Germany 4:1 England Forget the Lampard goal. That debate is for another day. What matters is the worst finals result from the inventors of the game. England's collapse to a competent, spirited but hardly exceptional German team was embarrassing, with some of the most amateur defending yet seen at a World Cup. That lone Anglo hoisting of the trophy sails farther away in the mind the longer the latest crop keeps falling short, and as the sixties celluloid grows grainier, then expectations will revise, rather like those of Uruguay, who have come to accept 1950 took place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. 1966 has been a millstone and a false totem in the English football psyche for too long. The loss of Rio Ferdinand on the eve of the finals could well have been the straw which broke the camel's back, the undermining of a defence which had previously been a reassurance. After three gentle tests, England's back line cracked against a quality vanguard. Ferdinand's replacement Matthew Upson was at fault for Germany's first two goals, and his jaw-dropping lack of telepathy with John Terry carved vast spaces open in which Mesut Ozil and pals ran amok. Germany's Polish-born strikers Miroslav Klose and Lukas Podolski were lethal on the rebound, but that was also down to horrendous positional play by retreating Englishmen. The first goal was a banal route one strike seen in schoolboy soccer, with two centre-backs committing the cardinal sin of letting a striker slip between them to toe-poke a punt past their goalie. Then there were about nine red shirts on the wrong side of the ball when Thomas Mueller broke away to score their third and close a chapter in the match in which England were dominant. It was not all gloom as Fabio Capello's men had begun smoothly while the Germans stood off and waited. For a spell at the end of the first half they were clearly on top, scoring twice but having the second goal wrongly disallowed. Yet over the 90, so much of England's offering remained below par - Upson bafflingly picked ahead of Matthew Dawson or Ledley King, Glen Johnson out of position for two goals, an unfit and labouring Gareth Barry a pale shadow of the electric Owen Hargreaves in 2006, a midfield gifting acres of space away and an attack of Jermain Defoe and Wayne Rooney almost invisible. Capello's substitutions - Emile Heskey and Shaun Wright-Phillips, were as ineffective as his changes have been all tournament. Picking Scott Parker and Adam Johnson instead of Barry and Wright-Phillips could have made a difference, but it is too late to speculate now. All England can do is rebuild with youth and usher the so-called golden generation gently out the door after a decade of misadventure. England are all played out again, Champions League winners unable to perform in other shirts. At times against Germany, England looked interested and ready to take the game by the scruff of the neck, and at others a sluggish and aging band of brothers knackered by another gruelling domestic season. Franz Beckenbauer was right – the extra games of England's domestic calendar cannot have helped the national team, and they were stupid not to have won one of the easiest groups. England's near-perfect qualification campaign now looks devalued, with the double-demolition of the waning Croats and defeats of Andorra, Belarus, Kazakhstan and Ukraine far less impressive in the light of today’s tragedy. The Three Lions never roared in South Africa, but this time is was not a common case of first-round nerves. The team was stuck in first gear from Rustenburg all the way to Bloemfontein. What went wrong? The truth will out over the next few days and weeks, perhaps with the publication of a diary or two or a whispered snippet to a journalist. But the management team of Capello and Stuart Pearce clearly failed to organise their defence or motivate their charges. I have been trying to avoid WWII references, but was the boss' struggling English and insistence on Italian-style discipline just a bridge too far? The final scoreline is stark, though the stats show England came top on possession and shots and had an identical passing accuracy to Germany: It is goals that win games. While the Germans never had England on the rack and their goalkeeper Manuel Neuer often looked calamitous, the Mannschaft had a creative ace in Ozil that England lacked and had clearly done their counter-attacking homework to coolly exploit the glaring errors of their sub-standard foes. Just as their opening mauling of Australia was followed by a defeat by Serbia, a quarter-final meeting with Argentina will provide a sterner test of German mettle than the English wooden spoon they tossed aside today. England has been here before - a depressing elimination triggering frenzied soul-searching with no denouement. But it has come before in qualifying - Poland in 1973, Holland 1993, Croatia 2007. To lose this badly in the World Cup finals, and in a tournament England had a sniff of winning not too long ago, is devastating all round. (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile Tags World Cup Pens World Cup Posters World Cup football

