On the eve of England's first round heavyweight clash with greatly improved France, the rest of the opposition looks pretty tasty. Germany looked sharp as we expected. Italy matched Spain and found a man upfront who has that goalscoring instinct. Russia squashed the Czech Republic. The Dutch misfired but you cannot see them imploding like the French in South Africa. The rest are no mugs either.
So - England are out there with a weakened squad, a brand new coach, the cloud of poor player management based on the alleged accusations of racist behaviour, our thug like hero striker banned for 2 games and Milner and Downing in the Squad. Time to reach for the whiskey and support anyone who is playing either the French or the Germans just because we want them to lose. So English.
Tired of reading / contemplating / worrying about how England will fair in Poland and Ukraine - also tired of the media's endless pot stirring regarding the 'clear and present danger' of racist attacks in either host country - it might be worth adjusting the mirror and dipping into the intricate web that binds Europe (and that's not the bloody 'euro').
However - just for a brief laugh and minor digression as we are on the optic of Europe, let's pretend we are a under-valued and relatively lazy southern Mediterranean country who wants to join the big European family. We've got knock out beaches, great seaside party towns and loads of really old stuff lying around. We might have a few million countrymen who actually don't put a roof on their houses to avoid paying tax, still, great olives. Now we are sitting opposite some really top euro types with funny accents, shares in Danish bacon and polished electric cars. It goes like this:
Them: "so you want to join the European union"
Us: "yes please"
Them "have you met our stringent social and fiscal rules to qualify?"
Us: "sure, and we have loads of old stuff lying around"
Them: "nice, so you really have met the expectations?"
Us: "yep - Portugal lent us their book on it"
Them: "and if we did, but we're probably not going to, ask you to prove you can, you could?"
Us: "yep - all of them - at a canter"
Them: "nice, so, well, we guess you're in then"
Us: "smashing - can we start printing money now?"
Sorry, let's leave the politics out.
Avram Grant.
The day I watched West Ham's first team train, from a distance, it seemed Scott Parker was running the show. As I walked past the managers office ( a very simple portacabin attached to the side of the indoor turf) Grant was sitting talking to Parker. The others were out already - Parker left the office and jogged out to the session. It struck me how lonely figure Grant appeared to be in a season that ultimately ended in relegation. Of course us Hammers fans were hopping mad at the lack of adjustment each time the first team played. There is no room for failure when you're in the stands each week. And so Grant, like at Chelsea, left. As fierce a critic I was - his respect to the High Holiday of Yom Kippur, alongside Hammer player at the time Ben Haim, was a moment of dignity in a profession where honor and loyalty are rare at best.
Grant accompanied the England Squad to the Nazi death camps in Poland. I shall refrain from any personal comment except this: I was impressed by the fact teams participating in Euro 2012 included visits to sites of tremendous historical significance. Europe may not be perfect, but it is a vastly different place than seventy years ago. Football has gone a long way to healing the wounds of the past and Grant's story is worthy of our attention. Not only to bring a family's experiences to light but to remind us that Grant is much more than we expected.
Read his family's story on the BBC here....
