Moments after the final whistle sounded in Atlanta on Wednesday evening, a friend of mine was on our group chat ridiculing this moment of apparent national glory. “I’d rather Manchester City won a corner than England win the World Cup,” was his ostensibly ungenerous reaction to England’s 2-1 defeat of DR Congo. While all around us was elation and exultation at our national side’s triumph, I did find a certain common ground in his contrarian sentiment.
As a lover of football, I could thrill in the drama of the victory, admire the decisive skill and leadership of Harry Kane, and take pleasure in the success of players we watch every week. But supporting England demands something else of us. It requires us to buy into a version of national pride that, for all sorts of reasons, makes me feel uneasy.
What my friend was expressing, and what I recognise in myself, is that we identify more as Mancunians than Englishmen, and that the attachment to a local club we have supported through good times and bad, satisfies that need to feel a sense of belonging and communal joy through sport. I am pretty sure this will strike a chord with many committed fans of football clubs up and down the country.
