They came, they saw the conquerors (750,000 in Trafalgar Square)

The Times ^ | December 9, 2003 | Simon Barnes

[Prodigal Son]

IT WAS like being Moses, save that the sea parted more reluctantly. Not the Red Sea, but the Red and White Sea: an ocean of flag-waving humanity with a single purpose in mind.

They were there to rejoice — three quarters of a million of them — and at times they flowed so thick that they brought the buses to a halt and the police horses had to march ahead and part them, so that once more the England team might go forward.

This was the day the England rugby union team paraded through the West End of London, bearing with them the trophy they won two brief, lifelong weeks back. The World Cup: England, champions of the world. And if you think that means nothing, you should have travelled with me in that three-bus cavalcade (of course there were three — you know how it is with buses).

I won’t have sex except with Jonny. I should point out here that this was one of the banners, rather than a personal statement. Jonny Wilkinson (for it was he), hero of England’s tournament and England’s victory, waved shyly, as uneasy in the limelight as his pal, David Beckham, is at home in it. Jonny, I want your babies; another banner. And a third: Johnno, show us your bum. This being for England’s captain and Easter Island statue, Martin Johnson, at present No 2 in the national heroism charts.

But they did more than wave banners. They climbed up bus stops and perched in crotch-splitting agony for a glimpse and a wave and a cheer. They stood two at a time in precarious embrace on pillar boxes. They gathered, gang-handed, on the roofs of bus shelters and even fire engines. They lined the streets a dozen deep on either side. Only a dozen? There wasn’t room for any more, but every time we passed an intersection there were a hundred more ranks of them.

The shops made a fuss that was part joy and self-promotion: Marks & Spencer incontinently vomited red and white confetti, Hamleys claimed that “the greatest toys salute the greatest boys in the world”. But for once this was no corporate do. This was a spontaneous, democratic and vernacular celebration: a city and a nation united in the rare and considerable pleasures of rejoicing. And every office window was open and many scrambled daringly along the parapets with cameras and blown kisses.

Others were safer, but no less ecstatic, on balconies, another group on a cupola above a neat green dome. Behind the scaffolding on the building sites, working chaps in fluorescent jackets and hard hats gave some tough guy cheers.

And it was freezing: weather more suitable for brass monkeys than golden cups. Those in the best positions had been there for hours — some since the middle of the night — and if, like a brass monkey, they had paid dearly for their place of vantage, they put a good face on it: loud cheers and relentless waving of the flag of St George.

What was it like? First, it was astonishing. That so many people could find so much joy from so few. That sport could really mean that much to people. And no, they weren’t rugby fans, they were just people. People who watch telly and who had their hearts lifted by a sport many of them had never watched before. But everyone understands the language of sporting drama, and especially the language of victory.

Caught up in the drama and the beauty and the joy: especially since it all came down to the last-gasp melodramatics of Wilkinson (he whose babies are so urgently solicited) and his right foot. I had wondered who would turn out for a do such as this one, but the answer was simple.

Everybody. Black, white, brown, male, female, children, teenagers, the fully grown and the ancient: and every one of them in holiday humour.

Because secondly, it was benign. Can you imagine a nationalistic celebration without hatred or bile or bitterness or resentment or defiance or bigotry or boasting? Can you imagine a sweet-natured spontaneous version of the Nuremburg Rally? A sporting version of Woodstock? It was as if patriotism was once again innocent, cleansed of malice. Simply a shared joy in a shared land.

There was very little booze, no laddishness and remarkably few police: just 500 for the 750,000 pilgrims. No arrests. It was, you see, a festival of good vibes. It has, after all, been 37 years since an England team last won a World Cup, when the football boys did it in 1966. A celebration such as this one has been through a long threatening and in the intervening years, between World Cup and World Cup, sport has become vastly more significant, vastly more vivid, greatly more watched and more followed.

And in that time, many an England team has travelled abroad to seek victory and has come home with disappointment and shame. The football World Cup of 1998 ended with the sending-off of David Beckham and riots among the supporters. In the 1980s, English clubs were banned from playing in Europe because they had caused too many deaths.

But now, sport has brought us something unambiguously worth celebrating. A tournament that passed without trouble (as rugby tournaments will) ended with an England victory. And to add sweetness, it was victory over Australia, who had beaten England in three previous World Cup finals in three different sports.

No wonder they turned out to cheer. And no wonder Wilkinson — the hero who kicked the winner with 28 seconds left to play in extra time — was cheered so far beyond the point of embarrassment that he scarcely knew what to do with himself. Except try to win it again. And maybe the victory will inspire the England teams in other sports.

I don’t know. You wait 37 years for a bus like that . .

[Prodigal Son]

So do I.

You don't like it when he calls the French "Frogs"? I would think this would be the sort of thing the average freeper would like.

[hellinahandcart]

We're going to have to permanently disagree then. I think his comments were in a much larger context, only periphally involving the sporting world.

