Why I shall cheer on England tonight, even if Harry Kane and his men aren’t so merry

I am uniquely unqualified to give any insight into the game of football that takes place in Rome, later this evening, for two reasons. First, I was a useless player of the game, spending my childhood struggling from calamity to calamity as a hapless goalkeeper. Second, whenever I put money behind any type of prediction on the beautiful game, bookmakers across the land jump with joy. So I approached the task imposed on me by the editor — to write a curtain-raiser for the quarter-final of the Euros between England and Ukraine at the Stadio Olimpico — with some trepidation.

However, I do feel compelled to celebrate this group of men (boys in some cases) that make up the England national football team. Indeed, I think they represent all that is good about the “snowflake” generation.

If you were to depict my generation, now in our forties, in the form of a footballer, then you would have to opt for Paul Gascoigne, the crackerjack of British football. He was great value, with never a dull moment. Drink, women, vulnerability. In the 1990s, he seemed to have it all, but now cuts a slightly tragic figure, addicted to everything from booze to plastic surgery. This was the generation that created the politics of Blair and Cameron. At our best, we spread fun and creativity around the world. At our worst, we are drunks polishing turds.

If you want to depict my parents’ generation, then it has got to be the late Jack Charlton. A stalwart defender, he had none of the flair of Gazza (unlike his younger brother Bobby, a midfielder of genius) but “Big Jack” was celebrated for his earthy beer-and-cigarettes image and exemplified a very British working-class grit in the post-war age. He was a thoroughly kind and genuine man to those he got on with, but would forgive his enemies slowly, if ever. He carried a black book full of names of those he thought had crossed him. This meant he defined himself by what and whom he was against, perhaps reflecting the fact that he grew up during the war.

Looking at the current crop of players, it is probably Harry Kane, the England captain, who reflects his generation. This is no Gazza who will burn bright, only to fade away. He is measured, decent and very slightly boring. No fast women and drink: at 27 years old he is happily married to his childhood sweetheart with two daughters.

Kane works hard. This is a man who gets every ounce of talent out of his body. The players in the England team have just been through their harshest sporting years thanks to the pandemic, not to mention competing in the Premier League, which is universally regarded as the most competitive club competition in the world. England, so far this tournament, have played a high-energy, intensive “press” game. To be able to find the energy levels to do this at the end of a season takes absolute commitment to fitness regimes. No “bonding” nights out on the town for this group of players. To a dinosaur of the ‘90s like me, it all seems a bit too serious.

Captain Harry, like the rest of his team, takes his role model status seriously, too. He uses his “platform” to make social and political statements. He takes the knee to stand against racism. He wears a rainbow armband to demonstrate affinity to LGBTQ+ issues. I do not know what his stance on climate change is, but I am fairly sure he’s deeply concerned. This is a man who stands for respect in individual choices, even if some of those choices or issues seem ridiculous for people like me.

Millennials are an earnest lot. They do not drink much and hardly ever smoke. Mental and physical wellbeing is a big deal, but they work incredibly hard. They got hit hardest by the economic and social repercussions of Covid-19, while their chances of dying from it were negligible. In a wider context they have inherited a pretty rum deal. They come out of education up to their eyeballs in debt, they cannot get on the housing ladder and their work prospects are volatile at best.

In return, the generations above them pour on disdain. However, this load of snowflakes seem to have more backbone and stoicism than my generation ever had — or will have – as exemplified in the football they are playing. They might be overly emotional, easily offended, and unable to deal with opposing opinions, but I will celebrate them and cheer on the team they send out tonight in Rome. Having said all this…I would still prefer to have a drink with Gazza.

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