LONG LONG time ago (that reads like the start of a song) I opted out of what the broadcasting big bosses appear to believe should be compulsory television viewing of England games. Between myopic commentators, colour co-commentators who were even worse and the fact, if I wanted to watch pish fitba I could get off my fat erse and go and watch Scotland. I opted out – without suffering from this decision.
On Monday night, morbid fascination dragged me back, to watch the Channel 4 coverage from Wembley of England v Germany. Now morbid fascination is a peculiarly Scottish state of mind. The great George Macdonald Fraser, biographer of Brigadier General Sir Harry Paget Flashman VC KCB KCIE and Private J McAuslan, best summed it up when he wrote that: “The Jocks followed their Anglo-Scottish officers with a sort of morbid fascination as to what sort of bother they might lead them into.”
Any way, on Monday, I switched-on C4 with just that sort of interest, perhaps thinking: “Is Gareth Southgate as useless as his critics are making out?” There was also the motivation: “If the Germans are any good, and England as bad as they are being made out, this might be fun.”
Sadly, Herr Flick of the DFB and Die Mannschaft 2022 vintage, are some way short of previous Tutonic visitors to Wembley old or new. Yes, Monday's team was minus one or two of the big names, such as Thomas Mϋller or Manuel Neuer, but I still sort of hoped they could do the sort of job on a shite England team I recall a Gϋnter Netzer-inspired West Germany doing back in 1972.
Just how many might Gerd Müller have scored, running at Harry Maguire, onto passes from Netzer and Beckenbauer? If you're English, you shudder to consider this hypothesis.
I gave up after half an hour, this was rubbish, two bad teams playing bad football, while dressed in terrible kits. Mind you, the pattern was set before the kick-off. I realise, with the likes of Ian Wright and just about any BBC Shortbread fitba talking head you might care to mention, the bar is currently set very low for football comment. OK, the likes of 'Wrightie' have made it compulsory to have a pair of big tits on-screen, but, some of women presenters and commentators we have to endure these days. Jings, crivvens, help ma Boab.
With four daughters, I am all in favour of promoting women, but, please, let's have women with talent – the likes of Mrs Logan, Claire Balding and oor ain Lee Mackenzie and Hazel Irvine. The sub-editor in me screamed inwardly when one of the Wembley Women introduced, and I quote: “Two of our Lioness heroes.”
No dear, “Lioness Heroines” I would have let you away with, but, as we all know, nobody mangles the English language quite like the English.
Any way, it went downhill after that. The passing, from both sides, was shockingly poor, there was a total lack of craft, imagination or impetus. I changed channels.
Apparently, or so I have been told by one or two Facebook friends who stuck with it, the game improved, to end up a 3-3 draw. However, the same friends have assured me, neither team looks likely to be in contention for the World Cup. That I don't believe – we already know England will go to Qatar and flatter to deceive, but, you never, ever, write-off the Germans at a World Cup.
Any way, after turning over, I watched most of a Rob Bell documentary on Titanic then the entertaining Guy Ritchie film Snatch. Both the very-under-rated Mr Bell and the ensemble cast: Jason Statham, Stephen Graham, Brad Pitt and Vinny Jones, to name but a few, were more-entertaining than England – and Vinny Jones is still, I suspect, a better central defender than Harry Maguire.
One interesting factoid to emerge from Monday night's coverage – seemingly Gareth Southgate has managed England in 76 games, and only lost 13 matches. Yet many England fans think he's rubbish. That's the biggest problem with being England manager – England expects far too much.
Your average England fan has fallen, hook, line and sinker, for their media's constant propaganda about their Premier League being “The best league in the world,” which it isn't, and in any case, if any neutral commentator was to sit down and pick a best team from the players in that league – there wouldn't be a single English player in that XI. But, you could never get an England fan to believe that.
For instance, yesterday I happened across a Paddy Power advert, which had a Gaelic Football commentator saying basically: “If a game is shite, I'll say it's shite.” He'd never get a broadcasting gig this side of the water with that approach.
Better I feel to be Scottish, and be repeatedly killed by our hopes for our football team being crushed, than to be English and see your great expectations repeatedly thwarted.
I will not be watching the Scotland v Ukraine match tonight. I will be at the local Odeon, getting a dose of culture, with the viewing of a performance of Madame Butterfly from the Royal Opera.
I accepted this engagement, meal before hand as a birthday treat for one of the ladies in the party, before I realised there was a fixture clash. Any way, Scotland tend to play better away from home when I'm not spectating, so I will be watching Puccini's tale with half a mind that things could well go better for Cio-Cio-San and Lieutenant Pinkerton than for Stevie Clarke and Captain McGinn.
Mind you, the way the Scotland squad is being hit by this virus, we could be down to the last XI standing and produce a narrow victory – after all, it's usually Scotland's way to find the most-difficult path to glory in any competition.
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