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Screensize: 640 x 480 800 x 600 1024 x 768 1280 x 1024 UserName: Password: Format Mode: Basic  Help  Prompt  Format: Font Andale Mono Arial Arial Black Book Antiqua Century Gothic Comic Sans MS Courier New Georgia Impact Lucida Console Script MT Bold Stencil Tahoma Times New Roman Trebuchet MS Verdana   Size 1 2 3 4 5 6   Color Black Red Yellow Pink Green Orange Purple Blue Beige Brown Teal Navy Maroon LimeGreen Message: * HTML is OFF * Forum Code is ON Smilies [quote][i]Originally posted by Tillamawnin[/i] [br]'I want to say sorry to the people. That's just the way it goes' From Simon Barnes in Shizuoka AND so once again England tread the Trail of Tears: a quadrennial pilgrimage of hopes dashed and unabashed public weeping. The tears are as bitter as ever they have been, but the reasons are very different. This time, it was a tournament that England could have won. Truly. The World Cup was within reach, close enough to smell the Brasso, but the chance of chances was lost, thanks to a catastrophic individual error. England had taken the lead against Brazil, traditionally the greatest footballing nation on earth. But Brazil won 2-1 yesterday after David Seaman stood rooted to the spot as a free-kick from Ronaldinho sailed over his head and into the goal. Last time around, England went out of the World Cup thanks to, yes, a catastrophic individual error. A chap called David Beckham got himself sent off for kicking an opponent, and England’s desperate rearguard action fell a penalty shoot-out shy of success. Beckham was vilified afterwards. Glenn Hoddle, then England coach, wouldn’t talk to him. He felt utterly ostracised, cut off from humankind, in despair. Only Tony Adams gave him comfort. It was the trauma of Beckham’s life, and it was the making off him. After the match yesterday, Seaman broke down. He knew, as Beckham knew four years earlier, that he had cost England the match: cost them their place in the next round of the World Cup. It was, if anything, worse this time: Seaman’s error might have cost England the World Cup itself, for hopes were sky-high until the clanger was dropped. So Beckham, England captain, gave Seaman the very public comfort that he himself had craved and been denied four years ago. You can’t kid a seasoned pro like Seaman — he is 38 — and tell him that it wasn’t his fault. All you can do is tell him that he is a goalkeeper of rare ability: nothing less than the truth. Goalkeepers only make one kind of error, catastrophic ones, but Seaman has made fewer than most over a long career for England and Arsenal. He was undone by a moment of unconventional brilliance. Seaman made a heartfelt apology to England’s supporters after the game. “It is very hard to take but that’s just life as a goalkeeper. The main thing is I want to say sorry to the fans, to the people I’ve let down today,” he said, head bowed, choking back the tears. Beckham eased the pain as much as it was in his power to do so. It was a big thing to do, because for Beckham, this was a moment of piercing personal disappointment: had this not happened, it might have been Beckham lifting the World Cup on Sunday week. But he didn’t look for someone to blame. Beckham has had a poor tournament as a player, mostly because he is not fully match-fit after his famous metatarsal injury. But he has had a fine tournament as a human being: a leader of quiet strengths, a public persona of charm and solidity, and a glutton for responsibility, whether tackling back in defence or giving succour to a distraught comrade. Four years ago Beckham was, like Private Pike, a stchoopid boy. Today he is admired for his moral as much as for his football qualities. What a tournament this has been. It has been characterised by a hardening belief that England could actually do it, a belief based on footballing logic as well as hope and prayer. Calling home, I heard of a nation as mesmerised by the passing spectacle as Seaman was by Ronaldinho’s free-kick. I heard of a country of deserted streets and packed pubs, of dawn vigils and breakfast boozing. Every four years, provided England qualify, the footballing half of England salivatess, while the rest say: “What’s all the fuss about?” But every four years, the tournament gets beneath the nation’s guard: and people who don’t know which club Beckham plays for find themselves in a state of quiet despair about Owen’s groin or the new adidas ball. This is because the World Cup is a narrative of rare power. We are fabulists: and the World Cup is a fabulous story. We cannot resist it, even though we know the story almost always has an unhappy ending. We have a a victory against Argentina to remember, a crushing win over Denmark, and above all, the memory of the few high days of hope in which England had the World Cup as a real possibility. Now we have only the tears. They’ll be shed again in four years’ time. Something to look forward to, eh? __________________________________________________ Live simply so that others may simply live. Mohandas K. Gandhi [/quote]   Check here to include your profile signature.