Danny Baker, the father of funny football phone-ins, made a salient point in 1999 as opprobrium was being heaped on England coach Glen Hoddle's avowed belief in karma and re-incarnation. Aren't football fans about the most superstitious creatures around? Just analyse your behaviour on the morning of a Cup Final or a big match involving your country in the World Cup . You find yoursel f performing obsessive compulsive tasks you would not normally, in case you upset the gods and tip the balance of nature against your team. Touch that architrave with two fingers, place that moisturiser bottle there, you're almost going mad believing you can affect the outcome far away from your poky bedroom in Staines. Make no mistake, football's portal to the land of dreams, ecstasy and wonder is a big reason it remains popular, whatever one's age. It has been a while since one of my teams did anything to get me nervously excited, but yesterday morning I had a fleeting glimpse of spiritual awakening. As I made my way through the ticket barriers at Waterloo to begin my familiar trek to work I saw Martin Peters , the second-youngest of England's 1966 World Cup-winning team, standing there in front of me, ostensibly waiting for a train like everyone else in a railway station. Is that? Is it? With no-one else apparently noticing one of England's hallowed team gracing them with his presence, I had to be sure I was not dreaming so I milled around for a minute while I should have been on my way to work, observing his face from a number of angles to be sure I was in the present of a legend. I was. After a minute or so of awe, I decided the excuse of seeing Mr Peters would not wash at work with my boss so I made for the exit. Feelings and images began to flood my head, of the young Peters wheeling away having rifled home in the World Cup final, and my father celebrating in the stands as he did that day at Wembley. Then England were in white and Steven Gerrard was hoisting the World Cup aloft in a blaze of confetti and camera flashes. Back home the nation went wild, driving around with flags fluttering and horns tooting all night. Oh the thought of being there at that moment, which seems once-in-a-lifetime for Englishmen! As I skipped down the stairs towards the South Bank, the wonder began to wear off , but I knew how immense that frisson I felt in Waterloo had been. Football had reminded me what it can do to the emotions and the mind. Googling Martin Peters back home this evening, I saw his age is now....66. And what with England in the World Cup and...Before I could start reading the Greek coffee to find out the World Cup winner like a friend of mine did this week (she reckons Spain), I halted my mind's mad march towards irrationality. Football is played on grass between 22 men and whoever scores most wins. That's it. A fantastic moment indeed. It's always nice to dream. But now bring on the real thing. (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile Tags World Cup Pens World Cup Posters World Cup football

Fabio Capello fooled most people with his final 23. No-one as far as I could tell correctly read his mind to match his final selection. Even the Fleet Street writers privy to England training camps failed to spot his intentions in full. For instance, when Stephen Warnock was omitted from the last two friendlies, it was widely interpreted as meaning he was off the radar, instead of on the plane. Ditto Shaun-Wright Phillips. Instead, the Mexico and Japan friendlies were last-chance saloons for the second string, with only Joe Cole passing the audition with that impressive half-hour against the Japanese. The omission of Theo Walcott has occupied most post-mortems unsurprisingly. If you can score a hat-trick away in qualifiers on your debut, trouble Barcelona and score against them in the Champions League, and get into Arsenal's team as an Englishman, chances are you're good enough for the England squad. Being young, good-looking, pleasant and articulate did not hurt either. Maybe that was the problem, we were entranced by a wonder boy like the Americans were by Freddy Adu for years. A clinical eye on Walcott's season reveals only 11 starts for the Gunners, while his minutes against Mexico and Japan cannot be argued to have merited selection. Criticism of Walcott's lack of guile have been slowly growing, most vocally expressed by Chris Waddle, who claims the youngster has no football brain. Indeed, pace and control in a wide man are no good if you are running down the wrong channels, crossing badly and failing to link correctly with your teammates. The warning signs were there at last summer's UEFA U21 Championship in Sweden. Walcott began his tournament as a high-octane sub, causing havoc in tiring defences and wowing crowds. But as coach Stuart Pearce gradually handed him more playing time his impact waned, as defences figured him out. In