Football brings out the worst in the English. We may have given the game to the world but, apart from the glorious triumph at Wembley in 1966, we have rarely been a match for the best teams, except off the field where our supporters have earned an unmatched reputation for brutality, writes Michael Henderson.
The World Cup starts next week in Germany, the land that our yobs detest more than any other, and the signs are not promising.
Thousands of known hooligans have been barred from travelling, and the German police issued a warning last week to those who will be there, that making Nazi salutes and shouting offensive songs will not be tolerated. Whereas our rugby supporters are the best in the world, happy to coexist in boozy friendship with peoples of other nations, our football fans remain a national disgrace, booing all national anthems except their own, and offering threats to anybody who doesn't belong to 'Ing-er-land'.
Neither do our leading players make attractive citizens. Compared with genuine sporting heroes like Martin Johnson and Andrew Flintoff, who have excelled against the best, they come across as a bunch of pampered cry-babies.
Everywhere the flags of St George are flying, and that is not necessarily a bad thing. Patriotism is a noble quality, and ideally we should be proud of the sportsmen who play games in our name. But it is hard to muster much enthusiasm for the tribalism that football alone introduces into national life, a tribalism amplified by the bootlickers and cheerleaders of radio and television.
So, for me, it's Germany for the World Cup. They've won it three times, reached seven finals in all, and make the vainglorious English look third-rate. They also gave the world Bach, Beethoven and Wagner, which means rather more than any victory on the field of play. Don't disappoint this Englishman. Come on, you Hun!
