As proper football fans, we measure our lives in World Cups, don’t we?
As a nine-year-old, when France knocked Brazil out in 1986, I was allowed to leave Kevin’s birthday party early to watch it on the telly, but only after a reservoir of tears.
In 1990, when David Platt scored that volley against Belgium, I remember three generations of my family all being in one room. A couple of Coupe du Mondes later, that was not possible any more.
In 1994, I was sat in a McDonald’s crew uniform, observing Maradona’s wide-eyed celebration against Greece. I remember thinking, I really need to cut back on the partying.
Then there was the morning of June 21, 2002, when I walked straight out of my Belfast flat after an all-nighter that culminated with Brazil beating England 2-1, and straight into a random audition for BBC Radio 1, and the beginning of a career I never courted or expected.
Feel free to pause reading this article now, and drift off into your own flick book of four-year cycles.
The World Cup has always brought the kid out in us. Wall-charts, coin collections, theme songs, fantasy football and shiny stickers. Well, maybe not the latter these days. Jeremy Hunt would have had to announce a one-off payment in his autumn statement to cover the costs – The Panini Payment Plan.
Despite so many changes in football in modern times and the selective vision required to still buy into the so-called Beautiful Game, many of us have fought hard to do just that.
As I write this, it’s 72 hours until the beginning of World Cup 2022 and, honestly, I can barely muster up a thimble of enthusiasm.
I haven’t worked out routes to finals, bet on the top scorer or adopted a team because, as has been the case since 1986, my country voluntarily chose to stay at home. Cough.
Maybe that will change significantly towards the end of the group stages or come the quarter-finals, and I’ll be able to set aside some of my issues with Qatar 2022, but I think there is more chance of Harry Maguire winning the Golden Boot. Maybe, it’s an age thing. Maybe, as a 45- year-old I can’t as easily compartmentalise the good from the bad.
I can’t ignore the sheer volume of allegations and investigations that followed that 2010 announcement, connected to Fifa, Qatar or both. The US federal corruption case, the Garcia report and the claims and counter-claims connected to a myriad of multi-million dollar payments.
I can’t ignore the treatment of migrant workers, and the amount of deaths since the multi-billion pound construction boom directly brought on by the building of a World Cup infrastructure in a country a little over half the size of Wales. You can debate the numbers but you cannot wish them all away on technicalities.
I can’t ignore the fact those from LGBT+ communities have had to be reassured they won’t face arrest in a country that outlaws homosexuality.
I think all of us, when we set a red line, do so with an inevitability that it brings with it varying amounts of hypocrisy.
Me included. I won’t earn an extra penny from anyone I work for out of this World Cup, but I will acknowledge it, as applicable.
Those I work for are covering it but have also highlighted the many controversies connected with it, and varying opinions, so I’m comfortable with my red line, although it is in no way perfect. Nobody’s is but what are we without them?
Should countries with less social equality than our own be outlawed from hosting a World Cup? Of course not.
Should future tournaments be spread out across the planet? Yes. Is Fifa responsible for the world’s human rights issues? No.
However, like any global organisation, especially one that is a registered charity, you are responsible for the moral bar you set. You are responsible for your own red line.
Here’s a suggestion. If a country cannot stage the women’s World Cup and a Pride parade through its capital city, then maybe they should not be allowed to host the men’s World Cup.
This is my first draft of this column. I’m not going to edit it, tighten it up or polish it. It’s just an honest snapshot of how I feel. You may agree, you may not. Your red line is your own.
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