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A Dream Start To England’s Euro Party

Events, Football, Sports, Women's Euro 2022 / By /
womens euro 2022

 

SQUARK! SQUARK!

The fire alarm test woke me from my deep slumber. Blinking weakly as my eyes tried take in the sun beams bleeding through the hotel curtains, I glanced at my phone. 09:00. I was running late for breakfast. As I got myself ready for the day, cleared out my room, and checked under the bed for any stray socks that may have escaped my suitcase, I pondered the last two days. 

Had it really happened? Had it been just a dream? 48 hours had passed since I had departed my flat, mentally preparing myself for the 4-hour odyssey up the M6 to get to Manchester. Yet in such a short amount of time, so much had happened. And so much there had been to celebrate. Like in 2005, England were starting the tournament at a major stadium in Manchester. But from there, the similarities ended. The build-up to this tournament is unlike any Women’s Euros that has come before it. You can see it in the newspapers, in sporting supplements, online on Twitter, on Instagram, on the fan blogs and analysis columns. The tedium of my journey north was gratefully placated by the shear plethora of podcast content I had subscribed to beforehand. Box 2 Box, The Guardian, Sky Sports, The Athletic and the BBC all helped keep me both informed and alert as I counted down the seemingly infinite miles. Such level of content, both quantity and quality, would not have been available to the curious listener wishing to learn more 5-10 years ago. The years of scrambling in the dark, hunting for the smallest sinew of information is now over. Now, the information comes to us in abundance. And what splendid content it is to devour!

After getting lost in Salford and parking in the same car park twice (don’t ask!), I was checked in and settled in for the evening. Whilst watching Cameron Norrie doing his bit to keep British hopes alive in the Tennis at Wimbledon, my mind shifted to the stadium on the other side of the water. Old Trafford was where the Euro 2022 party would be kicking off the next day, and I wondered whether, like Norrie, England too would be able to match the watching fans’ dreams of success. With a record crowd due to be in attendance, England had to win, to make the long, long wait worth it. I tried to shift the fear of failure, and what it could mean to both the team and the tournament, out of my mind. Unfortunately, the toxic mix of excitement and anxiety suppressed my ability to switch off, and so was left staring at the ever-darkening ceiling of my hotel room, praying for the luxury of sleep to help jump forward in time towards England’s day of destiny.

Morning broke over Manchester. The sunny, clear skies of yesterday had been swept away under the cover of darkness, replaced by a dreary, overcast cloud-filled atmosphere. Typical British summer. With an excruciating further 10 hours until kick-off, now seemed as good a time as any to take in the atmosphere, as the rest of the fan conglomerate descended upon Manchester. Walking past Old Trafford, the preparations were already well under way for the arrival of the supporters. Upon every lamppost, banners hung, proudly boasting that Trafford was a part of the Euro Stadium group. Huge posters were draped down the sides of buildings, Lioness stars emblazoned upon them, tagged with the slogan ‘You’ve Never Seen Football Like This’ and ‘Never Settle, Never Done’. Even the tram network was doing their bit, with messages of support for England displayed on their service information screens.

The closer one got to the city centre, the greater the level of support. At Piccadilly, Manchester’s main hub station, banners hung from the glass ceilings to inform the many fans (and the few unaware) what was due to happen, not just tonight, but for the remainder of the month. On the streets, video screens advertised sponsors who were all too willing to pledge their support to the upcoming contest.

It may seem ridiculous that I’m celebrating the norm here. After all, were this the Men’s Euros, or the Olympics, or the Commonwealth games, you would naturally expect this level of advertisement and promotion, maybe even more. Yet, for the Women, it is not. It never has been. This is the norm that has been long overdue. This is what should be expected, not what should be celebrated. I cannot comment on what the country was like in 2005, as I was not aware a tournament was even happening, nor was it held anywhere near where I was residing. Though in fairness, this probably showcases just how little it was promoted, certainly when compared to what I had witnessed that day. Unless you were living under a rock, not watching TV, and isolated from the Internet, you could not help but be aware. And that is how it should be.

After meeting up with friends from afar, we visited the main fan park at Piccadilly Gardens. Again, another step up. The Netherlands had fan zones of their own at Euro 2017, and it was great to see England looking to embrace something similar. A small pitch had been laid out for children to play football. A raised decking area for table football competitions. And best of all, a pub-dining area for people to sit, have a pint, and enjoy the entertainment. With music blaring out and people more than happy to showcase their dancing or football freestyle skills, the atmosphere was vibrant and electric. England and Austrian fans were revelling in the moment together, even if the weather was refusing to do so.

With kick-off approaching, and phone batteries starting to wane, it was time to head off to the main event. Old Trafford had been calm when I had departed earlier that morning, but the contrast now could not have been greater. Already, the fan merchandisers were out, selling the dreaded half-and-half scarves. An Austrian band were providing musical accompaniment to those making the walk between the cricket and football grounds. Road closures were being put in place as the fan presence grew. Outside the stadium, a second fan park, similar to the roadshows that had done the rounds over the previous months, had been erected, where supporters were congregating before the turnstiles opened. There were plenty of events and stands to keep the crowd entertained. A chance to test your VAR skills, a tekkers arena, a LEGO play area, and plenty of refreshment stands, including two bus-styled bars. Sweet Caroline was inevitably given an airing, much to everyone’s delight, as the DJ continued to ramp up the hype as kick-off drew inexorably nearer.

