Say what you like about Gary Lineker, and plenty do, but he’s a terrific presenter and when he’s not running it, Match of the Day dials down a notch. If he wants to bang on about the language of Suella Braverman and 1930s Germany, well it’s a free country – though elsewhere you might find his lachrymose response to the Gaza war somewhat tiresome.
When Lineker decided to ramp up his cosy, own-brand T-shirt style by using his podcast to call the England team’s (admittedly lacklustre) performance against Denmark ‘shit’, doubtless the bevvied-up boyos at the Croydon fan zone would have downed a few more pints in appreciation. He might not have been too far off the mark, but that sort of bar-room ballyhoo feels part of the endlessly rising violence of football discourse – in contrast to what, until now anyway, has been a remarkably well-behaved tournament. When Lineker’s views were put to Harry Kane, he suggested asking Gary and his podcast pals what they had ever won for England. Good point.
Lineker mightn’t have been too far off the mark, but that sort of bar-room ballyhoo feels part of the rising violence of football discourse
On England the world is full of experts but it is fairly amazing that Southgate seems to be making it up as he goes along. Why leave James Maddison and Jack Grealish at home if the players he preferred, Anthony Gordon and Cole Palmer, have barely had a look-in until the very end of the final group match? In the unlikely event of England winning this tournament, Southgate has every right to expect a valedictory knighthood.
Meanwhile, another would-be footballing knight of the realm finds himself in a spot of bother after a furious bile-ridden biography from that master of the hatchet job Tom Bower. Over the years David Beckham’s desire for a ‘K’ has been thinly disguised. Whether he deserves one is another matter, given that he never won anything for England. His wife seems a much better candidate: she has a droll sense of humour and has put up with Goldenballs playing away more times than a football club without a home ground. Allegedly, of course. Give Posh a damehood for services to fashion, I say, and watch Dave wince when Dame Posh and Mr David Beckham are announced.
They were once as rare as Scotland goals, but now sporting knighthoods are handed out pretty freely. It used to be only the suits who got honoured, but gradually sportsmen and women felt the tap on the shoulder, starting with Gordon Richards, Donald Bradman and Stanley Matthews. There has always been a political element to who gets them – Harold Wilson made sure Matthews got his – but they have become more politicised. Yet there are welcome surprises. Who saw a K coming for that cycling hero Mark Cavendish? Should we be looking out for Sir Tyson Fury? Hope not, myself, though I won’t be telling him that to his face. It’s still surprising neither Martin Johnson nor Jonny Wilkinson got the tap for winning the rugby world cup. Maybe they’re candidates.
The T20 world cup hasn’t been covering itself in much glory. One of the main attractions, England, very nearly got booted out because no spare day was scheduled in the event of rain. How can the ‘organisers’ be so disorganised they couldn’t plan for a washout (an event not hard to predict given that they chose to stage part of the tournament in the West Indies during the rainy season)? Scotland have every reason to feel aggrieved, as they could have won that game too.
And looking at the TV coverage, the grounds were often woefully empty in the interminable group stages. You can see more people at a Rishi Sunak appreciation society. Wasn’t there any research to see whether people would turn up? It’s the meteorological equivalent of staging a sunbathing competition in northern Scotland in winter.
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