the final against Germany, England's match-winner in waiting never showed up to carry the day. The omission of the incisive Adam Johnson for the predictable tramline runs of Shaun Wright-Phillips could be the more questionable choice, but given Capello's England record and trophy heritage, we should give the Italian the benefit of the doubt and assume he knows his onions. We like to think our opinions are as valid as the gaffer's, but at the end of the day none of us have access to Fabio's thoughts and none of us his record. England Squad: G - James, Hart, Green D - Johnson, A.Cole, Terry, Ferdinand, Upson, King, Carragher, Warnock M- Milner, Lennon, Gerrard, Lampard, Barry, Carrick, Wright-Phillips, J.Cole F - Rooney, Crouch, Defoe, Heskey (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile Tags World Cup Pens World Cup Posters World Cup football

On Sunday night, London's Royal Festival Ha ll hosted an unusual football event. While three big screens played the infamous 1973 England v Poland W o rld Cup qualif ier in its entirety , a n ensemble of Polish folk, classical and rock musicians belted out a boisterous soundtrack to accompany it. Huge Aston Villa banners slung along the sides of the Clore Ballroom gave a clue as to the evening's instigator - Nigel Kennedy , the enfant terrible of UK classical musi c who became a household name in Britain twenty ye ars ago for his unusual image: A yobby football lad, albeit with a mockney accent, wh o at the same time brought Vivaldi to the masses with the elan and sophistication of the finest musicians. Instead of a violin case, Kennedy preferred a carrier bag, instead of black tie, a Villa shirt. An indication of how big Kenned y had become was that he was flown out to Sardinia during Italia '90 to entertain the England s quad with a flourish of the Four Seasons. Football still clearly matters for him as he took the stag e in a Villa shirt wit h 'Agbonlahor' on the back, and alongside the claret and blue were the red and white stripes of KS Cracovia, his adopted Polish club (he lives in Krakow with his Polish wif e.) For 'Nigel Kennedy's World Cup Project', the now middle-aged wild one, s till sporting his trademark quiff, jammed with the at times industrial roar of hi s Polish entourage, while the time capsule of the famously fated qualifier played out above them. Some Polish lads had come with shirts and scarves as if for a real match, cheering and clapping every wonder save from 'the clown' (as Brian Clough famously called him), Jan Tomaszewski . The match itself was fascinating, even if the result was known beforehand. England needed t o win to qualify for the 1974 World Cup and deserved to progress in terms of the enth usiasm and physical endeavour they displayed at Wembley. But despite laying siege to the Polish goal and peppering Tomazsewski until he sneezed, Alf Ramsay's men could only draw 1-1. Poland went to Germany; England stayed at home and Ramsay, England's so far only World Cup-winning coach, got the sack. The attack-attack-attack style England played that night created many a six- yard box scramble and last-ditch Polish tackle, but despite the overwhelming dominance of England, the Polish net only billowed once. I could not help feeling a good team today would take a mor e psychological approach and try to draw the opposition out and hit them on the counter once it was clear they were going to stick every man behind the ball and play for a point. Top-level football today is about playing in phases - understanding when to funnel men into attack, when to put men behind the ball and when to frustrate and tire out your opponents by maintaining possession. This 1973 England had but a single phase - an attacking one, which soon became predictable as one ball after another was lobbed into the box or thump ed down the channels. From a spectator's point of view it may have been fun to watch one team trying to scorch the other from the off, but the joy of a high-octane opening would become a frustrating toil by the end as the Polish woodwork wallowed in its charmed life and England huffed and puffed increasingly desperately. Kennedy's men strummed and stroked and drummed away happily, but almost oblivious to the events on-screen; not a silent film accompaniment, rather background music amplified so loud the matc h became a distraction high above. An odd evening therefore, but hats off to Kenn edy for flying football colours in unfamiliar surroundings, and reminding us of how far, or not, England has come in 37 years. England 1:1 Poland , 17th Oct 1973, Wembley, Att: 100,000 England - Shilton, McFarland, Hughes, Hunter, Madeley, Currie, Bell, Peters, Chivers, Channon, Clarke Poland - Tomaszewski, Szymanowski, Bulzacki, Gorgon, Musial, Kasperczak, Cmikiewicz, Denya, Lato, Domarski, Gadocha (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile Tags World Cup Pens World Cup Posters World Cup football