Soon, the time had finally, finally arrived. With my phone’s battery entering its last quarter, I got my traditional matchday programme (at an extortionate rate, I might add!), and entered the bowels of Old Trafford, praying my phone would stay alive long enough to display the QR Code (which thankfully, it did). Upon finding my seat, a protective cover appeared to have been draped over it. Casting it aside, I looked up at the stadium clock. There were now less than 2 hours to go. Couldn’t we just kick off now? Though after waiting what has felt like a thousand years for this moment, two hours were relatively little by comparison. As fans continued to pour into the ground, I contented myself with trying to burn time by reading through the programme. It was full of detail and interviews, from the high executives at UEFA to England manager Sarina Wiegman. Plus, it contained information (and accurate information, I might add), of all the teams, the star players, and their history in the Euros. An incredible piece of literature, another to add to the ever-increasing catalogue of ‘new norms’ this tournament was producing.

Millie Bright training for the England opener game
Millie Bright – Training prior to England vs Austria

The players entered the pitch for their warmups to thunderous applause, as the capacity reached close to 40,000. There was an electricity in the air, a mutual understanding that something special was about to happen today. Music thumped through the tannoy stadium, building the energy even further. Then the players departed, the flags arrived, the pyrotechnics primed, and the opening ceremony began. It soon became clear that what I though was a protective seat cover was actually meant to be a flag to held during the ceremony (Note to self: always read the small print!). Not that we could see any of the ceremony anyways. Thanks to the fireworks and flamethrowers, a huge wall of smoke had cast itself between us in the Sir Alex Ferguson Stand. By the time the smoke had cleared, the moment had passed. The teams were out and the anthems were being sung to the rafters. Only seconds remained. The pitch was cleared, the players took their position and the 60,000+ crowd were set. On the first whistle, both teams took the knee. On the second, Austria kicked off Euro 2022.

England vs Austria opening ceremony - Euro 2022
UEFA Women’s Euro 2022 opening ceremony

It was an atmosphere unlike anything I had ever experienced at a Women’s game before. The entire crowd were engaged right from the off and were cheering England to the rafters. The roared as England came forward in attack. They gasped when yet another chance slipped through their fingers. And they cried out in indignation as Austria consistently stole 30 extra miles with every throw-in. Not even the inevitably downpour from above could dampen their spirits. They all knew just how special, just how important, this game was. In 2005, just under 30,000 were in the City of Manchester Stadium to watch England’s opener against Finland. 17 years later, and they had doubled their money, and then some. And you could feel the effects of that increase everywhere. The critical thing now was whether the team could return the favour and reward the sheer volume of noise and support with something to really celebrate.

To say this England side were not used to pressure, would of course be untrue. The players have all played in Champions League ties, World Cup and Euro games, and domestic Cup Finals. In the build-up to the game, Captain Leah Williamson spoke about how pressure was a privilege, that it was something to be embraced. Yet this was arguably the most pressure weighted game the Lionesses had played in their history. This was the first time they had hosted a tournament with the entire nation’s spotlight on them, with a stadium filled to the maximum, with an expectancy to win. And across the 90 minutes, it showed.

On previous occasions when England have hosted tournaments, the opening games have been a struggle. The 1966 World Cup started with a 0-0 draw with Uruguay. Euro 96 opened with a 1-1 draw with Switzerland. Even in 2005, the Women’s team almost floundered, blowing a 2-goal lead late on, only to be saved by the intervention of Karen Carney. This time around was no different. The fluency and verve that had come to be expected had vanished. England had moments, naturally, but could not convert. The assured touches were absent, the finesse gone. Ellen White, so often England’s hero, passed up chances she would normally take. Lauren Hemp, earmarked as England’s Golden Girl in the tournament build-up, struggled to get any change out of Laura Wienroither. The second half substitutes, so often England’s saviours in the warm-ups, failed to improve the game. Thankfully, the game was won, and saved, in the 16th minute. 

The roof nearly came off the stadium when Beth Mead took Fran Kirby’s pass on her chest and delicately dinked the ball over Zinsberger. Even the intervention of a VAR check couldn’t stop England, as the crowd were instead given an chance to cheer again when the winning goal was eventually confirmed.

The final whistle triggered an outpouring of relief and celebration. England’s party had started, with the result, if not the performance, they absolutely needed. As Sweet Caroline, the anthem that had taken the Men’s team all the way to the final last summer, began its obligatory airing, and as the fans, scarves aloft, sang along, gleefully taking in the moment, I gathered my things and departed, still buzzing from what I had just experienced.

Night had fallen by the time the fans vacated the stadium. England had won, which was enough to trigger optimistic cries of ‘It’s coming home!’ from the departing crowd. Like my phone, I was on my last legs, drained of energy, desperate to make it back to the hotel room and take stock of what had happened that day. The Old Trafford game had been an immense experience, but with a bittersweet twist, as it would be the only game to be played there at the Euros. Such a fine stadium deserved another outing this summer. Would the Lionesses play there again on their future tours? After what I had watched, it would be foolish not to. And what of the fans? It was clear those that attended, all 68,871 of a record crowd (a statistic that drew just great a cheer as Beth Mead’s goal when announced in the stadium) enjoyed the experience, but would they return? Not just for this tournament, but for next season as well? And how would this change the public perspective of Women’s Football as a whole. Would they be front and centre the next day, just as the Men’s Team would be in similar circumstances, honouring an opening day win that puts their national team in good shape for progression in their own home tournament? As I switched on the news the next morning, the main story was not the Tournament, or the Lionesses, but of an absolute oaf of a man who was diverting the entire nation’s attention onto himself, attempting, and failing to cling onto what little dignity he had left. Oh well. No change there then.

Maybe it had been a dream after all.

 

Written by Adam Salter

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