England in the Euros made me a football fan inside four weeks

If the last 18 months have taught us anything, it is that you can’t predict the future. But if you had told me a year ago that I would be spending a Sunday night crying because of a football match, there is no way I would have believed you. 

In over two decades, football has never managed to capture my attention. I’ve helped my mum enforce a “no football talk at the table” rule at home, rolled my eyes when my boyfriend tries to make me watch the highlights and been a loyal member of the gaggle of girls who chatter over the commentators every time a match is put on at a social event. But this year, something was different. 

Watching the England vs Croatia match, I was initially thinking more about the burgers on the BBQ than the football. But as I watched the team pass the ball back and forward and the minutes tick down, I felt a sudden, powerful pang. “Oh god,” I thought, “I really want to win”. And just like that, I finally got football.

Since then I have watched every match, become obsessed with any football-related content on the internet and bought my first England shirt. I felt nail-biting tension in the Germany game and sheer euphoria at the semi-final, two emotions I never expected from football. 

I can’t say for certain what changed my attitude to the game. Perhaps it was the sense of community after lonely lockdown months or the glimmer of optimism and normality the Euros provided. But either way, the matches quickly became the highlight of my week. In just under two months I went from flicking through Instagram when the football was on to being unable to take my eyes off the screen for even a minute. 

My newfound enjoyment of the game was compounded by England’s winning streak. I was high on our success and addicted to the serotonin boost from each goal. 

By the final, I was chatting about the team like I knew them personally and giving my blissfully ignorant two cents on tactics to anyone who would listen (this mainly consisted of shouting “we need to bring on Grealish” at regular intervals). And so, on Sunday night I put on my England shirt and headed to a football club in South London to watch, nervous, excited and exceptionally proud of the same players whose names I had barely known the week before. 

From the first goal high to a nervous low, I spent the second half with bated breath, feeling levels of anxiety that took me back to A-Level results day at school. As we headed towards penalties I crossed my fingers on both hands so tight I got cramp. And when Saka missed I felt a feeling I can only compare to heartbreak. 

The “once in a lifetime opportunity” excuse that had allowed us all to momentarily forget we had work in the morning faded away. Drinks were put down, alarms were set and reality sunk back in. After days of endless chants of “It’s Coming Home” and “Sweet Caroline” the quiet felt deafening.

Monday brought more sorrow, reading the heartfelt social media posts from the players who had come so close and imagining their misery going to bed the night before. The what-could-have-beens if we had won keep playing out in my head; the celebrations, the optimism and the much-needed indication of better times to come.

I am grateful that the Euros were able to happen, despite the pain, and that fans were able to fill Wembley. And I feel lucky too, how often does your team get into the semi-finals the year you start paying proper attention? Perhaps this was just a warm-up for the World Cup, something new for me to look forward to. 

Following my football awakening, a few people have asked if I will start supporting a club, but there’s not a chance. Feeling like this for England is more than enough, my heart couldn’t take the Premier League.