The faintest sniff of victory - and the footie cliché gets forgotten
Halfway through England's game with Russia, I decided to go and get an evening paper before the second half started, knowing that straight after the game, I was going to watch Scotland-Georgia. As I was rushing out of the door, I thought hmm, might as well post Wayne's birthday card. My young friend was going to be 22 on 24 October. I'd written the card already, but as I rushed to the post I added a PS: "Great goal against Russia."
And so it was. In the 28th minute, Michael Owen, of all people, had won a header. Wayne took it on his chest and volleyed it over the Russian goalie. At that moment, England were cruising, Russia were all over the place, how could they not win, now they'll definitely get into the Euro finals.
And then, oh my God, in the second half, Wayne of all people gave away that stupid penalty, Robbo ballsed up a save, and that was it - England had suffered another humiliating and probably fatal defeat.
Then I remembered what I'd written on my card. I rushed to the postbox, but it had been emptied. How stupid I'd been. All that anyone, most of all Wayne, will ever remember of that awful game against Russia will be his penalty, not his goal. Why had I not waited until it was over?
Looking back, I think England were not quite as in control as I had told myself at half-time. Looking back, I see they had missed some easy chances. Looking back, I should have realised they might prove costly. Looking back, we are all dead clever, looking back.
The thing about football, and any live sport, is that you never know. Which, of course, is why we watch it. Because we don't know the outcome. Favourites can collapse, underdogs play brilliantly, even though, on the whole, neither will happen. But it might, just might.
Millions watched the Rugby World Cup final knowing South Africa were the better team, better organised, always make fewer mistakes, are ace at line-outs, and yet hoping England could somehow triumph.
Extreme turnarounds happen quite often in football. A team playing shit in the first half, so you can hardly believe they are in the same league, with the commentators already giving the other side the three points, can miraculously raise their game in the second half and even begin to dominate. It is rare in any game for the rubbish side not to have their moments. Which usually they don't take, being the rubbish side, but now and again they do.
So why didn't I think of that, when I congratulated Wayne on his wonder goal? You'd have thought the thousands of hours I've put in watching football these past six decades would have taught me something, given me a bit of wisdom or at least caution. What a dummy.
Managers know this. You often catch them in a lather on the bench, arms waving, lips frothing, when apparently all is going well, but they've seen signs of weakness or stupidity, defenders striking, strikers getting lax, an opposition player suddenly making headway. They know it's not over till it's over. We naive, wildly optimistic fans take things at face value, telling ourselves it's in the bag. You see them in the stands, in the pubs, over-celebrating, being triumphant.
We know, because we all know football's clichés, that we should expect the unexpected, but we don't believe it, preferring to expect things to go on as they are, now we're ahead. Players can be equally naive, which is often why the trouble starts. Oh, what fools we all are. We don't know what's coming. As in life itself . . .
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