If England are enjoying relative success in any tournament, the moment arrives when it is necessary to retell the story of King Canute. Now, as England approach a third semi-final in four tournaments, all the while being castigated as undeserving chancers riding the crest of a hundred lucky breaks, that time has come.
Here goes. Canute the Great, to afford him his full title, was King of England from 1016, of England and Denmark from 1018, and of England, Denmark and Norway from 1028. Bits of Scotland and Sweden, too, although they proved harder to keep. Either way, he ruled what we now call the North Sea Empire.
Canute was a fine strategist, as proven by his many conquests, a skilful politician, shown in his successful negotiations with the Holy Roman Empire, and a wise man. Tiring of the flattery of his courtiers and their belief in royal deity, he ordered them to take his throne to the water, where he would sit and command the tide to retreat. On feeling his legs soaked, Canute rose from his seat and told his followers to observe “how empty and worthless is the power of kings, for there is none worthy of the name, but He whom heaven, earth, and sea obey by eternal laws”. The story is told that he then hung his gold crown on a crucifix and never wore it again.
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So, naturally, in England we are taught he was a mad old loon, who actually believed he could command the sea and sat like a wally up to his neck in it, without so much as a rubber ring. That’s what we do. Even if we’re smart, even if we’re successful, we pick at it until we find, or invent, that thread of failure. Although, admittedly he actually spelt his name Cnut, so you could argue he got away with one.
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The other great worth recalling is Alfred. Reformed and modernised tax and the military, law and education, and encouraged teaching in English, not Latin, to make it more accessible. Won important battles against the Vikings, conquering London and being declared king of the Anglo-Saxons. And all this, probably, with what we now call Crohn’s disease. How is he written up? As a bad Bake Off contestant, owing to an unfortunate incident while strategy planning in hiding. When his statue was unveiled in Winchester in 1901, schoolchildren were given cakes to celebrate. It’s almost as if we can’t handle successful people. Don’t get them, don’t trust them, don’t know what to do with them. Shakespeare didn’t write his plays, you know. The entire country was built on slavery, and The Beatles’ White Album is rubbish.
It’s the same at this tournament. If England were Germany we’d be in awe. Look at the Germans, we’d say, playing lousy and in the semi-finals. Why can’t we be like that? And then when we are like that, we’re furious. Why can’t we play well? Look at Germany, playing well, getting knocked out. Why can’t we be like that?
In 2001 England beat Germany 5-1, in Munich. Then, less than a year later, Germany reached the World Cup final, while England exited in the quarter-finals. See, the Germans, they always find a way through, we said admiringly. Yes, and that way was Paraguay, United States and South Korea in the knockout stages, while England ended up playing Brazil. And that was England’s fault, for coming second in the group, but the spin was German brilliance. Getting a misfiring team, somehow, to hit the target.
Yet isn’t that what England have learnt to do? Tight at the back, finding those moments that make a difference. Everything that we envied, we have become. Yet we’re still not happy. Even if England win, decades from now Southgate will be portrayed as some Johnny English type, saving the day by accident with all the real work done behind the scenes by the long-suffering Dutch genius Jimmy Floyd Hasselbaink. Are all countries like this, or is it just us that are the Canutes?
Taylor-made refereeing inconsistencies
Uefa appears to love English refereeing teams, which is puzzling because a personal opinion is that most tournaments would be best served replacing the opening ceremony with their formal deportation and exile, but there you go. Anyway, it will be interesting to observe next season whether Anthony Taylor is consistent in his handball rulings, considering what he failed to give when Germany played Spain.
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Fouls, too — because he allowed Toni Kroos to kick Pedri out, not just of the game, but the competition, without even a caution. It happened early, when English referees are conditioned to let the game flow. But Germany didn’t want it to flow. They wanted to boot Spain while they had the chance. It was a deliberate tactic, not nervous enthusiasm, which Taylor missed completely, and Pedri became the collateral damage.
Still, at least Taylor has never been part of a match-fixing conspiracy, which puts him one up on the referee of England’s semi-final, Felix Zwayer. The details of the case are very different to the broad headlines, mind, because the young Zwayer appears to have been sucked in by a more experienced official, was paid a mere €200 (now £169) for a minor role, did nothing dishonest in the affected game, and felt so guilty he turned the prime conspirator in to the authorities and gave evidence against him. As a result Zwayer’s part was never made public, his six-month ban only revealed by a newspaper much later in his career after he had made it from lowly linesman to Bundesliga referee. It was not held against him.
