The not so beautiful game

Same rubbish, new wrapper. This is the criticism usually levelled at those big bad soccer clubs who put out a new kit every season with minor alterations. Where the clubs lead, the publishers follow. David Winner, the author of this rambling and incoherent discussion of the national game, is a theoriser so prolific that he can prove his case on one page and refute it a few paragraphs later. To show that English football is bloodier than the continental game he quotes the Frenchman Robert Pires: ‘Some of the tackles are like rugby. People will run you over.’ A little further on we hear that Ravanelli and Zola came from Italy and ‘enjoyed English sportsmanship, the relaxed atmosphere, and the huge amount of space they had to play in’.

Winner is captivated by the idea that football of old was a sport played by gentlemanly heroes. Nat Lofthouse is offered as the embodiment of these ancient virtues, and the enumeration of his saintly deeds includes the story of his attempt to score during the 1958 cup final by shoulder-charging the Man U keeper across the line. Hardly fair play. Yet the goal was given. The saga of Dixie Dean contributes further conflicting evidence. At 17 young Dixie was brutally hacked down while appearing for Tranmere reserves. His ruptured testicle had to be removed by surgeons. Years later, after a glittering career, Dixie was sitting in a Chester pub when a stranger passed him a pint of beer. He recognised his old assailant, went across and introduced himself. Dixie recalls, ‘I done his face up and they took him to the hospital so we’re evens.’ Clearly footballers are as selfish, vain and violent as ever, and sports writers as sentimental and dogmatic.