by “We will be United in the heart of Europe. Over four weeks.” In retrospect, it was probably wise for Uefa president Aleksander Ceferin to add that neat little disclaimer when announcing the official slogan of Euro 2024, just touching on the tournament’s contractual obligations of peace, love and unity .
Three years on from the big reveal in Munich, Uefa is still out there avoiding (some) deposits, getting rid of intolerance everywhere (except in the big leagues of European football) and reaching out with one trembling hand, style Michael Jackson, to bring down the horror. the barrel of the nearest infantryman’s rifle. Except, let’s be clear about this, for the next four weeks. And we will have to demand that everyone promises to keep their eyes fixed on the screen and that they close their ears to the sounds through the wall.
Six years and 239 qualifying matches in the making, carbon-light but still huge, Euro 2024 is finally upon us. And it is difficult to expect a little bit of 51 games in 31 days, a stage for eight of the teams that are in the 10 best in the world, to lose yourself in the sound and light of a real non-game. The plague-stricken European Championships for the first time since France 2016.
Related: Euro 2024: Guardian writers’ predictions for the tournament
The draw looks open, with at least five plausible winners in France, Portugal, Spain, England and the hosts. Germany is still the host nation of classic rock ‘n’ roll years. A delighted John McGinn is pictured dancing to oompah music alongside smiling people in traditional Bavarian dress, which assistant manager John Carver described as “capturing the culture”, with a nostalgic feel to it. the whole table, as a Shoot magazine feature from 1982. After the ersatz exercise that was Euros Everywhere, this all feels real enough.
Anyway. Like every other world sports beno, there is also a sense of ghosts on the edge of the picture, of the world shifting uncomfortably around this thing. We can, as Ceferin points out, be in the heart of Europe. But those tectonic plates keep grinding.
It is worth remembering that political flux is part of the legacy of the European Championships. This is a competition based on the wider urge for the stability of Europe after the war, the concept of football as part of international relations. The USSR won the first edition in 1960, with the help of a walkover after fascist Spain refused to travel to a communist country. Euro 88, the last in West Germany, still feels inextricably bound to perestroika, the fall of the wall, Gorbachev and Reagan, the phrase “that was a different time”.
Now we have something different, a European championship in the shadow of a European land war, which will take place 400 miles from the German border, the equivalent of a match day drive from Carlisle to Plymouth. The prime minister of Slovakia was shot. Germany’s defense minister said this week that the country must be “ready for war” by 2029. Europe is mired in tension, a toxic alliance ship and fear of movement lines on the map. The 2006 World Cup had the strapline “A Place to Make Friends”. How about this time we just go with A Place to Stop Threatening Each Other Bit by Bit.
One of the misconceptions surrounding these major football events is that they can somehow foster peace, unity and a reframed “national consciousness”. This is a confusion of optics and reality. Sports competitions are just theatre, and very much choreographed theatre. People will jump up and down if you play music. People will hug if you take a hug step. But mistaking this for actual social progress, a liberal act of self-sport evident in the chemistry of the athletes and cheering crowd as a catalyst for some broader brave new dawn, is a basic mistake.
France’s 1998 “Rainbow Team” has often been described as a visible triumph of tolerance, sport as a force for perseverance. No doubt this felt true in the glow of victory. But a quarter of a century in France just after a snap election that could land the country with a far-right anti-immigration prime minister. Le Pen-ism was a marginal pursuit in 1998. It is no longer the case. Did England feel like a more or less racist place on the morning of 12 July 2021 after its diverse, representative and similar team lost a number of penalties at Wembley?
A similar process is part of the mythology of Germany 2006, which has been referred to so many times in recent weeks as an optimistic call, an example of football engineering, some kind of world peace, hope, unity, whatever. This is also a case of parallax error. We remember the spectacle and associate it with emotion.
But it is worth noting two other significant things that happened after the World Cup 2006. There was a sustained economic boom in Germany, which certainly helps to feel good aspects. And there was a financial crash in Europe plus mass migration, sowing the seeds for the Alternative für Deutschland movement, which was created out of dissatisfaction with the obligation to support other European economies, and a political party whose recent statements want a second chance give. the Nazi SS because, you know, not all of them were bad.
Back in 2006, David Odonkor, a German of Ghanaian heritage, was hailed as true evidence of a new type of Germany emerging. Fast forward to now and a recent poll suggested that 21% of Germans would like theirs National team to be (how to put this?) whiter. Meanwhile, the AfD (date of birth: seven years on from the World Cup of liberal German contentment) is one of the largest single democratic arenas in Germany.
It seems strange to even say it, but sport will not solve real world problems. Only politics, resources and determination can do that. The spectacle is nice, but the spectacle is also a chimera.
So much for that side of things. Geopolitics aside, the spectacle has its own value. Uefa will be very grateful for a correct, functional, problem-free competition. The previously Covid-shadowed business is said to have already seen a 25% increase in sponsored income. A television audience of five billion is predicted.
Above all the noise is the simple pleasure principle, the undeniable beauty of this summer show. It is a testament to the good health of European football that these Euros look so attractive. There may not yet be a generational team, neither Holland 88, nor Spain’s Xavi-Iniesta, but those teams didn’t really exist until they met in the competition.
Germany is better than they have looked at times. Portugal are strong and still have the star of the most Instagrammed man in the world at their disposal. France have reached three of the last four tournament finals. Kylian Mbappé is playing as a center forward. This could be a phase.
As for England, well, who knows. The last Euros may be the biggest opportunity since the Southgate era. This team is fresh, young and the manager really pushes them to stir up some energy. So much will depend on the tactical suitability of the first two games.
Elsewhere, Albania, Austria and Serbia look like determined dark horses, and the denial that all predictions of dark horsedom must be spot on is hilarious. Scotland, with nothing to lose and a fine manager, may surprise a few.
With any luck these Euros may feel like a welcome respite from the grind and toxicity of the club game. It’s now common to dismiss international football as quaint and polite, which the spectacular mid-season jump into the League of Nations didn’t help draw back to Syldavia.
But in times like this the rigor of the format provides such clarity of purpose. Nothing can really interfere. No one is buying anyone. No one will be married or sued here. The only questions are chemistry, systems, interaction of moments and variables, and above all, the pursuit of glory, out there in the furry and sclerotic heart of Europe, united for four short weeks.
