I was raised in Kingsbury, north London. In case you’ve never been, it’s one of those places that you would describe as perfectly fine. Shops and houses, decent transport links and decent schools, people of different backgrounds living side by side; nothing to shout about but nothing much to moan about either.
Every so often, however, it is hit by a wave of visitors. They stream out of the underground station, take over the pavements and drink in the local Wetherspoons. Why? Because Kingsbury is next door to Wembley and thus the perfect place to go for a relatively quiet pint before heading to the stadium.
It’s where I also was on Saturday before visiting the stadium for England’s Euro 2020 qualifier against Bulgaria. I was with my wife and daughter and, as was the plan, we popped into my mum and dad’s for a bite to eat before heading to the game. Ultimately I wish we hadn’t left. I wish we had stayed in Kingsbury.
OK, that’s a little over the top, and it’s at this point I should remember the purpose of the trip: so my eight-year-old daughter could experience a live football match for only the second time. The previous occasion had been the 2017 Women’s FA Cup final, also at Wembley but in front of a relatively small crowd. So this was going to be her chance to get a full-on full-house feel for the home of English football.
It was also an opportunity for me to reignite my own childhood experience of watching England at Wembley. I’ve done so as a journalist on a few occasions in recent years but not as a paying punter since 28 March 1999 – a 3-1 win against Poland in a Euro 2000 qualifier that was also Kevin Keegan’s first game in charge of the national team, one that on the day contained David Seaman in goal, Graeme Le Saux in defence, Paul Scholes (who scored a hat-trick) in midfield and Alan Shearer up front.
I had just turned 18 and enjoyed the experience, as had been the case ever since I first watched England at Wembley in that 2-0 victory over Scotland at Euro 96. Could I, would I, do so again, this time as an adult with family in tow? The answer, I regret to inform you, is a resounding no.
All these years on it turns out that watching England play at Wembley is really boring. Or certainly it was on Saturday as a lukewarm game played out amid a lukewarm atmosphere. England strolled to victory and, in the stands, nobody seemed to care all much, or certainly not where we were sitting – Block 535, Row 9, high up and to the right of the goal England attacked in the first half. There were cheers when the players came out, as well as for each of the four goals, but in between … almost nothing. Frankly, it felt more like being in a creche than in a football crowd.
There were six children in the row in front, with all losing interest in the match pretty quickly and one in somewhat hilarious fashion as, with less than 15 minutes on the clock, he grabbed his dad’s phone and started playing a game on it. Adults, too, seemed largely bored by what was going on, with some (including me) barely waiting half an hour before ducking back on to the concourse for a use of the toilets and for something to eat or drink. Few were in a rush to get back. Few seemed that bothered about being there in the first place.
It’s great that entire families are able to attend games but this, in full effect, is what happens when they do – the feeling of a day out more than a highly charged, actually important contest. And it certainly doesn’t help when Bulgaria are the opponents. Krasimir Balakov’s men tried their best but they were never going to put up much of a fight and we all knew that heading into the ground. As such it was less than surprising that the atmosphere was underwhelming, and in the era of mobile technology and shorter attention spans it was perhaps inevitable that some would turn to phones quickly and without a second thought.
Maybe a Bulgaria goal would have changed things – unexpected jeopardy causing a sudden rush of noise and interest – but instead England dominated and once Harry Kane scored the first of his three goals there was a sense of inevitability about how things were going to play out. People relaxed. People got bored.
Another issue was the general sense of disconnect that exists at international games, and international games involving England, especially. There is love, there is patriotism, but there are no songs, nor the sense of regular, shared experience that creates something at club level, when supporters pat each other on the back as they walk through the turnstiles and reminisce about that recent midweek away trip. Instead it is largely a group of strangers coming together and sitting together but not, actually, being together.
That’s not necessarily the case in other countries, and it perhaps wouldn’t be in this country were England playing, say, Germany in a qualifying game under lights. But on a warm-ish Saturday afternoon, against the team ranked 60th in the world … if it’s atmosphere you want then it turns out you’re better off heading to Wembley market than Wembley Way.
Ultimately our afternoon was as Kingsbury has always been – perfectly fine; but that isn’t enough to make me want to return to the iconic venue located close to home any time soon, and certainly not while England continue to work through a seemingly endless number of easy-does-it qualifying games. My daughter doesn’t seem too fussed about going back, either. Indeed it is telling that her biggest takeaway from Saturday’s trip to Wembley was what she literally got to take away – an England flag.