[Prodigal Son]

LOL, he's a sports writer. Writing about sports is exactly what he does and the ugly side of football patriotism is something every sports writer in the UK has to deal with on a regular basis. I think back to 1999 when the Scottish crowd jeered during the national anthem when England played the Scots in Glasgow. It's quite a serious issue here. This crowd in Trafalgar Square showed us that patriotism doesn't have to be ugly and I'm glad.

Peruse some of his other columns. No hidden political agendas there.

[hellinahandcart]

You don't like it when he calls the French "Frogs"? I would think this would be the sort of thing the average freeper would like.

I didn't see the word "frog" in this article, PS, but there still wouldn't be a lot to like, after the poisoned paragraph.

[Prodigal Son]

He calls the French Frogs in other columns. Obviously, it's not in this article because it's not about France.

I thought it was rather a nice paragraph.

[Winniesboy]

I don't want to but in on a private conversation: but can I say that from the point of view of an Englishman, Prodigal Son's comments on the relative perception of overt, public expressions of patriotism in the UK as contrasted with the US are very astute. It seems to me that misunderstandings of the historical background to this difference do quite often lead to misunderstandings by US freepers of the real attitute of my countrymen to their country. The fact that we mistrust loud public expressions of patriotism doesn't mean we're not patriotic: quite the contrary, in fact.

[hellinahandcart]

There's no such thing as a "private conversation" on the forum. ;D

[Prodigal Son]

There's no such thing as a "private conversation" on the forum. ;D

True ;-)

[hellinahandcart]

I am the belle of the ball today. Why, just ask anyone.

(batting eyes)

[bernie_g]

For what it's worth, I agree with the other posters about the way flag-waving is perceived in the UK, and why. The only people who normally go in for waving the Union Jack in a big way are vicious neo-Nazi soccer thugs and two closely associated political parties the BNP and National Front.

The way British people tend to look at it is that they know they're British, don't need to wave a flag to prove it and tend to think that anyone who does, except on some particular occasions like royal processions, major international sports victories and so on, is either some sort of nutter or maybe even a sinister ultra-nationalist psychopath of some kind, like the neo-Nazi who was planting nail-bombs in gay pubs and asian markets a few years ago and whose rooms were decorated with Union Jacks and Nazi memorabilia.

I'm sure this plays at least some part in the negative perceptions of US style patriotism among my countrymen, athough most seem to understand that it's just another of the odd ways in which Americans differ from British people.

[hellinahandcart]

You guys are not the first to explain this to me, you know.

And just for the record, I am not a huge flag-displayer myself. I have a small flag on my front door, and a few pins that I wear at appropriate times, and that's it. But I can't imagine being put off or offended by larger displays or patriotic celebrations.

I said earlier to PS that we'll just have to permanently disagree about this, because no matter how many ways you present it, it is ALWAYS going to seem strange to me.

Strange that you can look at drunken soccer fans and conclude that it's not the violence, but the flag-waving, that is to be associated with their behavior.

That it wasn't Hitler's ideology and aggression, but his nationalism, that was the problem.

That celebrating one's country publicly is intrinsically bad, so much so that this author expresses wonder that this one event was benign.

This is always going to seem odd to me, and it is also always going to remind me of the leftist school of thought that assures us we'd all be better off if we dispensed with the idea of nationhood altogether. Sorry.

I can accept that you feel that way, but I can never understand feeling that way. Particularly when you have so much of which to be proud.

[hellinahandcart]

And anyone who would combine Nazi memorabilia and the Union Jack in their home decor is a nut-deluxe. But again, I don't understand how it's the flag that's the problem, the tip-off to psychosis, rather than the nail bombs and Nazi stuff.

He was abusing your flag. I don't understand finding the flag itself distasteful, rather than the abuser. I simply don't. Never will.

[bernie_g]

I think it's a different idea of what's an appropriate time to wave flags. Most British people are used to seeing this on certain very special national occasions only. The rest of the time, the only people who go in for it are violent neo-nazis. So there is an unfair and perhaps unconcious presumption that people who wave flags a lot are neo-nazis.

[AnAmericanMother]

or, as Kipling put it, "jelly-bellied flag flappers."

In context: "The Flag of Their Country" (Stalky & Co.)

It predates WWII, or WWI even. The Brits are just more restrained, it has to be a major event before they'll let go with an orgy of patriotism.

[hellinahandcart]

So there is an unfair and perhaps unconcious presumption that people who wave flags a lot are neo-nazis.

Yeah, tell me about it. I get a little sick of hearing that America is "looking like Nazi Germany". But I've noticed that many liberals have a lot of trouble making distinctions between one thing and an entirely different thing. It's all the same to them.

There were a few lefties here, screeching that country singer Toby Keith had threatened them all with death on Thanksgiving Day. What did he do? He sang "Courtesy of the Red White and Blue" during the halftime show of a football game. With a flag behind him somewhere.

They took those lyrics personally. And they find the flag extremely threatening. Three guesses why.

Transnationalism is going to be a lot more dangerous in the end than nationalism, in my opinion.