Why the Nike dragon tried to slay Saint George

I’m loath to write this because somewhere, probably in Oregon, in the fantastically named Beaverton, an executive is quietly satisfied that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about. 

Oh yes, Oscar Wilde Jnr III, VP of Naus at Nike is today reviewing his press cuttings and probably thinking “that went well” as England rises to defend the cross of St George on the national football strip. 

Never having heard of Gerald Ratner, though distantly recalling Dylan Mulvaney, he’ll believe his American sports brand has achieved “cut through’” in the European “soccer” market in a way that merely indulging the annual replica rip-off game could never achieve. 

He may well be right, of course. On marches the news. But, on the other hand, Budweiser thought that too. They were once number one as well. 

Let’s for the moment overlook the arrogance and presumption in what Nike did – and the FA signed off – in altering a national emblem of almost 1,000 years standing and let us acknowledge as a given that the soulless commercialism that, among other things, drove it. And, finally, jot down somewhere the likely result of sodding about with the Stars and Bars in the same casual manner. Supreme Courts and hand guns all round.

Instead, let’s look at a developing pattern in sport. One which, because of football’s ever-open maw for money, has allowed the ingestion of the nasty corporate habit of diluting the profit motive with virtue-signalling politics. 

They’re after sport, you see. All of them. Rugby, when it’s not seeking to bankrupt itself, is an easy shot because of its perceived elitism. A sport, apparently, of public schools, empires and toxic masculinity. It being a ruffty-tuffty sort of a pursuit, “safetyism” will almost certainly see it off. 

There is much to be said on the selective nature of what gets reported on the head-injury subject and even more on the flaws in the class action which receives such uncritical coverage. But the sheer fear of risk and liability may well bury it. After all, who can question “elfnsafety”?

Meanwhile, cricket; village greens, Indian maidans, “play up and play the game”, manages to combine Englishness, imperial appeal and the Eton v Harrow match and, therefore, must be racist and exclusive. It can even be persuaded to publish a self-flagellating report to that effect. 

Which only leaves football. The big ‘un. It, of course, poses a different problem. Global. Lucrative. Diverse. But it does have that working-class tribal patriotism problem. “England till I die”? Something must be done. If only there was a way to deal with that and still make money. You see where I’m headed, don’t you?

The difficulty all sports present is that they inspire loyalty. Often passionate loyalty. And loyalty to an identity. And, of course, identity is the cause du jour. Unless, of course, it’s English identity because Englishness whether in the stereotypes of pith-helmeted viceroys, self-confident public schoolboys or shaven-headed “Enger-lund” supporters is wrong, very wrong.

Don’t believe me? Well, note how there’s always some twit a-tweeting about how St George wasn’t even English, fish and chips are Belgian and Churchill was a racist. They are emblematic, almost like a flag. And they must be run down and burned. 

Other national identities, of course, are to be indulged. Particularly if they manage to combine that odd blend of fringe nationalism that mixes anti-Englishness with socialism. Step forward the SNP as one example in many. 

The trouble is that many of these presumptions about sport and the clichés and subsequent thinking on which they are based don’t bear much examination these days. At elite level, sport is a meritocracy notably uninterested in much beyond ability and its capacity to achieve on-field and commercial success.

This is also reflected in the crowd. Take Spurs whose goalkeeper is Italian and whose most notable marksman is a Korean, Heung-Min Son. So numerous, voluble and diverse are the supporters behind these globetrotters that, age-old Tottenham fans from the North London locale are complaining – ironically – that they are excluded both by price and availability from watching from the stands that endless bid for silverware. 

Meanwhile, one corner of the Tottenham ground is garlanded with a rainbow banner and, over in SW London, Harlequins devotes a match every season to Pride. Both are notably metropolitan sides and there is, of course, an element of demographic marketing to these endeavours, however ultimately well-intentioned. Why exclude someone who might buy a ticket?

The fact remains though that in my experience nobody takes much notice of these things. Oddly, their focus is on joys and frustrations of the game. Their ire largely reserved, in time-honoured fashion, for the officials and few vigilantes stalk the grounds asking difficult questions about sexuality or ethnicity. 

Elitist? Well, elite sport is. But interestingly, both Harlequins in rugby and Surrey in cricket, both of whom enjoyed in the past a reputation for only wanting the right sort of chap, are spearheading attempts to democratise access to their sports. Both teams have been notably successful in recent times and know that a wide demographic nets all talents. 

Back then to Nike and football, a brand which, having recently been selected to provide Germany’s kit has provoked a patriotic backlash there because home-grown manufacturer Adidas has been dropped. Rumour has it they flirted with rendering the red cross of St George as a rainbow before that idea got vetoed. The odd purple pantone they’ve ended up with – now disguised as an obscure link to the 1966 training kit – seems to wink at it still. No matter. It’s all about identity. And when it comes to England, some identities are more equal than others. 

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