A quarter of the FIFA World Cup participants are in action over the next couple of days, with the qualifiers eager to test themselves against extra-continental opposition in advance of the finals. England tackle Mexico in London in temperatures more akin to Central America (30C) than North-West Europe. The slippery Wembley pitch is still causing worries in many minds, particularly if it crocks another of Fabio Capello's squad. Experimentation will be the order of the day with no Chelsea or Portsmouth players involved and only one more game (v Japan in Graz on May 30th) left before the final 23 players are selected. With No.1 David James rested, Manchester City goalie Joe H art, the most talented but least experienced England custodian, is sure to play at least 45 minutes, as is West Ham's Robert Green. The other possible auditions tonight include the talented Adam Johnson and speedster Theo Walcott on the right flank, Everton's dependable Leighton Baines at left back and jack of all trades James Milner in central midfield. It will be an experimental evening for England, but the first choice three lions eleven, assuming Gareth Barry passes his fitness test tomorrow, still resembles something like this: James, Johnson, Cole, Terry, Ferdinand, Barry, Lampard, Gerrard, Lennon, Rooney, Heskey. Los Tricolores are looking to impress after finishing a point behind the US in CONCACAF 's qualifiers following a disastrous start under Sven-Goran Eriksson. Eriksson was in charge of England the last time tonight's opponents played, the three lions running out 4-0 winners at Pride Park, Derby, in 2001. Javier Aguirre brings a talented squad including Barcelona duo Jonathan Dos Santos and Rafael Marquez, along with local heroes Carlos Vela of Arsenal, Guillermo Franco of West Ham and Giovanni dos Santos of Spurs (on-loan at Galatasaray). The team's arrival in London last night was delayed three hours due to a bird strike on their British Airways airliner in Nuremburg. The Mexicans have a hectic practise schedule with games against Holland on Wednesday, Gambia on the 30th of May and Italy on the 3rd of June. England beat Mexico 2-0 at Wembley on their way to the 1966 World Cup with a memorable goal from Bobby Charlton. Mexico have the poisoned chalice of facing the hosts in Soccer City in the opening game on June 11th, and have also got to contend with France and Uruguay in a tricky Group A. England face the slightly easier prospect of the USA, Algeria and Slovenia in Group C. Mon 24th May England v Mexico Tue 25th May Georgia v Cameroon Greece v North Korea Nigeria v Saudi Arabia Eire v Paraguay USA v Czech Republic (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile Tags World Cup Pens World Cup Posters World Cup football

If you are an England supporter, get into the spirit of the 2010 World Cup with this unique range of England football goods . There are St. George's flags, bunting, T-shirts, baby bibs, pens, mouse pads, just about everything you need to show your support for the Fabio Capello and the Three Lions. Tags World Cup Pens World Cup football

Reports today are suggesting that moneybags, Manchester City, have made a "big money" offer for Aston Villa's versatile midfielder, James Milner. £20m+ is the figure being quoted. It's been a fairly meteoric rise for a player that until very recently many still considered as average at best. The season just gone has been Milner's finest to date but that's against some average competition. He showed promise at Leeds but became one dimensional, he flattered to deceive at Newcastle where he habitually wasted possession, he was then shunted out to Villa on loan and after a year back at Newcastle in their relegation season he signed for Villa permanently for £12m. This is where Milner finally began to find his feet. He was perhaps unfortunate at Newcastle that the man who signed him, the late Sir Bobby Robson, was unceremoniously sacked and replaced by Graeme Souness who wasn't keen on Milner's attributes. It was David O'Leary who took him to Villa on loan with reasonable success but it is under Martin O'Neill that he has flourished. Only 23 he has already played under 13 different managers (including caretakers) and cites the stability at Villa as a big reason for his improvement. What shined through Milner's Newcastle years and protracted move to Villa was a calm level headed attitude learned from senior players around him during his evolving career. This attitude has seen Milner become the mature player he is today. Able to understand and carry out instruction, he allies this with an understanding of football that enables him to play in several positions. These are precisely the qualities that England coach Fabio Capello likes in a player and precisely the reason why Milner is a cert for the final 23 that will travel to South Africa. His current form and performances over the past year cannot be argued with and he has eclipsed the likes of club mate Ashley Young. He fully deserves his place in the squad but is he good enough for the first team? That remains to be seen and he is perhaps more of a safety valve to cover