You have just encapsulated my entire relationship with football which started with Italia ‘90 and definitely peaked in ‘96 when I was a student in Birmingham and you couldn’t move in the streets for huge men painted entirely orange or blue, during the period when Scotland and the Netherlands were playing their qualifying matches at Villa Park.
Definitely feel good times despite the heartbreak inevitably linked to English football.
It was lovely, wasn’t it? Something about the current vogue for using the England flag as a rallying point for anti-immigrant protestors and racists has made me think about it all in a mournful way.
That’s so true. There is much about being a woman in the mid-nineties that I am not nostalgic about but they certainly felt like halcyon days as far as football was concerned. It’s scary to think how much it feels like we have regressed culturally.
“Peter Beardsley is merely love’s glorious instrument.” My god, what comic brilliance. And thank you for transporting me back to the early 90s, and that feeling of a sudden broad capacity for collective joy and sadness unbounded by necessarily national identifications. Just discovering the sheer talent and spirit of every team was enthralling for me, a woman who knew absolutely nothing about football. And even Peter Beardsley had his moments of splendour. Good times.
When England were knocked out of Italia 90 my goth friend Julian took himself out into the garden to weep. He must have caught it from Gazza
Oh no! Poor Julian!
He’ll be alright
You have just encapsulated my entire relationship with football which started with Italia ‘90 and definitely peaked in ‘96 when I was a student in Birmingham and you couldn’t move in the streets for huge men painted entirely orange or blue, during the period when Scotland and the Netherlands were playing their qualifying matches at Villa Park.
Definitely feel good times despite the heartbreak inevitably linked to English football.
It was lovely, wasn’t it? Something about the current vogue for using the England flag as a rallying point for anti-immigrant protestors and racists has made me think about it all in a mournful way.
That’s so true. There is much about being a woman in the mid-nineties that I am not nostalgic about but they certainly felt like halcyon days as far as football was concerned. It’s scary to think how much it feels like we have regressed culturally.
“Peter Beardsley is merely love’s glorious instrument.” My god, what comic brilliance. And thank you for transporting me back to the early 90s, and that feeling of a sudden broad capacity for collective joy and sadness unbounded by necessarily national identifications. Just discovering the sheer talent and spirit of every team was enthralling for me, a woman who knew absolutely nothing about football. And even Peter Beardsley had his moments of splendour. Good times.
Ah, thank you very much! ‘Broad capacity for collective joy’, yes, exactly. More of this sort of thing!
LOVE John Barnes' rap on that song. Love the song.
Magnificent.
Thank you x