NoBlog 39: Jim Lovetoy Relives the Injustice of France ´98...
10th June 2010
Media personality Jim Lovetoy writes exclusively for The Football Ramble. “This is no blog, it’s a column. It’s credible. Proper journalism that has an influence...”
The World Cup begins tomorrow and it feels like Christmas Eve, except I’m not rushing around trying to get something for the kids. This is England’s best chance of winning it since 2006 and I’ve been stocking up on beer, barbeques and vuvuzelas to recreate the atmosphere in my flat, which is probably nicer than any of the stadiums anyway if I’m modest with you.
Of course since England founded and won the inaugural World Cup in 1966 the tournament has often ended in heartache for us. We always seem to be cheated out of it by a foreign conspiracy. I often ask myself why this is. We saved the world in both of the wars. Surely we’re heroes and shouldn’t be the victims of such disdain? The Germans don’t get this and they tried to turn everybody into them. It probably stems from jealousy and the most obstacle laden World Cup I can remember England participating in was France ’98. We battled through to the second round, easily the favourites to win it, where we met our old nemesis, Argentina. I’ve had a look at YouTube to remind myself of the details so I can share my experience with you. I don’t remember the commentator being Chinese but time can distort your memory.
The summer of 1998 was a heady one, in that I drank lots of beer and received many blow jobs. Three Lions ’98 topped the charts, Shed Seven had a new album out and There’s Something About Mary was creasing up cinema-goers around the world. I remember that Fatto was doing The Knowledge and making money on the side by cabbing illegally. This was the ‘90s and things like drink driving weren’t as big deal as they are in the stuffy society we have now. They were great days and to top it all off there was a World Cup going on.
England came 2nd in their group. We dispatched Tunisia and Columbia but Romania picked our pockets like the gangs of children they’ve trained to thieve their way through London. This 2nd placed finish meant that we faced Argentina in the next round. Ah, Argentina, with their cheating and play acting. The country even sounds like a highly strung woman and we owed her a seeing to after the injustice of 1986.
I lived in Mile End at the time as Blur had mentioned it here and there. I had Fatto, Facehead and some of my more peripheral mates over to make up the numbers while we watched the game. By the time it started we’d all had a couple of beers and the odd Hooper’s Hooch, which you could still get then. We were well mad for it.
It started badly and in familiar fashion. 6 minutes into the game Diego Simeone dived over David Seaman as he came out to collect the ball and won a scandalous penalty. It was so blatant and theatrical that the entire Argentine team may as well have done a simultaneous, choreographed dive. We were going mental in the flat. I remember saying there should have been a war about it, which seemed reasonable at the time.
Things could only get better, or worse, but thankfully they got better as the cheating Argies couldn’t help themselves and gave away a penalty. Even that was crafty. Their cheating technology is highly advanced and as Michael Owen went down they made it appear that there was no contact on him at all. It was a crass attempt to get him booked for diving. Alan Shearer’s subsequent penalty hit the net like a torpedo to the Belgrano. We went crazy in and six minutes later the floor was a sticky cocktail with Hooch, Two Dogs and 20/20 all over it as things got even better.
Owen went on an incredible dribble and run before pulling out wide and firing into the top corner. People always talk about Maradona’s goal in the ’86 World Cup against England being the best ever but, er, he used his hand, how can it possibly be? This was the real deal.
2-1. Dream land. Ince nearly scored from long range. Facehead started celebrating before it went in, he looked like a right tit and we were ribbing him for ages, celebrating every time the ball went out for a throw in. We were all laughing and joking, those minutes are some of my happiest memories. We had a real chance, we felt we could win the game and if we could beat Argentina we could beat anyone. It wasn’t to last.
In first half injury time Argentina got a free kick outside England’s box. Javier Zanetti slipped through a gaping hole in the English defence and made it 2-2. Bollocks. Bollocksbollocksbollocks. It was OK though, we reasoned, there was another half to go. We got our spirits up and spent 15 minutes shouting: “Come on England! Come on England! Come on England!” to try and get some positive energy in the room.
