England women (I can’t quite bring myself to call them ‘lionesses’) are playing USA women this evening, for the chance to get into the World Cup final. That’s quite an achievement, and I’ll be cycling into Howden tonight to watch the game on a big screen. The pub won’t be draped with flags of St George, or full of rowdy, drunken, borderline racist England fans. Few people will be aware there’s a big game happening at all; I may have to ask the landlord politely if he’ll put the game on one of the screens. Most people - men and women alike - are sublimely indifferent to the fluctuating footballing fortunes of England women (though it’s only men who rate an England player on how much they’d like to “give her one”).
No one has to enjoy a particular sport or sporting occasion (I can think of few activities more existentially boring than watching American football, or skiing or anything involving horses). Sporting allegiance is a personal preference, and there’s no good reason why anyone should feel obliged to watch women’s football. Except that when they
do catch a few minutes of action on TV, they may be genuinely surprised at the level of skill on show. They may even tire of making sexist comments - the sheer predictability is numbing - and just settle down to enjoy the game. C’mon England!
Just licensed: a twilight street-scene in Winchester...
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