That was in Germany, however. Quite how Zwayer has also advanced up Uefa’s greasy pole is a mystery, given his past. It really shouldn’t be impossible to find a referee to take charge of a European Championship semi-final who hasn’t been banned for corruption.
Sneering connoisseurs have little room to talk
The rest of Europe are laughing at England in this tournament, apparently. Laughing at the lousy football and the angst it is producing. Bad ratings in L’Équipe, sneers in Marca. Who cares? We greatly overstate the importance of foreign football writing in this country, desperate to be loved and respected by these apparent connoisseurs. “A Shakespeare tragedy,” said De Telegraaf, of England’s win over Switzerland. How so? Apart from a little of Hamlet’s procrastination and the regicide represented by calls to drop Harry Kane, what unfolded was in its way a triumph. We worry too much about what everyone else thinks. This has not been a great tournament for aesthetics. With the exception of Spain, much of the criticism that can be levelled at England just about applies to every team here.
Target men are back, like it or lump it
Some years ago, on a Sunday morning TV show with Jimmy Hill, our host was bemoaning the England manager’s failure to select a proper target man in his latest squad. There was no little pushback. The game had moved on. Jimmy was living in the past. “Do you think, Jim,” I responded, “that Brazil ever pick their 23 and then someone says, ‘Oh no — we’ve only forgotten the big lump. You can’t go to a World Cup without a big lump up front.’” He always took our facetious interjections in good part. Nice man, Jim.
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But time has proved him right. Since then Brazil have gone with plenty of big lumps up front, with fitting names like Fred and Hulk. And out here, even among the sophisticates of Europe, plan B for both Germany and Holland has been the introduction of Niclas Fullkrug and Wout Weghorst. It might be arrowed rather than hoofed by a player in that famous oranje shirt, but that’s still a bloke who couldn’t cut it at Burnley up front, and even if it’s Kroos putting it in the mixer, that doesn’t make it subtle.
Southgate’s friend for life in Trippier
Were England to make their first European Championship final on foreign soil, one of the absolute heroes of the campaign would be Kieran Trippier. He shouldn’t have been playing deep into the competition, as Luke Shaw acknowledged this week. Shaw was meant to be back earlier, before the end of the group stage, and Trippier would have been eased out. Instead, he has started all five games, on what may be termed the wrong side, because Shaw suffered an injury setback. As such, Trippier has come in for a lot of harsh criticism for holding up England’s forward play, as if this was his fault and not a situation forced upon him.
Judging by the headlines, Trippier may be having a difficult time in his personal life, too. Yet he does his job, always to his best, never complains, and those performances have taken England to a semi-final. It may be that he makes way for Shaw now, it may be he holds the fort again. Either way, it has been a selfless shift. He may not have got much thanks for it on the phone-ins and message boards, he may not have been recognised by the sages of L’Équipe, but there is not a manager alive who would not acknowledge what Trippier has given to this team. He will have a friend for life in Gareth Southgate, and in 25 squad-mates too.
Bielsa back doing what he does best
Uruguay have always had good players. Too often, though, they have been directed to win in unpleasant ways. Biting, bruising, the limits of physicality and fair play. They treated Luis Suárez’s expulsion from the 2014 World Cup for sinking his teeth into an opponent — again — as if it was an international conspiracy orchestrated by Fifa and the English media. And now Marcelo Bielsa is their manager. At this year’s Copa America Uruguay have played the best football, beaten the United States in Kansas City, emerged from their group with a 100 per cent record and then eliminated Brazil on penalties in the knockout stages.
And while those good players remain — Federico Valverde of Real Madrid and Liverpool’s Darwin Núñez are in the team — on the field against Brazil were two players from the Mexican league, and team-mates from relegated Granada in Spain and unfancied Cagliari. The club with most representatives, four, was Flamengo of Brazil. So this is about Bielsa and what he is, once again, extracting from a disparate group of players. What a unique talent he possesses.