The second half began with immediate disaster. Simeone knocks over David Beckham. He retaliates with a kick in front of the referee. Straight red. A straight red! That was the only thing straight about it. You’ve all seen it. Simeone went over as if someone had pulled his chair away when he went to sit down. It was a weak kick too, if there was a martial art based on mincing it’d be like that. I was so angry with Beckham at the time that I immediately snapped my alice band and cut the highlights out of my hair. They’d probably raise a fortune on Ebay now!
Looking back, we definitely would have won if he’d stayed on, especially after having taken the lead with a penalty and an unpredictable wonder goal. Beckham went on to be vilified but after a couple of years I, like most level headed Englishman, forgave him.
We were down to ten and it was going to be a struggle. The ball went out for a throw. “Waheeeey!” shouted Fatto. “Shut up Fatto!” shouted everyone else. It wasn’t funny anymore. We battled on and even with ten men they couldn’t break us down. Extra time.
The golden goal was in effect at that point. Next goal won it. Darren Anderton’s knees held out for long enough for him to swing in a corner. Sol Campbell rose to meet it with his head. It went into the net. Everything went still for a second. That meant he’d scored. That meant we’d won. We’d done it. I was shouting and jumping around. I hadn’t made a decision to do this, I was just doing it. We’d beaten them with ten men, we’d avenged the Hand of God! I looked back at the screen, Argentina were on the break, why was the game still going on? Why hadn’t they updated the score? The commentator was saying it had been disallowed, which I somehow understood even though I now know that he was speaking Chinese. Argentina looked like they were going to score. Darren Anderton robbed himself of a few years of his career by making a heroic tackle to keep us in it. Apparently Alan Shearer had fouled the goalkeeper as the corner came in, which he blatantly hadn’t. It was all so wrong, we’d beaten them, we’d already won and we had to keep going.
The final whistle went. That meant penalties. That meant that all of us – fans and players – felt like a dog that knew it was on the way to the vets, where something bad would definitely happen. We huddled around each other, which was pretty grim as Fatto was sweating alcopops. Suddenly I believed in God. I prayed.
Berti stepped up for Argentina. He scored. 1-0.
Alan Shearer was first up for England, Mr. Reliable. Bang. He smashed it in. 1-1.
Hernan Crespo took Argentina’s second. He went right. So did Seaman, he saved it. We erupted! We were in the driving seat! Big Dave had saved one! We could end the jinx! 1-1!
Paul Ince was next. He went the same way as Crespo. Carlos Roa went the same way as Seaman. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh. He saved it. The man with the terrible haircut who went on to live in a mountain and invent Scientology bloody saved it. 1-1
Veron had his turn. He scored. The nob. He looks like he doesn’t wear shin pads. He should have been banned. I felt my soul start to cry. 2-1.
Paul Merson kept his nerve and scored. It was level again, we could still do it. We went nuts. 2-2
Wikipedia tells me that someone called Gallardo went next. He scored. 3-2
Michael Owen, 13 at the time, stepped up and delivered when it mattered. 3-3
Ayala scored. 4-3.
David Batty took the long walk to the penalty spot. He had to score...
He didn’t score.
It couldn’t be happening. We’d won. We’d already won. I felt sick. I was sick.
So much had happened in the same game, it felt like three defeats in one. England were coming home, football was not.
It wasn’t the last time. This cannot happen again. This will not happen again. England are stronger now, we’ve learned from this, we’ve got the passion, the strength, the know-how and above all we’ve still got the Falklands. Come on England!
Jim Lovetoy
Watch Jim’s sanity recede with his hairline at www.twitter.com/JimLovetoyTFR
Was this England’s most heartbreaking defeat? How far can they progress this time around? What are your memories of this game taking place?
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Jimmy
:::2010-06-14 15:31:03
the best world cup goal of all time is definitely Gazza´s against Scotland at Euro 96, and the most heartbreaking world cup defeat was the semi final defeat to Germany in the same tournament... but it seems to have been overlooked in all the build up this year
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