is mind, I’ve decided to look back at my own personal memories of watching England at major tournaments since 1990. Here goes.

Euro 92 – Out in the group stage. Not really that fussed. Too busy watching WWF wrestling.

USA 94 – England fail to qualify thanks to Graham Taylor’s peculiar insistence that Carlton Palmer and Andy Sinton are international class players. Support Ireland instead. Laugh at Italian friends when we beat them in group opener. Laugh at them again following Baggio’s penalty in the final.

Euro 96 – Football’s coming home. What a time to be alive. Watch us destroy the Netherlands 4-1 while my jaw graces the carpet. Late Dutch goal also sends Scotland packing, so fun day all round. Actually win on penalties against Spain in the quarters – the only time to date we’ve ever won a shootout –  but miss out on the final following this miss by Gascoigne against Germany, which I still find tough to watch to this day.

France 98 – Sprint home from my GCSE exams to watch every match that I can. Throughly decent England team undone in highly dubious circumstances against Argentina in last 16. Develop a deep antipathy towards Diego Simeone.

Euro 2000 – Develop a deep antipathy toward Phillip Neville.

Japan/Korea 2002 – Crazy tournament. Up before seven each morning to watch matches from the Far East. Most of the favourites knocked out early. Sudden unbridled optimism. ‘Come on boys, we got this.’ Sven Goran Erikkson delivers his infamous half-time team talk against Brazil, which unfortunately doesn’t extend to telling David Seaman to stick close to his goal line.

Euro 2004 – For the first time ever I genuinely expect us to win a tournament. 18 year old Wayne Rooney scares the bejesus out of Europe. “Golden generation” emerges, however Sven decides that the best way to utilise some of the finest attacking talent in Europe is to shove them all behind the ball whenever England take the lead. Unsurprisingly this doesn’t end well.

Germany 2006 – Dear Wayne; If you’re going to stamp on some Portuguese testicles and cost us the match, can you at least make sure they belong to Cristiano shitbiscuit?

Euro 2008 – Steve McClaren drafted in to help give England players a well-earned summer off.

South Africa 2010 – What the fuck is a vuvuzela? Oh, that’s what it is. Do they really play those things throughout the entire match? They DO? God bless the man who invented the mute button. Less said about the football the better. I’ll just summarise it in three bullet points. Rob Green. Algeria. LINO!!!!!.

Euro 2012 – My first dalliance with genuine pre-tournament pessimism.  Andrea Pirlo makes Joe Hart look a mug back before it was cool.

Brazil 2014 – Despite expectations being through the floor, Hodgson’s England still manage to leave us all disappointed by getting eliminated after just one week. A new low, that is until……

Euro 2016 – Harry Kane taking corners. Beaten by Iceland. Tournament as dull as a wet parsnip. Subsequently promise I’ll never again allow myself even the slightest shred of optimism heading into a major tournament.

Russia 2018 (Just four weeks away at time of writing.) – Kind group stage, hungry young team. We could totally win this. ‘Come on EN-GER-LAND, EN-GERRRRR-LAND!!!!’

All that aside, England WERE legitimately the best side in the world at two distinct historical junctures. While everyone knows about 1966* and all that jazz , prior to the Second World War the team really were streets ahead of most other nations and, had we not arrogantly ignored the first three World Cups between 1930-1938 thinking the tournament to be beneath us, there’s every chance the Three Lions badge today would be adorned with four stars instead of just one.

*Yes, I know it wasn’t over the line, but West Germany’s last minute equaliser that forced extra time in the first place was also highly suspect, so shut up.

The shirt

As an Englishman, it should come as no surprise that I actually own several England shirts of various vintages, including classic designs like the grey Euro 96 away top and the 2002 World cup home version famously worn during that surreal 5-1 tonking of Germany in Munich in 2001. So, you may be wondering why I regard this 2007/08 effort by Umbro, worn during Steve McClaren’s ill-fated reign, and which consequently didn’t even feature at a major tournament, as THE England shirt in my collection. This has less to do with history or aesthetics (although it is quite a natty looking number) and everything to do with sentimental value, as it was the first Valentines gift I ever received from my girlfriend Heather following its release in February 2007. She also bought me the Simpsons season nine boxset. She’s a good egg. x

In addition to having been purchased by my beloved, the best part of this design is the prominence – both in terms of size and shininess – of the gold world cup winners star. For some unfathomable reason, since Nike took over manufacturing duties, England shirt designers have decreed that said star should be the same colour as the kit (home or away), rendering it practically invisible in most cases. See below.

       

Why would you do that? While it probably isn’t healthy to be banging on about 1966 all the time, this doesn’t change the fact that England are one of just eight countries, as of May 2018, to have been crowned world champions. None of the other seven previous winners try to be so candid about this. Indeed Uruguay, far from attempting to conceal their two World Cup triumphs of 1930 and 1950, have actually had the balls to sew FOUR stars on their shirts in reference to the two Olympic football golds they won in 1924 and 1928, which they regard as legitimate world titles, occurring as they did before FIFA’s four yearly extravaganza was up and running.            On that note I’d just like to point out that Great Britain were Olympic champions in 1900, 1908 and 1912, on each occasion featuring only English amateur players, so come on Nike, make with the stars.