Poland

So England have another make-or-break qualifier to determine if they are going to go to the World Cup.¹ And it's against Poland, again. Which means one hoary old chestnut from 1973 is going to be exhumed once more.

Despite having been drawn in groups with Poland since, and qualifying from those groups for European Championship and World Cup finals, the media can't let go of the 1-1 draw at Wembley that meant England did not take part in the 1974 World Cup in West Germany. The coincidence of the latest qualifier being two days before the 40th anniversary of clowns, Alf Ramsey's resignation et al will only make things worse.

There's a lot of airtime and newsprint (and an infinity of internet) to fill before Tuesday.

Some things to expect:

- interview with the 'clown' goalkeeper ²

- thoughts from the living England players of 1973, as if they'd be any more relevant than those of a bloke in the pub

- attempts to analyse every potential Polish formation

- desperate pleas for the already-discarded members of the class of 2000-10 to return (like the heroes of a crappy action film) for one last taste of glory

- seance with Brian Clough to get his opinion on the current Polish goalkeeper (Sunday Sport?)

¹ Not strictly true - there would be a playoff if they finished second in the group.
² Already in the Observer.

England Expects (Too Much)

So the England football team circus claimed another manager, this time over the allocation of a bit of elastic to give one player the responsibility of calling heads or tails.

I cannot remember the England captaincy ever being such a ridiculous issue. Yes, Bobby Moore is forever associated with being held aloft with the Jules Rimet trophy. The only other iconic image that comes to mind is that of Terry Butcher, wild-eyed, bandaged and bloody.

But should a nation that has won nothing since - the World Cup test event, Le Tournoi in 1997 does not count - be hung up about the thing that matters least?

The two images of Moore and Butcher encapsulate the problem.

Moore reflects the pinnacle of achievement, now so long ago that number of people still alive who witnessed it will soon be smaller than those who did not. The win in 1966 is passing into folklore, but is still referenced before each tournament. Moore is idealised as England have won nothing since. "Three Lions" had thirty years of hurt, and that is now sixteen years ago.

In the time since 1966, there have been a handful of occasions when England have gotten anywhere near winning. Two semi final appearances - only six years apart - and a further handful of quarter final appearances are pathetic. England are forever lurking in the top ten FIFA rankings, but have never been the top ranked European team.

This does not stop the expectation being piled up, fuelled by jingoistic media. The Mirror's front page before the semifinal with Germany in 1996 was a notable low. Paul Gascoigne and Stuart Pearce with photoshopped helmets, "ACHTUNG! SURRENDER For you Fritz, ze Euro 96 Championship is over"... (It wasn't by the way. Piers Morgan was editor. Whatever happened to him?)

The gap between expectation and realism has been widened by FIFA and UEFA expanding the tournaments. Currently twice as many teams qualify for each tournament than in the 1970s, when England failed in every qualifying campaign, clownish Polish goalkeepers and all. The view has become that once the minor challenge of qualifying is finished (unless an out-of-his-depth manager is in charge: Taylor, McClaren) then winning the tournament itself is a formality.

Butcher sums up the adage of putting your body on the line, equating sport with war. This is more commonly described as showing 'passion'. It's all well and good having passion, but it might be a better idea - as every other country has realised - to be able to play the game, retain the ball and pass it between each other.

Passion seems to be the reason why Harry Redknapp is being aggressively courted by the press - although not presently the FA. Harry stalks the touchline. Harry rolls his eyes and throws up his arms when a chance is missed. Harry compares his players with his wife. The fact that Harry never knowingly passes up an opportunity to give his opinion also helps. (I haven't seen today's papers, but I'd be amazed if the sports sections can be opened - gallons more Harry-love is probably spread over them after Spurs' thrashing of a hapless Newcastle.)

Redknapp is no tactical genius, and the last time the press got their way, the similarly tactically naive Kevin Keegan was appointed. (Although I cannot see Harry resigning in a toilet in the depths of Wembley Stadium.)

If Harry does get appointed, whether just for Euro 2012 or longer term, I already have the headline for the inevitable, self-inflicted England failure:

HARRY-KARI