The Four Horsemen of the Soccalypse

I like a good football match the same as everyone else: I like to see my team score goals, I like to see the old enemy humiliated, I like to wear the team colours, and I like to laud the top goal-scorer.

This summer it’s the Fifa World Cup in Russia, and there will be plenty of opportunity for nations to get behind their eleven, to reopen old sores and settle old scores,  to cheer and to jeer, and to worship at the feet of Messi and Ronaldo… and maybe Harry Kane.

If you’re an England supporter you have to be pragmatic – we usually head home after the group stages… if we are lucky.

But part of me gets a little worried, because this multi-billion dollar industry plays on our will to power. We cling to the certainty of tribe and nationalism, worship false deities, crave the highs of goals, and revel in the hatred of anyone who isn’t us.

Maybe I’m a killjoy. But it worries me when I see the Four Horsemen whooping up the crowds.

The will to negation, the will to sensation, the will to despair, and the will to certainty: the architects of nations, corporations, religions and football teams; riding through the heart of Russia this summer, and riding through your heart and mine every minute, every second.

Come on England!

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