Last week I went to Wembley – not for the first time, but
this was my first full England
international.
I have been to games at Old Wembley (most memorably, Watford’s 1999 play-off triumph) and this wasn’t even my
first experience of New Wembley (I’ve seen Saracens play there a couple of
times). In terms of England,
I’d previously seen schoolboy and under-21 internationals, and I have of course
seen the England
cricket team in action many times. But the full, senior-level England football team? This was a
first.
The opposition was the not-so-mighty San Marino, a minnow side ranked joint
208
th (ie. joint last) in the
FIFA rankings. England,
by the way, are 18
th. The domestic equivalent (based on league
positions at the time of the match) would be Newcastle United playing Harpenden
Town.
The final result could not possibly be in doubt; just about everyone going to
the game did not merely expect that England would win, they knew it (an unusual
experience for me to say the least; you just don’t get this sort of feeling on
the way to Watford games).
The question, therefore, was not would England win but by how many goals, and whether San Marino
might manage to defy expectations and get a consolation one for themselves.
This, after all, has happened before –
back
in 1993, they scored after just eight seconds; what everyone forgets is the
seven England went on to score, not that any of it mattered as we failed to
qualify for the 1994 World Cup.
Not that qualification for the 2016 European Championship is
going to be problematic, for the tournament has expanded to 24 places,
presumably to ensure that none of the big teams can ever fail to qualify.
England have been given the
easiest
of groups, from which qualification would be nigh-on impossible to screw up
– even for a side that did as badly as England did in the World Cup this
summer. In other words, my first England experience would be the
most predictable game in a predictable qualification group.
On the international stage, minnow teams like San Marino
seem to serve no discernible purpose other than to remind people of the variety
of countries that exist in this crazy world (FIFA, by the way, has more members
than the United Nations). Also, they can form the basis for humorous
travelogues like Charlie Connelly’s Stamping
Grounds and Tony Hawks’s Playing the
Moldovans at Tennis (quite why no-one’s done this with San Marino yet is a mystery to me).
It must, though, be pretty cool to be Sanmarinese, if only because (as I mused
in the pub before the game), the country has such a small population that any
man between the ages of 16 and 40 who’s half-decent at football would be in
with a shout of playing for the national team. This is the sort of national
team that is an argument in favour of some sort of pre-qualifying round for the
Euros and the World Cup.
Alighting at Wembley Park station, there were a few
desultory England chants, many kids excited at being taken to see England
(despite the following day being a school day) and the odd sight of people
draped in the light blue and white flag of the opposition. Among the usual
array of items on sale along Wembley
Way – scarves, badges, poorly-printed tee-shirts –
were half-and-half scarves. These are scarves in the colours of both teams playing; half in the white and navy (and red trim) of England, half in the blue and white of San Marino.
They also carried such important information as the venue (“Wembley – The Home
of Football”) and the date of the encounter. Something of a one-off souvenir,
then. They were, from what I could hear from the retailers, going for £10 each.
I don’t get half-and-half scarves. Why would anyone at a football
match want to wear something that includes the opposition’s colours? When,
exactly, did they become a feature of big games? And who buys them – neutrals
who can’t decide which team to support (unlikely), or people who want a
souvenir of that particular game? Is this the sort of thing that gets given to
the people in the corporate boxes along with the complimentary programme? Do
people collect half-and-half scarves from the matches they’ve been to in the same way
that people collect programmes?
Getting into the ground itself – a vast improvement on the
crumbling old edifice it replaced, it must be said – the atmosphere felt
strangely flat, and that wasn’t just because the bars in the stadium were not
serving alcohol due to a UEFA rule of some sort.
That’s right – there was no beer.
Usually, for football matches in England there is a ruling about the
sale of alcoholic beverages which would strike many attendees of other
spectator sports (or of football matches in other countries) as odd. This rule
states that you cannot consume your booze within view of the pitch – you have
to consume it while standing in the crowd by the bar, which isn’t great (I have
on occasions flouted this rule by bringing a hip-flask with me, which also breaks
the rule about smuggling booze into the ground). Also, it is a proven fact that beer
sold inside sports venues is hideously over-priced. Even so, not serving beer
at all strikes me as somehow wrong.
This being 2014, I complained about this on Twitter. To my
surprise, someone I’ve never met ‘favourited’ my tweet. Note to self: Using
hashtags on Twitter really does work.
Rather surprisingly, the ground itself was more than half-full;
a total of 55,900 people had come to see the match. It didn’t feel like that,
though. I cannot help but think that this was the sort of game that would have
been better held at a smaller venue; there are, of course, numerous arguments
for having England games at various venues throughout the country, and I think
that would be a very good idea, but this notion is of course trumped by the
fact that the FA is still paying off the money it blew on rebuilding Wembley.
Money comes first.
Being behind one of the goals, I and my fellow-England fans
each had a small, plain white banner tied to our seats with an elastic band.
These, we were informed, were to be held up when the band (one of the Guards
regiments, no less) played the National Anthem so that our end of the ground
would look like a giant Cross of St George. This would inspire the team and
look good on the telly. It might’ve worked, too, had the band not played a
setting of the National Anthem that was almost unrecognisable. We in the stands
didn’t even realise they were playing God
Save the Queen until about half-way through!
The atmosphere struggled to get going as England made a few
desultory efforts against San Marino’s defence-heavy outfit (this is a team
that, having only scored 19 goals in their 24-year existence, has largely
forsaken attack in favour of as many defenders as possible; a legacy of their
having to play every game against teams hoping to score seven or eight times).
Down to our right, a middle-aged bald man shed his shirt and tried his best to
gee everyone up with a couple of repetitive chants. Some joined in, others made
adverse comments about the size of his beergut. Still, his rendition of God Save the Queen was more in tune than
that of the Guards band.
The deadlock was finally broken after 25 minutes, and from
thereon it really was a question of how many goals would England score (five, in the end).
That said, one (the first) was scored after their goalie got bundled over (I’ve
seen goals disallowed for less), another was a penalty and one of the ones in
the second half was an own goal. England,
of course, dominated play but I reckoned the best player out there was the
busiest; the San Marino
goalie, an accountant called
Aldo
Simoncini. But for him, they goal tally could’ve been in double figures.
Maybe it was the predictability of the encounter, but I
found it hard to motivate myself to cheer on the team. I could understand why
some supporters opted to ironically cheer the rare San Marino expedition into
England’s half of the pitch, and cheer loudly whenever Joe Hart got the ball
(he, apparently,
won
the online vote for man of the match, receiving 63% of the vote; Jack
Wilshere, who was declared man of the match by the ITV commentators, got 11% in
the same poll, in which one presumably could not vote for opposition players).
At one point there was more interest in the obligatory Mexican wave (which went
round the ground three times) than in the events on the pitch. A few blokes
even stood up to applaud when a Sanmarinese player got substituted late in the
game; I don’t recall that happening with the England substitutions.
Despite the large crowd (not large by Wembley standards, of
course, but at 55,990 it was still more than the capacity of most Premier
League grounds), the atmosphere felt flat. We’d expected England to win,
and we’d got that. But I couldn’t help but think that there was something
missing. Evidently, I prefer football matches where I can’t comfortably predict
the outcome in advance.
As I queued for some post-match chips on Wembley Way while everyone else streamed
towards the Tube station, I heard the guys selling the half-and-half scarves trying to
flog them at half-price. There were few takers.