a few positions and be available to protect a lead should the need arise. He doesn't have the creativity of Joe Cole or Steven Gerrard. He doesn't have the midfield goal threat of Frank Lampard. He doesn't have the blistering pace of Aaron Lennon or Theo Walcott. He doesn't even cross as well as Adam Johnson. He does most things very well but jack of all trades is often master of none and I don't see a starting position for Milner. He is probably the direct replacement for Owen Hargreaves; a confident assured penalty taker (another reason to have him in reserve given England's major tournament shootout record) who can cover the full length of both flanks and play right through midfield. Fair play to the lad, he's proved me wrong and the next couple of steps in his career could see him become a World Cup winner and key component of the most ambitious club side in the world. Now that's progress. BruiseLee Tags World Cup Pens World Cup football

Sifting through the ruins of Triesmangate Ah, the Daily Wail, England's daily register of phobias and general paranoia and the paper which once cheered Hitler, what a mess you've made. In search of a bog-standard sex scandal, the Mail thrust a pre tty penny (£100,000) into the hands of a woman with a history of mental health treatment, who, according to the Daily Mirror's Sue Carroll, "makes a King's Cross slapper look like Mother Teresa...in the court of public opinion she’s somewhere below Medusa and just slightly above Lucretia Borgia." Hear, hear. Melissa Jacobs is the worst type of female, of human being in fact -one who places short-term selfish financial profit above the trust of a friend and the hopes and dreams of millions who wanted the World Cup in England, where it has not ventured since 1966. Given the globalisation of the sport that country invented, it could be decades before the tournament comes around again. Secretly recording a friend who confides in you in order to make money and ruin their career is a despicable form of personal betrayal. But Jacobs' damage to England's World Cup hosting hopes is truly unforgivable. Triesman was a twerp for flirting with a younger woman but so what? Does that mean England cannot host the World Cup? How conceivably can this act of entrapment be justified as being in the public interest - it merely hands our bidding rivals a huge fillip and wastes the millions of hours worked and pounds spent on handing our nation football's crown jewel. If England is denied the hosting rights because of one selfish loser no-one has ever heard of and never will again, may every serpent in hell feast upon the harridan's evil soul for all eternity. And may all who are connected with the Daily Mail vow never to touch its filthy pages again, seek the forgiveness of Jesus forever or throw themselves off Beachy Head forthwith. This was an act of treason by both slapper and tabloid, sacrilege even - football is our national faith for goodness sake. But leaving the morality aside (this is a British tabloid after all), FIFA has been put on the back foot by Triesman's stated belief that Spain will be influencing referees with Russian money at the World Cup. As quickly as the FA rushed to issue apologies, the associations they had offended hurried to poo-poo Triesman's 'absurd' claims...but no smoke without fire. The suggestion sounded perfectly plausible given the history of influencing match officials from Mussolini in 1934 through Guruceta Muro, the Spanish ref bribed by Anderlecht in 1984 to Italy's Calciopoli affair of 2006 and the two German refereeing scandals in recent years. England has traditionally been the least believing nation when it comes to accusations of bought officials, but all that might have to change now. The Italian furor over Byron Moreno, the bonkers Ecuadorian official in charge when they lost to South Korea in 2002, does not seem so extreme after all. Indeed, the Spanish press reaction was telling, with many a 'I told you so' piece, apparently happy that their conspiracy theories had found international acceptance. If this means extra security and scrutiny on FIFA match officials and the activities of the referees' committee chairman, Spaniard Angel Maria Villa Llona, so much the better. The wider impression is one of FIFA being a clandestine cult unwilling to let the light of modern transparency enter its inner sanctum. Investigative journalists who have taken them on already, like Andrew Jennings and David Yallop, are doubtless frolicking in the fields as we speak. Frankly, few thought Triesman's claim impossible; why would be invent such a tale unless he had picked up on a rumour? Cutting deals in a vote like this, with rounds of knock-out, is what it is all about. Once the choice is whittled down to two nations e.g. England and Russia, where are the votes which went to all the other bidders going to go? It pays to do your homework, surely. It is still too early to judge, but the FA might well survive this storm and go on to win the vote in December. It acted sharply in booting out Triesman and getting Sebastian Coe, whom Soccerphile revealed a while ago to have football ambitions, on the phone to Sepp Blatter. Geoff Thompson, Triesman's replacement, is a trusted FIFA man, although David Dein seemed a more obvious choice with his connections and power-broking abilities. If a week is a long time in national politics, a month or so probably is in the corridors of footballing power. (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile Tags World Cup Pens World Cup football

