Cambridge United competed against Gateshead in the 2014 National League play-off Final. Ian Miller, our center-back, fell with a broken ankle with four minutes remaining and us leading 2-1. We had exhausted all of our substitutes.
The official administered 10 minutes of injury time. TEN MINUTES. It seemed roughly a year. As the clock struck 99 minutes, Gateshead sent a header narrowly wide. My voice had gone. I had difficulty breathing. The relief felt at the last whistle is nearly indescribable.
Every fan is familiar with the agonizing knot of nerves that extends beyond the abdomen. It is overwhelming and comprehensive. There is nothing else that can provide this escapism — you are entirely immersed at the moment – yet it is difficult to determine whether or not it is enjoyable.
For men’s international football tournaments, my dull ache often begins the morning of England’s first game and lasts until whichever tragic exit strategy we’ve selected.
All those walking to the location of the penalty Pearce, Batty, Southgate, and Saka are members of the following teams: The outstretched boot of Gazza. Waddle striking the goalpost. This Argentinian is blocking a specific Lineker equalizer.
The Euro 2020 final seemed like a defining moment; I was nearly paralyzed by nerves before the match. I had always pondered how I would react, win or lose if England reached a major final. It was extremely low-key. The following morning, I was already over it.
Perhaps the prior events at Wembley Stadium had tainted it. Maybe I’m not as fanatical as I believed. Perhaps working in football has diminished some of its mystique. Maybe it’s just because I’m getting older.
This Sunday represents another opportunity for many England supporters to win their first big title. In the days preceding up to the game, we may repeatedly view Alessia Russo’s backheel and Georgia Stanway’s thunderbolt, but an hour before the match versus Germany, I wonder if the same jitters will set in.
They are not under your control and have not yet debuted in this tournament. The English have swept me away. I enjoy watching them, but with ten minutes remaining against Spain, when we had been outplayed, I didn’t feel the same anguish I did in 2018 when Croatia was supposedly fatigued versus the men. Before the semifinal against Sweden, I was entirely at ease.
I agonized about the reason why it felt different to me. Is it due to the misogyny that is ingrained in my subconscious? A result of growing up in the 1980s and 1990s, when the idea of women playing football was considered absurd?
The boys kicked a shot size five around the grassy triangle on Tenison Road, while the girls conversed and listened to the Levellers or the Cure while sitting outside. If one of them returned the ball to us, it would be an event
Positive: My four-month-old son, who is currently sleeping on the floor in front of me, will not develop a bad perception of women’s football. For him, this will be the usual. He will probably not continually compare the women’s and men’s games.
And perhaps these parallels are unnecessary. I sympathize with those who follow the women’s game every week and are forced to read pieces like this one, which may oversimplify women’s football or attempt to make a grand statement about what each result signifies.
However, football viewing is a constant comparison. It is only natural for those of us who are ingrained in the men’s game to compare every match we observe to the one before it. If someone scores off the crossbar, I shout “Tony Yeboah” before the ball hits the top of the net.
And there are aspects of this euro that are refreshing, such as referees receiving less abuse, fewer truly dangerous challenges, and the absence of that “small minority” of spectators booing the knee or chanting about human misery. It would be odd to observe this competition without noticing the distinctions.
As a casual observer, I may be doing severe harm to the women’s game. Perhaps Wembley Way on Sunday will resemble a doped-up Caravaggio, complete with flares, arses, and stormed barricades.
And this is not to disparage every aspect of men’s soccer — this is not an either/or situation. Both are entertaining, which is the objective, even though neither is flawless. Why can’t we, like Messi and Ronaldo, enjoy both?
Above all else, as Ian Wright so eloquently stated after the Sweden match, this must result in more opportunities for girls to play. Only 63 percent of schools offer girls’ football in physical education classes, and only 40 percent of schools offer females regular extracurricular football.
There are friends and coworkers for whom this championship is the culmination of years of sacrifice, hardship, and passion for the women’s game. I have the highest hopes that England will succeed. I am delighted to join this bandwagon and, most importantly, to stay on it. And if the Germans win, we will receive at least one more sorrowful montage.
