England's fortunes might be spiced up by taking a leaf out of the books of TV chefs
Whenever there's a clamour for the England football team to alter tactics I think of a pearl of wisdom growled by a thickset Geordie in a Three Lions polo shirt at Brussels airport 11 years ago. It was the day before the start of the European Championship, the sun beat down on an overcrowded shuttle bus, passengers fanned themselves with passports, sweat trickled down necks. "Hey," one of a group of England supporters from Newcastle bellowed, "If this heat keeps up we're going to have to change wor style of play." "What," came the sage reply, "you mean, from shite?" Sadly Kevin Keegan wasn't listening and England went out at the group stage.
Nor has there been much indication since that anybody in the upper echelons of English football has grasped the fundamental truth that to win matches you have to be marginally less shite than the opposition ? a proposition made solid flesh by the Germany team of the 1980s, whose thrilling ability to be not quite as crap as everybody else on the planet got them through to one major final after another.
Occasionally, in moments of utter despair, a member of the football fraternity will acknowledge the central importance of lack-of-shiteness in the convoluted tapestry of the soccer universe, but usually they prefer to dress it up in some politer form. The latest euphemism being employed by the England hierarchy is "fresh". The day before England's match with the Swiss Fabio Capello declared his players were "absolutely fresh", but by Saturday evening he was forced to concede that "the Switzerland players were fresher". Nobody went so far as to follow Graham Taylor's masterful explanation of England's defeat by Sweden in 1992 and talked of the opposition's healthy outdoor lifestyle, but you could sense it was drifting that way ? the Swiss are bound to be fresher, what with all that Alpine air, skiing and goats.
By Monday the clamour for the crisp and new had been taken up to such a degree that senior English footie folk were indicating that in future Capello would select players not on "reputation" but on "freshness". Given the difficulties inherent in flash-freezing Frank Lampard, or vacuum-packing Wayne Rooney, this suggested the England coach is expected to become the sporting answer to the textbook French housewife ? Madame Colbert ? we read so much about in O-level Fran�ais in the 70s. Madame did not do a bulk shop at Woolco once a week like our own life-denying Anglo-Saxon m�res, but went out each morning to see what was good dans le march�.
Given that these days TV schedules are so thick with food programmes, if they were cholesterol BBC2 would have keeled over in the street clutching its chest months ago, it is perhaps not surprising a culinary angle is suggested as the way forward for England.
In this new, excitingly "fresh" England regimen, the traditional reliance on classic international ingredients such as David Beckham, which often have to be flown in from thousands of miles away, will be replaced with a football menu based on seasonal, local produce. This will present an exciting challenge to England's supreme soccer chef. Sometimes when Don Fabio takes his straw basket to the Premier League market there will be an abundance of dew-dappled full-backs, hedgerow-gathered defensive midfielders, and organic wingers that give off the scent of fresh earth, at others he will have to use all his skills and imagination to whip up a tasty treat for a fixture in Montenegro from the football equivalent of three pounds of caterpillar-mauled cabbage and a bag of turkey giblets.
If Capello is short of inspiration as he stares at the contents of his vegetable rack he need only ? as I say ? switch on the television. Here he will be bombarded with ideas. Might the Italian attempt to give his England team the much sought after "wow factor" by adopting the quirky approach of Heston Blumenthal to cooking up his side?
Imagine the delight and surprise at Wembley as we discover that the England boss has produced a back line straight out of the shaven-headed maestro's off-whack textbook ? not from the boring stuff everybody else uses, but with the sharp and zesty Aaron Lennon and Shaun Wright-Phillips in the centre; the crunchily textured Peter Crouch at left-back; "classical, but I've never seen him garnished with a peacock feather turban before" Ashley Cole on the right; and ? "to me, this is the thing that lifts Fabio's dish into the realms of the mmmm gloriously exciting and witty" ? fruity ancient history professor Bettany Hughes in goal.
Or perhaps the traditionally minded Italian will reject the scientific faddism of a left-sided midfield savoury sorbet, in favour of the more everyday sensuality of Nigella Lawson ? making something fairly ordinary in most respects, but doing it with a large expanse of his bosom on display, while sucking on his fingers and groaning.
Whatever, as long as it's not simply the usual plate of shite the nation will surely be satisfied.
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/blog/2011/jun/09/fabio-capello-england-chefs
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