Two quarter-finals, a semi-final and two finals – not a bad return for a 13 year-old England fan. If England do win tonight against Spain in the European Championships, then that ‘not bad’ turns into fantastic! My daughter (Freida, 13), would not have witnessed all these occasions, or at least remembered them, but it made me think of my own miserable record as an England fan bridging the same life-span.
That night in October 1973 when Poland drew 1-1 with England at Wembley, ending our World Cup qualifying campaign, I cried. In fact I had been crying most of the day. Had I premonition that the Polish goalkeeper, Jan Tomaszewski was going to perform such heroics? No, I had a urinary infection. I was nearly a month old. Concerned for me, my dad parked the cot in the living room.
I spent some time in hospital, but made a full recovery within weeks. For England, their recovery took a lot longer. Failing to qualify for the 1976 European Championship finals in Yugoslavia, (well, there were only four teams!) and the 1978 World Cup finals in Argentina, meant lean times for the England fans. I was too young to notice, fortunately.
My first memory of an England match was in May 1979, when we defeated Scotland 3-1 at Wembley. I watched the game in a holiday camp in St. Margaret’s Bay, Dover. I recall sitting in a stark room that was more akin to a doctor’s surgery. I sensed it was populated with old people, but being only 5 at the time, most people were. For me, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience. Even Keegan’s one-two and then clash with George Wood for the third, couldn’t appease me. For years I had put that down to not watching it in the comfort of my own living room where I would dart off outside into the garden and reconstruct the goal I had just seen. It was not until about five or six years’ ago that my dad mentioned that he wasn’t present with me that day. My grandad had died two days earlier. Dad stayed at home whilst my mum and our friends had travelled down to Kent. Although I remember being told along with my sister that my grandad had died when we arrived home from school on that previous Thursday, I hadn’t made the connection with that trip just 48 hours later.
By 1979, I was a football nut. I had attended my first Fulham league match at the Cottage, and bought my first Panini album, Football 80 which I was obsessed about. The next England game I can fully recall watching was against Italy in the Euro Championships. My dad and I watched the game in the living room, lights off. The room lit up by the glow of the TV. I was transfixed by Roberto Bettega. How could this silver-haired geriatric be so formidable? (Bettega was 29 at the time). Tardelli scored late. Italy won 1-0. Hoping it would act as some consolation for my dad, I told him that my teacher, Mrs Ceruzzi, would have a happy husband… I’m not sure it helped.
The qualifying campaign for España 82 was now underway. I was at a friend’s for the Romania defeat in October 1980. He wasn’t so into football but I persuaded him to watch it. The pictures transmitted from Bucharest weren’t great. Too bright, fuzzy. England’s performance was no better. We lost 2-1.
I did not go abroad until I was 15. For the first 7-8 years of my life my parents would take my sister and I to the aforementioned Dover annually. Tantalisingly close to the continent, I would sit on the cliffs and look at the ferries depart, wishing I was onboard. Other countries seemed so intriguing, so mysterious. None so than Budapest.
The 6th June 1981. Népstadion, Budapest. Hungary 1 England 3. The late great Brian Moore described the atmosphere in the stadium as hostile. Apart from the wonderful, un-animated, “Oh, brilliant” from co-commentator, John Bond, Trevor Brooking‘s 19th minute opener was met with silence. I’d be interested to know how many England fans made the trip. Brooking’s iconic second, where the ball got stuck in the unorthodox Hungarian goal design was incredibly memorable to this 7 year-old. The injustice of our third – never a penalty – didn’t matter. This curious, antagonistic land would become my home for two years in the late 2000s. We lived around a ten-minute walk from the stadium. I am a Magyarphile, but ultimately an Englishman.
It was in the reverse fixture at Wembley, a 1-0 win courtesy of one of my heroes, Paul Mariner, that England stumbled across the line, qualifying for the World Cup in 1982, albeit in second place. This was the first time we had qualified for the World Cup since 1962! The following summer was going to be fun.
Some days after that first victory against Hungary, I joined my cousin’s football team on a trip to Wembley. The occasion being England v West Germany, a Schools International for The Dentyne Trophy. The players that eventually made it included, Neil Aldridge, Neil McDonald, Chelsea‘s, Keith Jones and David Kerslake and Andy Sinton of QPR. Pre-match ‘entertainment’ was a sing along with Ed ‘Stewpot’ Stewart. A mixture of cub/scout songs and 1970s’ AOR, Sailing (Rod Stewart) and Mull of Kintyre (Paul McCartney and Wings). Know your target audience! England lost 2-0. Yet another trophy for the West German’s following the ’74 World Cup and ’80 Euros successes.
June 1982. A World Cup summer! The euphoria of our opening 3-1 defeat of France, including Robson’s sub 30-second goal – which I tried to replicate in the garden immediately – was never sustained. Will Keegan make a return? He did, but the aging squad went out, albeit undefeated.
We then failed to qualify for the Euros in 1984. The limited highlights leading up to this foundering included a 9-0 win against Luxembourg and beating Brazil away 2-0 with an incredible dribble from John Barnes. I remember at half-time a Nike commercial that referenced the fixture. Brazil 0 England 10. It felt like a first, almost like the betting companies do now when they show the latest odds. I’ve never managed to see that advert again despite some half-hearted attempts on YouTube.
World Cup, Mexico 1986. The time difference meant that my viewing of matches was restricted (well the first one was). My dad watched the Portugal game alone. I asked him to leave a note by my bed so I would know the score when I woke up. Portugal 1 England 0. I was distraught. I was too young for Eusebio and hadn’t taken great notice of the Euros in 1984 due to the lack of TV coverage in the UK. Portugal? Really?
I was allowed to sleep in my folks bed for the Morocco game. My mum was despatched to my bed. Very forgettable other than Ray Wilkins‘ sending off for allegedly throwing the ball in a rage at the official. He later commented that if he had intended to hit the ref with the ball, he would’ve done. With his c-bomb off camera some years later, describing Ronald Koeman – Butch really was a character of the English game. He is sorely missed. RIP Ray.
We salvaged our campaign with an easy win against Poland. Lineker‘s wrist heavily strapped. A comfortable win against Paraguay meant we were at the dizzying heights of a World Cup quarter-final against Argentina. Pre-match, I went with my cousin to the local rec. Not much was said as the nerves were kicking in. We returned home. I laid horizontally on my stomach in front of the screen. Admittedly, Maradona’s Hand of God was missed by me the first time. Not so much on the rest of the family who were incensed. His second was pure genius as we all know. We got one back, and shortly after, in an almost identical move involving a John Barnes’ cross from the left I howled as I thought Lineker had snatched an equaliser. The camera angle had deceived me. My football dreams ruined. To add to this, Fulham would be starting the new campaign in August back in the third tier.
Ultimately, if England fail to win tonight, Freida will join me in witnessing England failure in her first thirteen years despite closer attempts. We may well know, seven hours from now.
My First Thirteen Years (1973-1986)
World Cup: Failed to qualify; Failed to qualify; 2nd round; QF.
European Championships: Failed to qualify; 1st round; Failed to qualify.
Freida’s First Thirteen Years (2011-2024)
World Cup: 1st round; SF; QF.
European Championships: QF; 2nd round; Finalist; Finalist*
*Game tonight