The Land of Football

Soccer, fútbol, football, call it what you will, in England the game is much more than sport. It’s English society’s central cultural touchstone. It’s more important that the weather, more tabloid than the Royal Family, and dare I say it, bigger than beer. Yes, even the merits of real ale pales in comparison to which WAG has the most prominent lingerie endorsement deal. Upon arriving at Heathrow Airport on Wednesday morning I was greeted at passport control by a large sign with a hint of Orwellian menace that read: “UK BORDER.” It should say: LAND OF FOOTBALL.” Having stopped for a cuppa at a local breakfast café, a quick glance at the telly told me that I was not in Kansas anymore. There was Sir Alex Ferguson putting his men through their paces on the training ground ahead of the return leg of Manchester United’s UEFA Champions League quarterfinal clash with Roma. The scroll at the bottom of the screen told me that Liverpool had thumped Arsenal the night before to advance to their usual Champions League semifinal berth, (or as the headline in one of the tab rags put it: “Red and Buried.”) But these days in dear old Blighty, footie is not confined to the pitch and the sports pages. It’s the coin of the realm. You simply can’t escape it. Sky television is promoting its upcoming programming as “The Heroes Season.” Brad Pitt in full Babel break down dissolves to Oscar winner Dame Judy Dench, who in turn becomes Sir Winston Churchill. And just as I was thinking that ranking Churchill third to Angelina Jolie’s partner was a bad sign of the times, up popped Wayne Rooney. Now as every baby does looks like Churchill, perhaps finding one of the few adults to resemble the wartime Prime Minister was a clever ploy. But does that merit hero status alongside Hollywood heartthrobs, West End legends, and the man who urged the nation to fight Hitler on the beaches? Granted, Rooney will have more time to spend on the beach this summer than originally anticipated, but again the Churchill connection is tenuous at best. If only England’s footballers were as good as the ever-present PR machine that hypes up the volume on them to eleven. The last true English world-class goal scorer is at The Masters this week. Gary Lineker is hosting BBC coverage of the first golf major of the year. I’ve no idea about his putting, but if any golfers need tips on coming through in the clutch, they should interview him. I’ve always thought that the Beeb’s man in Augusta has not received the credit his outstanding career deserves. I would have him starting in my all-time England XI ahead of Jimmy Greaves, Alan Shearer and Stan Mortensen. Sure he’s had plenty of plaudits over the years, but he was the leading scorer at the 1986 FIFA World Cup, and scored England’s two most clutch penalty kicks in history against Cameroon at Italia’90. (There have been plenty of other clutch penalty kicks for England, but players who didn’t have Lineker’s bottle muffed the moment and waited for their agents to get them pizza commercials.) Lets face it, if Trevor Brooking and Geoff Hurst have knighthoods, then Lineker should be Lord Leicester by now. Perhaps like the late, great Paul Scofield, Lineker doesn’t want HRH to dub her sword on his shoulders. I wouldn’t know. But he seemed pretty happy on Friday, trying not to clash with Ian Poulter’s hot pink trousers. Talking of Knights errant. One man in his element in the ancient isle at the moment is former Tottenham Hotspur honcho, Sir Alan Sugar. In the British version of “The Apprentice,” he plays Donald Trump. And if the ratings are anything to go by, he’s not about to be fired, as the show is one of the most popular in the country and not even contemplating a celebrity “jump the shark” edition. It’s been a sour time for Fulham chairman Mohamed Al Fayed of late though. After sounding off recently in yet another Princess Diana death inquest, the Harrod’s owner gave a vote of confidence to Cottagers boss Roy Hodgson this week. The always-jingoistic British press seems incapable of giving the grief stricken father a mulligan, and greeted the Harrod’s owners statement with the headline: “Fulham On The Brink.” In the Land of Football someone is always on the brink of something. Manchester United on winning the EPL, Chelsea on signing Gareth Barry, and WAG lingerie model Abbey Clancy on marrying Peter Crouch. Which happy event will receive the most prominence in the British press? Do you really need to ask?