We'll Keep the White Flag Flying.
Posted: Wed Dec 07, 2016 4:30 am
England's Most Embarrassing Defeats.
England cricket fans of middle age grew up to the grating sound of the cadence of England defeats advancing and retreating with the tide; the eternal note of sadness in following the English game, a part of our cricketing identity, as the island's poetry is to its spirituality. I'm not sure that supporters of other nations feel defeat as close to their heart. When England stopped being a losing team in 2000, it took its followers five years to catch on, just in time to see the wave crash and scatter.
There are defeats, and there are defeats, and a connoisseur of vanquishment can sense the smell of loss approaching in the wind and then absorb its negative energy, gradually and then deeply. A word emerged to explain the mentality. The Fear. England fans have the fear. Even now. Maybe younger supporters don't have it. But you can hear it in the tone of the comments of my generation, or older, or a bit younger. It's an expectation that the worst will happen. In life, that means people lose the optimism to believe that they can ever win. And that leads me to wonder if the players had, or have, the fear too.
But there are defeats and defeats as I say. The heavy expected defeat that feels bred in the bone, a heritage, like losing to the West Indies in the eighties or Australia either side of the millennium. There is the existential humiliation of the loss to the emerging nation, an unforeseen twist of the knife like the first time you lose to your child at chess. There are strategic Charges of the Light Brigade cock ups. There are the don't-tell-him-your-name-Pike moments of haplessness. There is the ignominy of defeat under shaming circumstances, so much more furtive and degrading than winning that way, felt like the sick loneliness of heavy losses at gambling. There are defeats that end dynasties, and there are those that are the lowest point possibly beyond which it is not possible to fall.
And there are exciting near misses. There are glorious failures. There are valorous what-ifs. Like in the West Indies in 1990. But I'm not going to examine those. This is a journey into a long dark tunnel which allows in no light.
A countdown, 20-1 format, taken from 1978-2016! Short comments from 20-11, longer reflections 10-1.
England cricket fans of middle age grew up to the grating sound of the cadence of England defeats advancing and retreating with the tide; the eternal note of sadness in following the English game, a part of our cricketing identity, as the island's poetry is to its spirituality. I'm not sure that supporters of other nations feel defeat as close to their heart. When England stopped being a losing team in 2000, it took its followers five years to catch on, just in time to see the wave crash and scatter.
There are defeats, and there are defeats, and a connoisseur of vanquishment can sense the smell of loss approaching in the wind and then absorb its negative energy, gradually and then deeply. A word emerged to explain the mentality. The Fear. England fans have the fear. Even now. Maybe younger supporters don't have it. But you can hear it in the tone of the comments of my generation, or older, or a bit younger. It's an expectation that the worst will happen. In life, that means people lose the optimism to believe that they can ever win. And that leads me to wonder if the players had, or have, the fear too.
But there are defeats and defeats as I say. The heavy expected defeat that feels bred in the bone, a heritage, like losing to the West Indies in the eighties or Australia either side of the millennium. There is the existential humiliation of the loss to the emerging nation, an unforeseen twist of the knife like the first time you lose to your child at chess. There are strategic Charges of the Light Brigade cock ups. There are the don't-tell-him-your-name-Pike moments of haplessness. There is the ignominy of defeat under shaming circumstances, so much more furtive and degrading than winning that way, felt like the sick loneliness of heavy losses at gambling. There are defeats that end dynasties, and there are those that are the lowest point possibly beyond which it is not possible to fall.
And there are exciting near misses. There are glorious failures. There are valorous what-ifs. Like in the West Indies in 1990. But I'm not going to examine those. This is a journey into a long dark tunnel which allows in no light.
A countdown, 20-1 format, taken from 1978-2016! Short comments from 20-11, longer reflections 10-1.