It’s difficult to detach the World Cup from patriotism, even among the most disenfranchised of citizens
By Bruce Dowbiggin
CALGARY – SPORTS – The penetrating question of the 2018 World Cup of soccer is: Why do the large, powerful nations have short national anthems while the smaller countries have ones that go on forever?
God Save the Queen (England) is over faster than you can say Bobby Charlton. But songs of Iceland and Peru seem more like six-part Netflix series than anthems.
That said, it’s difficult to detach soccer from patriotism. To wit, the comments this week of Gareth Southgate – latest in the lineage of English managers who have mostly presided over failure at the World Cup and the European championships. Southgate got his knickers in a knot when some of his keen strategies in Russia were reported by the British press.
Now if the English team had shown the same evil genius as its own press corps has displayed over the decades, it might not be zero for 13 in its hunt for World Cup titles since 1966. (It’s been a similar drought in the Euro championships.) Fleet Street is pitiless in a way David Beckham, Wayne Rooney, and Kevin Keegan never were when presented with a chance to score. See: Maradona’s Hand Of God.
To Southgate, this press leak was akin to WikiLeaks printing the spying secrets of the U.S. The media, growled Southgate, has to decide whether it wants England to win or not. Implicit in this rant was the suggestion that, in an England torn by Brexit fears, we’re all in this together. Soccer or trade. While the marriage of team and media is implicit in certain nations, it was something of a brazen demand from Southgate in light of the hyper-independent press of the U.K.
The brouhaha quickly died down as Southgate made soothing noises to the denizens of the English press box. Mollified, Southgate’s team went out and pummelled Panama 6-1 to guarantee a spot in the next round. (Whether England beating up on the Panamanians will mean anything against next opponent Belgium remains to be seen.)
But the loyalty oath was a reminder that soccer is still a metaphor for politics. Author Franklin Foer did a nice examination of this theme in his book How Soccer Explains The World. He cited, among other things, sectarian violence in Ireland, gangster governance in the post-Yugoslavian Balkans and the bizarre tendency of Tottenham Hotspur FCand AFC Ajaxfans to borrow Jewish symbols and terminology to explain the world at certain times.
Foer concluded that soccer is a bulwark against globalization, one of the few symbols of national cohesion left. Soccer’s relevance remains very potent at the 2018 World Cup. Watching the devotion of, say, the Belgians, Brazilians, Senegalese, Saudis or French as they shout their national anthem, one can forget that their nations are tossed by violent political controversies.
Immigration, economic disruption and class resentments are tearing at the fabric of these countries – even as they are subsumed in the drama of soccer. The disenfranchised still sing for their football side.
The current World Cup appears like the whisper of a world order that has been held together by western values since the Second World War. The notion of democratizing the emerging world – the operating thought of George W. Bush’s bloody sojourn in Iraq – seems a distant signal. The reality today seems more like the failed nation-states of the Middle East teeming toward the European continent like King Alaric and the Visigoths pushing at Rome’s borders in the fourth century.
The debate over German Chancellor Angela Merkel opening the Syrian immigration spigot is a symptom of something more profound and threatening than can be cured by a lusty rendition of La Marseillaise or God Save the Queen. Yet soccer holds back the tempest that’s coming as surely as Harry Kane scoring hat-tricks for England.
The presence of the fabulously rich international stars like Kane is another telling aspect of this World Cup. We see the princely order of soccer aristocracy in Russia, ordered in their finery like the French nobility on the morning of Agincourt. To many in the failing nations of Africa, Asia or South America, soccer is their only ticket out of poverty and into relevance. In societies ridden with corruption and class structure, there is no more direct way to the salvation of riches and privilege than kicking or defending a soccer ball at the highest level.
This is the Neymar lottery, with appropriately absurd odds of cracking Brazil’s starting squad or lining up beside Messi in Argentina’s starting 11. And yet they buy the ticket. This acting against their own interests is an appeal to ancient blood, the tribal current. As the ball settles in the back of a net, no one is programming software or inventing a cure for cancer.
These are the fantasies of the desperate played against a field of dreams. Singing anthems to myths they no longer believe in nations they no longer recognize.
They are screaming at the top of their lungs, “I matter, I count, I am alive.”
Columnist Bruce Dowbiggin career includes successful stints in television, radio, and print. A two-time winner of the Gemini Award as Canada’s top television sports broadcaster, he is also the publisher of Not The Public Broadcaster.
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