You may say I’m a dreamer

Something very strange happened to me on the way to the inevitable penalty shoot-out that decided the Euro 2020 final last night. The agonising tension that gripped me throughout the games against Germany and Denmark was entirely absent. It was so very absent that I stayed with the play off in the Scottish Open golf tournament until shortly before kick off. Perhaps I had decided subconsciously that reaching the final was probably as good as it was going to get. Either way, I wasn’t hurting, which probably isn’t the right word, at any time, even when we lost.

England’s bright and brilliant opening 20 minutes almost blew Italy away, or so we thought. Luke Shaw’s goal appeared to put us in the box seat. If only we could hold on for the next 88 minutes, or 118 minutes plus penalties as it turned out to be. But once Italy got into their stride, their midfield took control of the game and we never looked like getting it back. Italy cut off the supply lines, such as they were, to Harry Kane and Raheem Sterling, who were both forced to come deep just to get a touch of the ball. Once Italy deservedly drew level, I never once thought England could win in ‘normal’ or extra time and, as I said in the opening paragraph to yesterday’s blog, we all know what normally happens to England during penalties.

For some reason, when Three Lions was belting around the pre match stadium, some of the words stuck in my head. “We’re not creative enough, we’re not positive enough”, said Sir Trevor Brooking, before Baddiel and Skinner got on to the main business of being melancholy about England’s years of failure. And, in the eyes of many, we really weren’t creative enough and we weren’t positive enough, but there was far more to it than that.

The whole point of playing a back five and two holding players in midfield is precisely because we are likely to get completely overrun by the best teams if we act all gung ho and “go for it”. Italy’s deadly combination of brilliant individual players, clever tactics, teamwork and downright cynicism will defeat most teams – when did they last lose a game? – so Southgate’s conservative selection made sense. Compete, stay in the game and, if things go well, unleash that brilliant bench when the opposition start to tire. It’s called a ‘game plan’. Sadly for us, Italy’s was better, as was their team.

When penalties arrived, I knew the game was up. For all Jordan Pickford’s heroics, Italy had the enormous Donnarumma, a truly world class goalkeeper. The two Harrys put their hands up to take penalties and scored. The three young guns, Rashford, Sancho and Saka, also put their hands up and missed. And that, as they say, is all she wrote. In the end, the right result, the best team won. Then, I went on social media. Oh dear.

My social media is basically an echo chamber in which I normally only see what I want to see. Last night, after reports emerged that Rashford, Sancho and Saka were suffering appalling racist abuse, I went in search of hate and I found it, lots of it. I reported what I could, but there was so much I had to step aside. If anyone seriously wonders why England players take the knee before games, you only needed to see twitter last night. Reading all that filth last night was the only time I got angry. Football ceased to matter.

Somewhat appropriately, this morning Bristol is shrouded in a grey drizzle and the British summer grinds on. It only matches my normal mood and not how I feel about the football. People I know and love are today going through far more difficult times than losing a mere penalty shoot out. ‘Gutted’? ‘Devastated’? No way. The England boys done great, as they say, but now the dream is over, at least until next year. Maybe my new found perspective will become a permanent fixture and I’ll stop losing my mind during football matches? But then, maybe not. You may say I’m a dreamer. But I’m not the only one.