Now that Gareth Southgate has resigned as England manager, I hope we can allow him some peace. I hope we can thank him for eight years of great service to his country’s football team. I hope we can talk about him, not just in terms of what he didn’t achieve, but what he did.
The shambles he inherited from Sam Allardyce, which I hasten to add was not his fault, even though he should never have been allowed to get even close to the manager’s job, almost defies description. There was no overriding strategy, no obvious plan, frankly no clue at the top. Southgate changed all that, building structures in all age groups, providing pathways all the way to the England team itself. This did not happen by accident. It was Gareth Southgate what done it.
Most people have branded him as cautious, perhaps too cautious. It is not a view I share. That he has not been able to turn semi-final and latterly final appearances into tournament wins is more than a disappointment. But England in the latter stages of tournaments is now the norm, not the exception.
I share the view that he has been blessed with some great players, the two world class ones being Harry Kane and Jude Bellingham, both of whom were below par at the Euros, especially the leaden-footed Kane. He had some players verging on greatness, too, the likes of Foden, Rice and Saka, maybe Cole Palmer. In the end, the manager could not knit together their sometimes disparate talents. Maybe someone else could have. Maybe not.
I don’t want to hear more negative stuff about him. You know the sort of thing. The back-handed compliments – “thanks for everything but you’re not a winner” – and the obvious implication is one more push, under a different bloke, and we will piss it. Can’t we just say thanks, and not add ‘but’ to everything? Of course not. We’re English.
We always hound our managers out. We did from Alf Ramsey onwards and we will do it again when the new bloke comes in because, obviously, we know more about coaching, selection and strategy than some professional coach. After all, we watch football from the terraces after ten pints of Boston’s Old Thumper and we have heard the in-depth match analysis by Jermaine Jenas and Steve McManaman. But we don’t know best. We have opinions. And opinions are like arseholes: we all have them.
In October, the whole shebang kicks off again, with a new manager and the same old debate and criticism. It should be a cake walk. It’s only Finland, Ireland and Greece. Anyone could pick a team to beat those three, even Gareth Southgate. And so it goes.
There’s a reason we have endured so many years of hurt. We’ve not been good enough. Pretending we are good enough and indeed that we have a divine right to win every game simply because we are England doesn’t seem to have worked.
Maybe now that Southgate has gone, will we finally win something, and if we do will it because of the genius of the new bloke or the systems and structures he has put in place? Whatever happens, it will all end in tears. With the England team, it always does.
