Following the England football team’s recent draw with Algeria, I must admit to a wry smile. If ever there was the most dramatic illustration of the triumph of blind optimism over harsh reality, it is the regular international footballing extravaganzas where we see the same tired display played out for our delight.
Prior to the start, supporters are full of bluster – and remind us again about 1966 (*did something happen then?). During the inevitable failure of the players to live up to expectations, reality sets in and the recriminations begin.
Finally, the manager gets sacked or resigns.
Here we go, here we go, here we go… Again…
For me, England going out in the group stages will merely mean marginally less enthusiastic wall-to-wall coverage. No, I don’t care who wins.
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*Actually, something did happen in 1966. I enjoyed a wonderful holiday in Polperro with my parents and sisters. Much enjoyment was had fishing in rockpools for crabs and shrimps.
Miserable sod 😉
Actually, I find it all highly amusing. Predictable, but amusing. Why, shouldn’t I? 😉
I was out walking during that particular match. As I returned down the track towards the village where I parked my car, the first soul I’d seen all night came the other way on what was obviously a post-match dog walk. His miserable demeanour and greeting (this is Yorkshire, people here normally greet each other properly) told me everything I needed to know about the unsurprising result.
You cracked before I did! My blog is still untouched (by the hand of God).