I Love What I Do by Roy Williams

When Michael Owen scored his third goal against Germany that night in 2001, putting the score up to 4-1, the commentator, John Motson, asked the audience to pinch themselves. Like the rest of us, he could not believe what he was seeing. Not only were England playing well, they were running rings around Germany, playing them off the pitch. True, it was a slightly weakened German side the lads were up against, but not one football pundit or sports writer for any of the papers saw this result coming. At best, they thought, England would get a draw. The team certainly needed a result if they were to qualify for the 2002 World Cup finals. Nearly everyone, myself included, hoped for the best but expected the worst. Germany getting beaten by England in Germany? No chance.

I was so convinced this match would be unremarkable that I chose not to go out and watch it. I wanted to stay in that night. It was my mate Ben Jancovich who persuaded me to come and join him in a pub in North London. What the heck, I thought, England just might surprise me and actually win. When Germany got their first (and last) goal in the 6th minute, scored by Jancker, I thought here we go again. The game was going slowly, but to be fair, it was a good build up by the Germans. By then I was hoping for a miracle, that England would equalize and hold out for a draw. In the 11th minute, I got my wish. Owen had equalized. Now it was the turn of the English fans to cheer and the German fans to be silent. If we could just hold out for the next eighty minutes… Fortunately, the lads were not having any of that. They were playing well, keeping the ball. In the last minute of the second half, me, Ben and the other fans watching, were rewarded. A magnificent strike from Steven Gerard. It was looking like England could very well win this game. Bring out the second half, I screamed!

Everyone in the bar was buzzing, talking to each other, debating what could happen next. The second half has unbelievable. As each minute went by, England seemed to be playing better and better. It was only a matter of time before they scored again. I couldn’t believe I was saying that about an England team. Owen was up to his old tricks, scoring another beauty for us in the 48th minute. Then he was at it again in the 65th. By then I knew I had made the right choice – to come out with Ben. This was an historic game, a classic! It’s right up there with the ’66 game, the match against Holland in Euro 96. I suppose Emile Heskey did not want to get left out of all the fun, which is why he scored a peach of a goal in the 74th minute, bringing England’s score to a nice five. Many German fans were walking out of the stadium by then. England were rampant. The final whistle blew, and everyone in the pub was celebrating like it was carnival.

At that time I was writing the first draft for Sing Yer Heart Out for the Lads. On the way home, Ben was trying to persuade me that I should re-write the play and set it around this victory. That was a tempting thought, but I decided to stick with the 1-0 defeat at Wembley, as depressing as that match was.  Although I did wonder what my characters, Lee, Lawrie, Gina and Barry would be doing right now if they saw this game.

In some ways, going to the theatre is a lot like watching a game of football. It is an event, split into two halves. You enter an arena, a large space where the professionals parade their skills as you watch, hopefully in awe. How I felt about going to watch this match was very similar to how I felt about theatre at the time. There were some fairly good productions going on, but nothing that was making me feel exhilarated, excited, on the edge of my seat. It was like we were settling for mediocrity, just like the England team were. I was confused. On paper, England had one of the most promising sides ever. Beckham, Owen, Gerard etc. You do not need me to tell you that we have some of the best actors, directors, theatres, playwrights in the world. So why wasn’t everybody coming out with first class performances week in, week out? Maybe I was being too critical. Maybe everyone was running on batteries and just needed time to re-charge them selves. However I still felt I was going to be disappointed whenever I saw a play. I had always hoped for the best, but deep down I knew I wasn’t going to get it. Just as I felt before the match started.

When the game was over, and I was on the tube home, I realized something. I knew why I was there watching the match. Not every single game of football can be a classic, just like every piece of theatre cannot always be memorable. But every once in a while, a 5-1 victory comes along, you feel privileged to have seen Under the Blue Sky by David Eldridge, gone to New York to see Deal Orlandersmith’s Yellowman, an incredible evening that I am still buzzing about. Liverpool’s epic win against Alaves in the UEFA Cup final 2001, Beckham’s last-minute free kick against the Greeks. McDonagh’s Pillowman, Stephen’s Herons, Green’s Born Bad, David Lan’s exquisite revival of A Raisin in the Sun. I’m sure everyone who is watching the show tonight can come up with a few more of their own. That’s good. These matches, these plays are the reason why we go to football, why we go to theatre. Mediocrity will always be around. But every now and then, you witness a classic, and you are glad you were there, to see it with your own eyes.  To the Beckhams, McDonaghs, Owens, Penhalls, Henrys, Prichards, Churchills, Ronaldos,  I thank you.

© Roy Williams, March 2004

Roy Williams OBE FRSL is a playwright and writer. Find out more about his plays here.