It might have been the endless flags hanging from every house in view, or it might have been the fact that in these summers where England went to play in a tournament, the streets sang with hope, disappointment and eventually resentment. My first feelings of optimism and disappointment. As famous as our ability to queue is our ability to dream and build up our hopes before crashing back down to earth whilst exclaiming we never dreamed in the first place.
These summers dominated my childhood and forged into my brain the marriage of Britain and Football. The intertwining of these two cultures a tradition for some, a ritual to others and a bunch of nonsense to the rest.
Football is a simple game, you put the pig skin in the onion bag. Like this metaphor football hasn't really changed, you hope, you pray, you believe and you dream, whatever happens after this is almost irrelevant, for it isn’t the winning that gets us through the summer. It’s the dreaming.