All those oh so nears

With Euro 2012 just around the corner, it's inevitable to think back to previous editions of the tournament.  On doing so I realise that actually, by and large, the European Championships has not been too kind to me as an England fan.  Too young to remember Euro 88 in real detail (although the words Van Basten and Gullit did enter my limited vocabulary at the time), Euro 92 brought my first taste of raging at a TV screen due to the footballing disaster unfolding upon it.  My rage then was in seeing Gary Lineker, my absolute hero at the time, being substituted, knowing full well I'd never see him again in an England shirt.  Did I not like that.

Euro 2000 contained a win against the Germans, but even that was fairly insipid, and the group stage exit for England with 2 defeats in 3 was a disappointment in what was otherwise an excellent tournament.  In 2004 England's campaign had a bit more drama, including the explosive emergence of Wayne Rooney, but ultimately ended in the usual hard luck stories and penalty heartbreak.  As for Euro 2008, well, England didn't even qualify for that one thanks to the ineptitude of Steve McLaren.

You'll notice however that I've left one out...

Euro 96 was for me probably the best football tournament of my life, certainly if we're just talking Euros it's the one that I've enjoyed more than any other before or since.  Being able to watch so much football was a joy, religiously maintaining my wallchart, discovering new players that at the time I had never heard of or knew little about - the likes of Karel Poborsky, Davor Suker, Hristo Stoitchkov, Gheorghe Hagi and even Zinedine Zidane.  What really made the tournament so special though was of course the success enjoyed by Terry Venables' England.

Reaching the semi finals in Italia 90 was for me at age 6 a series of being allowed to stay up and watch games featuring Gary Lineker, who I used to get told at the time I resembled, which filled me with happiness until I realised it was simply a slur on my big ears.  I knew that England were doing well and I knew that the Belgium, Cameroon and Germany games were exciting - but I was too young to understand the context and magnitude of it all.  By 96 however, my universe consisted of football and nothing else - being too young for the vices of later life the only thing that mattered was this.

England, looking back, had a very strong team in that tournament - in stalwarts like Adams, Pearce and Ince there was the steel and determination; Steve McManaman, Paul Gascoigne and Teddy Sheringham provided guile and creativity; whilst in Alan Shearer leading the line we had the world's best attacking player at that time.  They started slowly with the draw against Switzerland, but from there on in it was golden moment after golden moment.  Neville cross for Shearer to boom in the header...Seaman penalty save...Gascoigne dentist chair...Holland destruction...Pearce penalty.  Memories I'll never ever forget.

Of course the ending was not what we wanted, not what seemed destined to happen.  With 'Football's Coming Home' seemingly omnipresent during those heady weeks it felt like England were going to go all the way, until they found that the South Gate was indeed the quickest way out of Wembley. 

At the time I felt sorry for Gareth Southgate, still do, and blame for the defeat as far as I was concerned went to Paul Gascoigne.  Had he not hesitated for a split second, he would have reached the cross rolling so tantalisingly across the face of the goal, tapped into the empty net, and put us into the final.  Were it Shearer on the end of the cross instead of being the provider, there is no doubt it would have been a goal.

That game marked the beginning of the end of Gazza's reign as England's Clown Prince.  His omission from the 1998 World Cup squad settled it, and who knows what might have been for him if those studs had been an inch or two longer.  I recently saw an interview with Gascoigne for Umbro, talking about his experiences as an England player.  It's quite poignant actually, firstly to see the emotion with which he looks back on his pride at wearing the Three Lions...but also to see the state of the man now.  Hearing him talk in his shuffling, slightly incoherent manner, he could be eighty years old reminiscing on a bygone era. 

He is not an old man though, and it is clear that the effects of his lifestyle have taken a heavy toll on him.  Although I'll probably never be able to watch that clip of him sliding in and missing it without a tinge of hope followed by annoyance that he missed it yet again, I think that for a man who gave so much to England fans to be in such a sorry way is a tragic state of affairs.  The tabloids have provided no help whatsoever (little surprise there) and no doubt have the obituaries drafted already a la Winehouse.  He's never been good at avoiding controversy, and has lurched from one problem to another, but the same can be said for many many others.  I think though, rather than laugh at him, ignore him or pity him, the footballing authorities and us England fans should be looking to help Gazza. 

After all, for that glorious spell in June 16 years ago, think of what he gave us; along with the rest of that excellent England team that came oh so agonisingly close.