“You can stick your fucking England up your arse!” the Stretford End chanted at that abhorrent lot on Sunday. Whilst being a United fan and an England fan doesn’t have to be mutually exclusive, there are a lot of reds who don’t have any time for the England set up.
The 30 man squad for England’s World Cup will be announced by Fabio Capello today and reports suggest that Jamie Carragher, who retired from International football, will make a shock return.
Bizarrely enough, Mr Liverpool is fairly popular on RoM, largely thanks to the great opinion he has of our manager, but also because he is a club over country man. Unfortunately, the club happens to be Liverpool, but in principle it is the same.
Ahead of the announcement of the 30 man squad, it is interesting and fairly amusing to read Carragher’s reaction to missing a penalty which lead to England getting knocked out of the last World Cup from his autobiography.
Sitting on the England coach as it prepared to drive us away from the World Cup in Germany, I received a text message.
“Fuck it! It’s only England”. I’d just missed a penalty in the quarter-final shoot-out against Portugal. Around me were the tear-stained faces of under-performing superstars.
England’s so-called golden generation had failed. Again.
An eerie depression escorted us on the short trip back to the hotel, but as I stared at my phone and considered the implications of the comforting note, I didn’t feel the same emptiness I sensed in others.
There’s no such concept as ‘only England’ to most footballers, including many of my best friends.
Representing your country is the ultimate honour, especially in the World Cup.
Not to me. Did I care we’d gone out of the tournament? Of course I did. Passionately.
Did I feel upset about my part in the defeat? Yes. I was devastated to miss a penalty of such importance. Had I really given my all for my country? Without question.
I’ve never given less than 100 per cent in any game.
Despite this, whenever I returned home from disappointing England experiences one unshakeable, overriding thought pushed itself to the forefront of my mind, no matter how much the rest of the nation mourned. “At least it wasn’t Liverpool,” I’d repeat to myself, over and over.
And this is the guy England are relying on for the World Cup? Nice one.
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