So often the country’s national mood is set by worries over public finances, rows about various issues or political turmoil. But, to an even greater degree, it is also defined by the performance of 11 people on a football pitch. In beating Mexico in their Azteca Stadium stronghold, England’s men’s team lifted the collective spirit.
The manner of the victory was the stuff of stirring legend. A young team representing every bit of the country, led by the redoubtable English oak Harry Kane and managed by the resolute German, Thomas Tuchel, showed what is possible.
The record of Mexico on their home pitch was formidable – in 89 competitive games at the Azteca before this match, they had only lost twice – and, despite taking the lead, when the Mexicans fought back and England had a player sent off, the familiar script of defeat and ignominy was being written. But no, England dug in, fought and fought, and refused to buckle.
There is something irrepressible about Kane and his teammates and a fierceness and rigour from Tuchel that says they will win. An epic, close-run contest in which Mexico also gave their all, egged on by a huge, vociferous, enthusiastic crowd, showed why football can lay claim to be the beautiful game and why it cuts across geographic, social and ethnic boundaries.
Yet its uglier side was also on display just hours before – the sort of cynical manipulation of its Fifa administrators, aided and abetted by the US president Donald Trump.
Last Wednesday, the USA’s star striker Folarin Balogun was sent off for an illegal challenge, and suspended for the next game. While the victorious USA quibbled about the harshness of the decision – Balogun’s foul appeared to be clumsy rather than malicious – the finality of the referee’s decision was accepted.
That did not reckon, though, with Donald Trump’s disregard for the purity of fair play and the sanctity of the rules.
Having previously shown little interest in the competition, he got on the phone to Fifa, calling them three times to demand Balogun’s reinstatement. Astonishingly, he succeeded. The organiser does have discretion, but it is little used and normally such entreaties would fall on deaf ears.
Speaking at the White House on Monday morning ahead of the US’s last-16 clash with Belgium, the president celebrated his own involvement: “I saw the play, and I’m a person that loves sports… That wasn’t a foul. That wasn’t even an infraction.
“This referee, who is a little bit suspect if you check his past. He made a call that nobody could believe. He’s our best player, or one of our best players. And he gave him a red card. I didn’t know what that meant… Yes, I asked for a review by Fifa.”
He added: “If [Belgium] beat us then they can be really proud. The other way – if they beat us, I say it was rigged just like the election was rigged in 2020.”
It was once unknown for a ruler to be so personally involved, but then this is Mr Trump. When he seizes an opportunity for political capital, he takes it. He also enjoys a close, some might say unhealthy, relationship with Fifa’s president, Gianni Infantino. Some may note that Sir Keir Starmer is said to have told FA chiefs that he was opposed to moving the start time of England’s football match on Sunday because it would give the Three Lions less time to adapt to the stadium’s altitude. But this is on another scale entirely.
A low point was reached when Mr Infantino bizarrely presented a preening Mr Trump with a “World Peace” prize, after he had been overlooked for the Nobel. Now comes Fifa’s bending of the knee over Falogun and a descent still further. In a sport given to hyperbole, the European authority Uefa is right to assert that in readmitting Balogun, Fifa is “crossing a red line”. Mr Infantino himself put out a statement on Monday afternoon admitting he had spoken to Mr Trump, but insisted that the decision to rescind the suspension was “independent”.
The Belgians are also right to seek legal advice; football – Fifa and the USA excepted – is correct to oppose the move. Country leaders do not usually behave like this, nor does a world sports administrator. Not that Mr Trump or Mr Infantino show any sign of being remotely bothered. If proof were needed that the US leader and the Fifa boss operate inside their own, self-aggrandising bubble, this is it.
Their shameful actions have occupied headlines alongside England’s thrilling win. They serve as a stark contrast. Just when you’re left despairing about the rule of Mr Trump and how he manages to skew even the world’s biggest sporting event to his liking, along comes a keenly fought, highly skilled battle to reaffirm the faith.
As a result of Mr Trump’s interference, the rest of the world is praying for Belgium to prevail and reach the quarter-final. That’s the effect he has, which he can never see, of alienating and not befriending.
Mr Trump and Fifa should hang their heads in shame; by comparison, the Three Lions can hold their heads high.
