They will come together in droves to watch the European Championship final between England and Spain on the giant screen, helping to show once again how London is unparalleled in its ability to show off the tapestry of humanity. And as they watch their Cosmo England team compete in the final, having come from behind but won all three of their previous knockout stage matches, they will learn that it has been a long time since England has won either of the world’s biggest football tournaments, the World Cup or the Euros.
Few people were alive when England won the World Cup in 1966. And that doesn’t include the boys who poured beer over a railing about 20 feet down into the mouth of a boy who tried to pick it up. You probably had to ask some rude questions to find anyone who remembered that England finished 4 and West Germany 2 in that World Cup final. By the way, were you alive in 1966?
One man said he was two years old but didn’t remember anything, or that anyone had said anything to him. Two men said, no, they arrived in 1968 and 1970. Finally, one man said he was 12, but added: “I’m not typical. I must emphasize this.”
Rob Williams watched the game from a hotel in Bournemouth on the south coast. “It was complete madness, actually,” he said. But he rooted for West Germany, waving a little West German flag, because he thought the English enthusiasm was “a bit chauvinistic, is how I would describe it”.
“The England team have become a really likeable bunch in recent years,” he says. “Their manager is [Gareth Southgate] He’s a really nice guy, and the players are a nice, diverse bunch, and they really represent what’s great about the country these days. I’m really interested in the current scene.”
He spoke about the current situation for 56 million Britons: “Despite years of suffering, [England] I’m almost proud of it. I’m proud of the suffering I’ve endured over the years. So if I actually win, it’s going to be a bit of an adjustment.”
“I don’t know what to do myself” in a situation like this, her daughter Ellie said.
“Oh no,” Rob said, “it doesn’t come naturally to us. We like to be bitterly disappointed.”
Since that horrific day in July 1966 – so long ago that 10 of the starting 11 and 18 of the 22 players are no longer with us – there have been 28 World Cups and Euros. England qualified in 21 of these tournaments and reached the knockout stages in 15. They lost three of the round of 16, seven quarter-finals, four semi-finals and one final (Euro 2021). Seven defeats, notably the horror of penalty shootouts – twice at Wembley Stadium, then in Turin, Gelsenkirchen, Saint-Étienne, Lisbon and Kiev. They subjected their devoted but reluctant fans to a 58-year nightmare starring Diego Maradona and many others, losing the glitzy title of the sport they invented six times to West Germany/Germany and four times each to France and Italy. Three times each against Spain, Brazil and Argentina (the latter two having the disadvantage of not being able to participate in the Euros), and once each against Portugal, Denmark, the Netherlands, Greece and Czechoslovakia.
That’s a lot of disappointment, more than enough to stew in a richly refined paste of pessimism with artful cynicism, and then, at 8pm BST in the wide, packed courtyard of Between the Bridges, a venue and pub near the London Eye on the River Thames, they belted out “God Save the King.”
… continues to control us …
They cheered at kick-off and then settled into the emotional silence that comes from studying the game.
The streets of central London were a constant source of tension, especially over missed opportunities. London nights are rarely lively, but this one had an extra layer of quality. Pub windows were lined with people craning their necks in the same direction, unless the proprietor had covered them with flags to show otherwise. Singing blared from the front and across the street. Crowds had gathered outside the pub doors, sometimes honking as cars passed. Joggers looked oddly out of place. Rickshaws have often modernised with music systems to suit their pink fur, but one man was playing a game with his mobile phone on the handlebars, plugged into the sound system.
England equalised in the 73rd minute, to cheers.
Finally, of course, if you were wandering around you might have come across the Blue Post pub (established in 1739) on Rupert Street, which became the scene of faint screams, and it was only this little sound that told you that Spain had scored, that they had scored late (86th minute, through substitute Mikel Oyarzabal), and that a hopeful 1-1 game had turned into the usual 2-1 result.
Night faded. Mayhem remained somewhere in the future. Crowds dispersed with something like know-how. The police surrounding Trafalgar Square looked good, but they did little to police it. The police surrounding the Great Fountain knew that if the situation had been reversed, they would probably have had to keep an eye on people who might treat it like a swimming pool.
Not far away on the sidewalk, two young people had never seen the old faces. They were part of a generation that would replace them, and perhaps spoke for 56 million people. Austin Hayden said, “I think it’s slowly but surely dawning on me that people older than me are not optimistic at all. I go into every tournament very optimistic, and I get crushed every time…” Claire Wandless said, “I think an England win is, well, pretty much conceptualized now. I don’t know if we’ll ever experience an England win. I’d like to, but it’s just, ‘Oh, someone said it felt like this when they won.'”
“I will,” Hayden said. “I will. I will.”
“It will happen,” Wandres said, “but we’re not there yet, and it’s getting further and further away.”
Later, as the taxi pulled up at traffic lights on Holland Park Road, the old story came on over the radio, just as a woman in a nearby car rolled down her window across the road and said to the taxi driver: “How do you think it was managed?”
“Not very good,” the driver replied. “We should have changed it sooner.”
He pauses for a moment and then says, “Typically British.”
