The biggest disappointment of Italy v England was not England losing the trophy — it was the loss of morality.
Harry Kane wore a pride flag armband. The whole team took the knee. In the lead up to the match, Gareth Southgate said, “Our drive to the stadium was an amazing experience for all of us. Every religion, every community, every heritage — it was fabulous to see.”
Everything about the England team was representative of humility, inclusion and allyship that has been somewhat lacking in societies throughout the world. It was a special team that many argued had the potential to transform the stereotypical nationalist racism associated with the game. Southgate penned a passionate essay highlighting the values and importance of the team, saying, “”It’s their duty to continue to interact with the public on matters such as equality, inclusivity and racial injustice, while using the power of their voices to help put debates on the table, raise awareness and educate.”
And that is what they did.
In the pre-match hours, many in London looked on torn between a self-regulated hope that maybe, just maybe England could win, and an anxious uncertainty as bottles lined the streets of Leicester Square and one individual appeared to conduct a colonic with a flare. But, it’s football — we’ve waited 55 years for this, it’s been a source of joy and unity after stringent lockdowns and restrictions, and a few hooligans are part of the deal. “They’re not representative of all of us.”
Much of the destructive behaviour that took place was all too familiar — breaching the barriers of Wembley Stadium to attempt to get in, shouting at Italian fans, a few bust-ups, shouts of derision to fans of the opposing Italian team.
But there was a palpable tension — if England wins, the socio-moral values of the team would be overwritten by an arrogant, far right mentality incapable of recognising its own irony — namely, the multi-ethnic background of the team. If England loses, the probability of fights, vandalism, racism and domestic violence would skyrocket.
The game took place fresh off the outcome of Brexit, which ceased to be about being a member of the European Union and instead became an argument against immigration and cries to “get our country back” — from who, exactly, is not the argument here, nor is has it ever been clear.
But for years, a destructive nationalism has seeped into and divided large parts of UK society. The leave vote further cemented the idea that multiculturalism is not welcome — in England (excluding London), specifically, since Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales overwhelmingly voted remain.
After extra time, Italy and England were tied 1–1, and it came down to the 5 penalty shootout.
Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho and Bukayo Saka were picked along with Harry Kane and Harry Maguire.
Rashford, Sancho and Saka missed their penalties. And all three are black men.
After everything Southgate and the team have represented and supported throughout the season, this shouldn’t matter, of course, but it does. Crucially, it matters because England lost.
During the penalty shootout, a friend of mine turned to me and said, “Someone’s going to run with the angle that all the boys that missed were black.” And devastatingly, almost instantly, he was proven right.
If they’d scored, they’d be embraced, extolled, considered heroes. But even though they’re playing for a national team, they don’t have the ultimately white privilege of being seen as young, growing players with potential. (Sancho and Saka are 21 and 19 respectively.) They couldn’t afford to miss, since, for a growing swathe of English football fans, and society, their skin colour deems they are not English. Notably, Rashford launched a campaign earlier this year calling on the government to offer free school meals for all school students in England in financially struggling families, as part of an ongoing campaign to end child food poverty in the country.
But this doesn’t matter. Also, of course, the decision of who takes the penalties is also down to the manager. The reality is, as these three players walked towards the ball, there was an unacceptable pressure — and awareness — of having to justify and defend their race while representing a country that, increasingly, seems only willing to accept that race if they earn the right to be black, be in England, be able to prove themselves as worthy. And the only way they can earn that, in the eyes of these “fans”, was by “bringing it home”.
To be English, in their eyes, is to be an angry white man with an over-inflated sense of individualist superiority. For everyone else, it is a title to be earned through some kind of representative success that benefits an indefinable “Englishness”, and is something that can be easily taken away in the instance of failure.
Within minutes after the game, social media was filled with the blame many of us feared. The logical argument that they didn’t lose because they were black, they lost because of the pressure, because of the chosen tactic, because of the misjudged angle. Instead, there were calls for Monday 12 July to be national punish a n***** day, with a points system increasing in value based in the severity of the punishment, which included rape and lynching.
It was heart-breaking, devastating, and even more tragically, predictable. The match took place in my beloved London, a city built on the pride of its multicultural diversity, But I watched the game in Scotland, where the majority of — if not all — football fans were rooting for Italy.
As societies across the world become increasingly aware of injustice, social concerns around racism, sexism and homophobia are being brought to the surface in a variety of arenas, including sports. Scotland’s decision to root for Italy reflected a greater solidarity with the fans’ morality and values that overrode geographic proximity to the nearest playing team. However, many hoped England’s proud confrontation of social issues and allyship with oppressed groups and movements would bring about change in its historically more aggressive, Anglo-centric fanbase.
We were proved wrong. Instead, it brought to light an aggravated, warped colonial heroism that has no place in our world, is fracturing the UK and even England itself, and makes me ashamed to call myself English.
