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Compulsory games
Jul. 13th, 2018 08:08 pmI am not interested in football. I also think that there is something tacky about suddenly becoming interested in something just because it is fashionable (though this may just be contrariness) or because your country is enjoying a moment of success. I had no intention of watching any of the World Cup. But it isn't that easy to avoid.
We arrived at the Elm Tree for the quiz on Wednesday, fully aware that there was likely to be a television on somewhere in the pub. We arrived, in fact, rather earlier than usual, for reasons which were perfectly good ones, until they collided with reality: there was a large television screen relaying the match in each of the pub's three bars. The seating had been dragged round so that every chair faced a screen, and the French windows were wide open so that the smokers on the patio outside could watch, too - and, unavoidably, blow smoke into the interior. It was like a reminder of how pubs used to be, smoky, smelling of beer, full of men...
Actually, it wasn't, it was nothing like that bad: more of a cleaned up Hollywood version of how pubs used to be. And although the extra time seemed never ending, at least we didn't then have a penalty shoot out, and we were able to hold a truncated version of the quiz.
Anyway, it seems that it is now all over. No-one seemed at all interested in the fact that England still have to play whoever it is (Belgium, perhaps?) for third place. We didn't win, and that, it seems, is what matters - which is quite a turnaround from the initial assumption that England didn't have a chance, and that surviving the opening rounds would be a good result. It doesn't matter who comes third, and it doesn't matter who wins (I'm hoping for France, of course, though I'm glad to be spared an England v. France final). The World Cup is officially no longer interesting.
We arrived at the Elm Tree for the quiz on Wednesday, fully aware that there was likely to be a television on somewhere in the pub. We arrived, in fact, rather earlier than usual, for reasons which were perfectly good ones, until they collided with reality: there was a large television screen relaying the match in each of the pub's three bars. The seating had been dragged round so that every chair faced a screen, and the French windows were wide open so that the smokers on the patio outside could watch, too - and, unavoidably, blow smoke into the interior. It was like a reminder of how pubs used to be, smoky, smelling of beer, full of men...
Actually, it wasn't, it was nothing like that bad: more of a cleaned up Hollywood version of how pubs used to be. And although the extra time seemed never ending, at least we didn't then have a penalty shoot out, and we were able to hold a truncated version of the quiz.
Anyway, it seems that it is now all over. No-one seemed at all interested in the fact that England still have to play whoever it is (Belgium, perhaps?) for third place. We didn't win, and that, it seems, is what matters - which is quite a turnaround from the initial assumption that England didn't have a chance, and that surviving the opening rounds would be a good result. It doesn't matter who comes third, and it doesn't matter who wins (I'm hoping for France, of course, though I'm glad to be spared an England v. France final). The World Cup is officially no longer interesting.
