Back to the Classroom for Lessons Not Learnt

In just a few hours the game which will have a huge bearing on the future of football in this country kicks off. As usual, there are unlikely permutations which would allow England to progress with a draw, but basically, England need to win to get through to the last sixteen, and they need to win well to really get this world cup campaign back on track. Even a good win will not alter the feeling that 2010 is not going to be England’s year and, yet again, will stumble out limply within a couple of knock out rounds – at best.

As usual also, there will be the post mortems, the finding of a scape-goat to hang the nation’s angst onto and some more mindless optimism just before England embark on the Euro 2012 qualifying competition. Most people in football and knowledgeable supporters felt that there were grounds for optimism: we had the right manager and the world cup qualifying rounds went very well, and there had been an impressive win on German soil with an essentially England second XI. From the matches played since England’s only defeat in qualifying and especially the friendlies this year, it’s been downhill ever since.

Now press stories are circulating that irrespective of what happens, Don Fabio will be off, to be replaced by an Englishman, Roy Hodgson. There seems to be a pattern emerging here. Hire an expensive foreign manager, don’t give him the infrastructure and support to do his job properly, sack him amidst murmurings of disquiet over foreign managers, meanwhile continue to pay lip service to developing the game at lower levels and ignore the parlous state of football’s finances. Get another English manager, spurred on by the ‘little Englander’ media faction, and repeat process as before.

The truth is that millions of inches of column space and TV air time have been devoted to discussing where things go wrong and how to put them right. These have been discussed since England’s 1970 exit from the Mexican world cup. Managers have come and gone. Some were blatantly the wrong choice (Taylor, Keegan, Hoddle). Some were overlooked (Clough), but whatever and whoever the choice, RTG just can’t help coming back to the same conclusion: it’s yer basic raw talent, that’s the problem.

Clearly the ‘Golden Generation’ was totally oversold and optimistically assessed when coming through the ranks. Judging by the number of public relations gaffes that the current squad seem to be making, maybe they’re using the same PR outfit as Tony Hayward, BP’s beleaguered CEO! Let’s face it, most English footballers are pretty thick and even make a virtue of their gauche bling culture. When you see how most foreign players in England are better in English than many of their native counterparts and how English players abroad rarely pick up their local language, you realise how English players have largely ignored their off-field development. Indeed, reading an interview response by Jamie Redknapp, he boasted how his dad would encourage him to bunk off school to go training at Bournemouth.

What has resulted over the last forty years are successive generations of England players who are so singly dimensioned that you can’t really sense that any of them is going to read a game tactically and change things in real time on the field. They’ll just wait until half time and wait for the ‘hair-dyer’ treatment to be told what to do – that’s according to what all pundits say. And perhaps, RTG is finally coming to the nub of the problem. A failing education system in this country which rates the UK as one of the lowest in the developed world, allied to a celebrity culture which extols and promotes worthless people are taking their toll on our poorly educated footballing souls. Basically, England just can’t get clever players who have developed their minds to cope with adversity, to embrace change or to rationalise and deal with the pressures exerted on them by modern British society.

The Keeper

…it’s gone right through his hands

The Keeper has managed to prize himself away from his new HD TV (special offer at Tesco) to bring you his first report since the start of the World Cup. And what a week it’s been. After getting over the shock of seeing a Hyundai car drive on and score England’s first goal, the Keeper has maintained an almost permanent vigil in front of a festival of football – well, three football matches a day anyway and more of a village fete in the end than a festival. But surely the standard can only improve.

At the BBC it’s a case of recession, what recession? The Beeb seem to have upped sticks and headed mob handed over to South Africa for a last choo choo on the old gravy train before the cuts kick in. The Keeper entered into this televisual feast thinking that it was all about football but how wrong you can be. Chris Hollins has shown him that South Africa makes wine; two blokes who he’s never heard of are driving around in a bus to show that there are also exotic wild animals in South Africa and, favourite among favourites, Gabby Logan, reported live from the townships to show us that some poor people live in South Africa too, ‘you know’. What a shame that, when the Keeper wanted to learn something useful about football, all he had was Mick McCarthy, who, with the dourest of manner, sought only to repeat exactly what had just happened in full view on screen in a drab Yorkshire drawl - “Aw naw. Yer see ‘ees just missed t’pass and the chance of a counter by giving t’ball away again.” Yep, I just saw that Mick. Glad the licence fee is working hard for us over there. The Keeper’s viewing experience was also enhanced considerably by the presence of that doyen of football analysis, CBBC at Wayne Rooney’s live press conference when their incisive questioning revealed that, yes, he was missing his first born child.

The Keeper had serious reservations about the BBC’s choice of music to introduce Japan’s opening game against Cameroon – the soundtrack to ‘Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence’ which, for those who don’t know it, starred David Bowie as a rebellious PoW in a Japanese camp during the Second World War who dies a horrible death buried up to his neck in sand in the blazing heat of the day. Or, as Mick McCarthy would expertly summarise it: “Fer me ‘ees let isself down by getting ‘imself buried in t’sand up to ‘is neck and ‘ees 'anded the initiative right over t’ Japanese.” Aside from adding a huge oil slick to the fire of opinion that popstars can’t act to save their lives (see also Phil Collins in ‘Buster’, Mick Jagger in ‘Ned Kelly’), the film is a graphic illustration of the enormous cruelty exhibited by Japanese soldiers toward their captives in the appalling conditions of the PoW camps. The Keeper felt it was a rather lazy choice of music given the enlightened mood of friendliness and reconciliation of modern times (or pretend we do eh Major?) and perhaps one that should have been given a bit more thought by the BBC researcher as he sipped a glass of Stellenbosch Shiraz in his Cape Town hotel room.

The Keeper couldn’t get through his first World Cup report without mentioning the signature sound for the tournament, the vuvuzelas. Now, there have been rumblings afoot that certain viewers are not happy with the constant buzzing, resembling a swarm of angry bees, that provides the backing track to all the games. So much so in fact that there was talk of a Fifa ban on taking them into the stadium and the BBC (yes them again) were even prepared to offer a vuvuzela-free broadcast via the red button. The Keeper was astonished at this blatant disregard for the cultural heritage of the host nation. After all, what else is going to drown out the sound of that bloody awful brass band that insists on following England around?

There was more good news for the people of Southern Africa this week when it just happened that Princes Harry and Wills, who are known to love Africa ‘with a passion’, stopped by to do a bit of charity work in the region at the same time as the World Cup just happened to be taking place. What’s more, some ITV geezer just happened to have a couple of spares for the England match in Cape Town, where the Princes just happened to be at this point in their charity tour. Better start looking for a charity in Brazil in four years time, eh chaps?