How I won the World Cup (from the comfort of my sofa)

A nostalgic look back at sports games of the past.

I don't like to boast but, in my time, I've scored a goal in the World Cup Final, got a hole-in-one at St Andrews and beat Roger Federer on a grass court. That's because, in the virtual world, it doesn't matter if you have two left feet, so long as your thumbs are in tip-top condition.

Sports computer games have been around pretty much since the beginning of the medium and even though real-world sport completely passes me by, I've played a surprising amount of it from my sofa.

The first video game I ever played was a cricket simulator, its code lovingly typed from a computer magazine into my older brother's ZX Spectrum.
The gameplay was not thrilling: after spending what seemed like an age debating where to put your fielders -- what if I went crazy and just played everyone in the slips? -- you got to the match.

The bowler did his run-up, the ball-pixel whistled across the green-and-white screen and then the moment of truth came . . . "Run (Y/N)?" Edge-of-the-seat stuff.

In the early days of home computing, developers had a crack at making titles around some unlikely sports. World Games on the Commodore 64 allowed you to prove yourself at log-rolling and sumo wrestling (sadly not at the same time), while an entire generation ruined their wrists through the frantic waggling of the joystick required to triumph in Daley Thompson's Decathalon. (To this day, my house mate James claims to have invented a new and better way of playing this. He is unwilling to reveal his secret, save that it involved a sock.)

Daley's success kicked off a lucrative trend for popular sportsmen -- and, occasionally, women -- to lend their names to games. There was Mike Tyson's Punch-Out!! (yes, with two exclamation marks) on the Nintendo, from the pre-ear-chomp era; it featured some pretty brisk racial stereotyping, although at least the Russian boxer called "Vodka Drunkenski" earlier in the Punch Out!! series had been changed to "Soda Popinski". He still did a Cossack dance, though. And sparred alongside a Spaniard called Don Flamenco and a German called Von Kaiser.

There was more innocent fun to be had in Graham Gooch's Cricket, which was followed by Brian Lara Cricket; while the modern era has Tiger Woods PGA Tour, released every year since 1998 with the grim inevitability of a tax return. You might ask if golf changes drastically enough in 12 months to justify EA trying to charge you £49.99 for an updated version. But that's why you'll never succeed as a games publisher -- because they sell extremely well, even since Tiger's unfortunate stumble in the rough. The latest version boasts a "sumptuous and flexible" control scheme, so there's that.

Champing at the bit

The most popular sport in video-game land, unsurprisingly, is football. And what is the best football game? The popular vote right now would go to Fifa, another EA mega-brand, which has overtaken Pro Evolution Soccer to sit on top of the charts like . . . well, Arsenal? (Or was it the other lot?)

Most gamers over 25, meanwhile, will have a special place in their heart for 1994's Sensible Soccer -- "Sensi" -- which was so good that it was placed in a canon of ten games worth preserving for posterity at Stanford University.

I've dabbled in both of these but they were a bit too footbally for my liking. My choice would be the magnificently epic Championship Manager series.

If you love statistics, you'll love "Champ Man", which puts you in charge of a team of low-grade layabouts and challenges you to skilfully navigate the transfer market to craft them into a world-beating force.

I discovered it during my final year at university, and -- given that the alternative to guiding Ibrahima Bakayoko and team-mates to European glory was translating Piers Plowman -- it might be that I can't make an objective assessment. But I have to tell you, in the closing seconds of the final, when the screen flashed "GOAL!", there was a moment when I thought: oh, this sport thing. This is what everyone sees in it.

Helen Lewis is deputy editor of the New Statesman. She has presented BBC Radio 4’s Week in Westminster and is a regular panellist on BBC1’s Sunday Politics.

This article first appeared in the 01 August 2011 issue of the New Statesman, The rise of the far right

Getty Images.
Show Hide image

The problems with ending encryption to fight terrorism

Forcing tech firms to create a "backdoor" to access messages would be a gift to cyber-hackers.

The UK has endured its worst terrorist atrocity since 7 July 2005 and the threat level has been raised to "critical" for the first time in a decade. Though election campaigning has been suspended, the debate over potential new powers has already begun.

Today's Sun reports that the Conservatives will seek to force technology companies to hand over encrypted messages to the police and security services. The new Technical Capability Notices were proposed by Amber Rudd following the Westminster terrorist attack and a month-long consultation closed last week. A Tory minister told the Sun: "We will do this as soon as we can after the election, as long as we get back in. The level of threat clearly proves there is no more time to waste now. The social media companies have been laughing in our faces for too long."

Put that way, the plan sounds reasonable (orders would be approved by the home secretary and a senior judge). But there are irrefutable problems. Encryption means tech firms such as WhatsApp and Apple can't simply "hand over" suspect messages - they can't access them at all. The technology is designed precisely so that conversations are genuinely private (unless a suspect's device is obtained or hacked into). Were companies to create an encryption "backdoor", as the government proposes, they would also create new opportunities for criminals and cyberhackers (as in the case of the recent NHS attack).

Ian Levy, the technical director of the National Cyber Security, told the New Statesman's Will Dunn earlier this year: "Nobody in this organisation or our parent organisation will ever ask for a 'back door' in a large-scale encryption system, because it's dumb."

But there is a more profound problem: once created, a technology cannot be uninvented. Should large tech firms end encryption, terrorists will merely turn to other, lesser-known platforms. The only means of barring UK citizens from using the service would be a Chinese-style "great firewall", cutting Britain off from the rest of the internet. In 2015, before entering the cabinet, Brexit Secretary David Davis warned of ending encryption: "Such a move would have had devastating consequences for all financial transactions and online commerce, not to mention the security of all personal data. Its consequences for the City do not bear thinking about."

Labour's manifesto pledged to "provide our security agencies with the resources and the powers they need to protect our country and keep us all safe." But added: "We will also ensure that such powers do not weaken our individual rights or civil liberties". The Liberal Democrats have vowed to "oppose Conservative attempts to undermine encryption."

But with a large Conservative majority inevitable, according to polls, ministers will be confident of winning parliamentary support for the plan. Only a rebellion led by Davis-esque liberals is likely to stop them.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

0800 7318496