As we repeatedly stumble upon examples of banter and general negativity crossing lines and limits, it is maybe time to sit back and reevaluate how and why we watch football.
I did not watch a single match of this World Cup live. Work, parenting, and broadcast times made sure of that. I spent most of the tournament avoiding scores as best I could until I was able to watch several hours later. That meant a de facto social media blackout. I wish I could say I did not miss it, but that would be a lie. I did. On the few occasions I was on it, I loved seeing the snark. I was a spite junkie in search of a fix, and the the backlash from the rest of the world to “it’s coming home” was the sweet, sweet hit I needed.
Yes, it started as a joke, but after the Three Lions made it to the easy side of the bracket it became a lot less ironic. The rest of the world is prepared to tolerate a great deal of patronisation and superciliousness from the English as long as it is done sardonically. Indeed, that’s their brand. As soon as they become earnest, however, it was very off-putting and came across as entitled. The oafs trashing IKEA after England defeated Sweden while singing football is coming home didn’t help.
I prayed for a Croatian victory in the semifinals, but when Mandzukic put away the winner in extra time though, it felt hollow. Cheering against a team simply isn’t satisfying. Sure, there’s a brief high, but one can’t bask in the afterglow of someone else coming up short. I suppose it’s possible, but no one wants to hang out with that guy. And quite rightly.