Football: Suddenly the studio smiles disappear

View From the armchair

AS THE first reports began to trickle from Marseilles late on Saturday night, ITV's otherwise cheerful host, Jim Rosenthal, suddenly had to find the demeanour of a newsreader with grave tidings.

It was the moment we all knew was coming but had, perhaps wilfully, pushed to the corners of our minds. Instead we had sat back and suffered the dreary fillers, the endless "mood in the camp" features in which the BBC's Ray Stubbs had inquired about Michael Owen's possible wedding plans and then covered the team's golf tournament, while Gary Newbon had engaged David Seaman in earnest discussion about the flight patterns of the new, lightweight match ball. But now, the phoney war was over, in both senses of the phrase.

Jimmy Hill had had a first stab at la maladie anglaise on Sunday, as the younger members of the BBC panel happily passed the ticking parcel to him, and his usual answer came forth - It was "not football's problem but society's". This would come as something of a surprise not just to the citizens of Marseilles but also to anyone who had a car or business around Trafalgar Square on the night England lost to Germany at Euro 96. Neither incident came about as the consequence of a Mormon gathering which had got out of hand, but because a minority of football followers see the game as a vehicle for their world view.

By yesterday lunchtime, as a prelude to the match against Tunisia Hill had, like a hanging judge, donned his ceremonial robes, in this case a ridiculous bow tie patterned with the cross of St George. He was taking the same Pontius Pilate line as before, but if he actually believes "that the game gets all the blame and it's not a football matter", why didn't he just shut his trap there and then?

Instead, Hill started to propose a law and order policy that is more frequently heard from behind the steering wheels of London's cabs - "dregs of the nation, mate, that's what they are. Should stop them going abroad, or ship them back and bang them up for five years".

This idea may appear to have some merits as a gut response to people trashing another country on what they see as our behalf, but that's all it is, a gut response. Could Hill not reflect that his own rush to judgement exactly mirrors that of the moron who sees a Tunisian waving his country's flag as the justification for a kicking? Does he not see his own cheap jingoism reflected in the behaviour on the streets of Marseilles? What does he think about the appearance of his colleague Des Lynam on the front page of Britain's most xenophobic newspaper, waving a silly white plastic titfer, as worn by some of those involved in Sunday's pitched battle?

As night follows day, sure enough Hill's outburst was quickly followed by the traditional response of the Football Association's Graham Kelly, interviewed live at the ground to the ironic strains of "All You Need Is Love". Kelly quickly condemned as "shameful" the activities of drunken English fans. "We've made progress, but the inclination of some fans to sit in bars and drink for 24 hours cannot be stopped."

Maybe not, but it can be actively discouraged. So perhaps Mr Kelly could explain to the nation why the England squad still has one lager company as an "official supporter", and why our Premiership is sponsored by another? You don't need to be a fan of Ulrika Jonsson's to see the obvious connection between too much drink and ready violence in the English male psyche.

Some of the ramifications of the weekend's troubles were raised by Chris Waddle, who suggested, with great insight, that the French may now not be on England's side. As a former resident of Marseilles he observed that "the Arab side and the French side of the city don't see eye to eye". Well, yes Chris - but if our mob beat up Tunisians, aren't you suggesting that this is what the French would want?

The issues became slightly clearer once the match itself had started, with an England team that Trevor Brooking believed "had been chosen not to encourage Tunisia". Eh, Trevor? Initially it looked to me as though England's shape had been based on that well known fruit, the pear, though once Shearer had scored it was all strawberries and cream. And when Paul Scholes finally got the goal that his play deserved, we had a result that would not encourage the English fans to too much triumphalism on the city's streets.

Unfortunately, back in Paris, Hill was waving his dickie bow chauvinistically saluting the success of a "home grown boy" in the face of a domestic league filled "with foreign players". The Chin, it seemed, had put his foot in it yet again.