The English football season reaches its climax in the same week as the British General Election campaign reaches the finish line. Like the annual Premier League toss-up between Chelsea and Manchester United, the General Election is usually a straight fight between the reds and blues, but this year the election has seen an orange team appear from nowhere in the form of a congenial and assured televisual image named Nick Clegg . There is no orange interloper in football however, where Hull City fell out the Premier League and Wolves struggled, although Blackpool may yet make it to the promised land via the play-offs. Football and politics have generally taken different roads in Britain, perhaps as a testament to the social delineation of the working class in industrial regions from the ruling class in the Westminster village. But the sport's booming popularity in recent years has dragged the suits into the grounds, or at least forced them to pay lip service to the people's game from the lofty perch of the executive box. Although overseas leaders had been doing it for years, such as when Benito Mussolini shamelessly hijacked the 1934 World Cup , it was Huddersfield FC man Harold Wilson who first twigged that football's popularity could rub off onto British politicians, when England won the World Cup during his Premiership. As comic creation Alf Garnett quipped , it must have been Wilson who made England wear Labour red for the final. Wilson's populist move backfired when he closely identified himself with England's 1970 squad, whose painful elimination 's proximity to the election cost him his job, he later claimed. The Prime Minister had himself photographed with the team in front of No. 10, Downing Street, setting a precedent repeated every four years since. In the 1980s, a PM virulently hostile to football held sway but even the Iron Lady found her swinging handbag unable to put soccer in its place and she grudgingly went ahead with some winsome photoshoots with Emlyn Hughes, Kevin Keegan et al. Margaret Thatcher saw no connection between her economic policies and the growth of spectator violence, and was taken aback when FA Secretary Ted Croker told her pointedly, "Not our hooligans, Prime Minister, but yours. The products of your society." Her magic wand was an ill-conceived plan to force fans to carry an I.D. card, which would be withdrawn from the miscreants. It was an unnecessary endeavour, which would have failed to stop fights outside grounds and was obviated anyway by the arrival of CCTV inside them, but was enthusiastically trumpeted for too long by the shrill Colin Moynihan, aka The Miniature for Sport, until the Hillsborough tragedy sank the soccer ID ship for good. The Thatcher years did foment some form of politicisation among fans and legacies of her general disconnection from the industrial regions who breathed football strongest included the Football Supporters Association , the start of supporter involvement in clubs and a burgeoning fanzine culture rejecting the official face of the game and the authorities. The grassroots were very green in the late 1980s as Thatcher's reign tottered towards its inevitable end, but football remained very much a minority interest in Britain as a whole. The fences, the strict policing, the labeling of fans as hooligans by the largely right-wing media had created a siege mentality among die-hards constantly challenging the public consensus that football belonged in the gutter. The enlightenment of Italia '90 and the seismic year zero of Sky TV's Premier League in 1993 lay in an unimagined future. Thatcher's successor John Major was less abrasive than his predecessor towards everything, and immediately said he was a Chelsea fan, making sure he was filmed attending games with fellow Tory David Mellor MP, although interestingly his sporting interests were listed as 'cricket and rugby' before he became PM. Pavarotti, Gazza and all had brought a spring-cleaning no-one had expected, but the after-effects in England of that summer in Italy were too powerful and popular to ignore at the highest level again. Engaging with England's football culture was now de rigueur for its top politicians. Tony Blair joined the club, claiming he was a Newcastle fan (his constituency was in the North-East), kicking around with Alex Ferguson and Kevin Keegan and rushing to tell the nation he was one of us when England were knocked out the World Cup. Gordon Brown has wasted little time kicking a ball for the cameras to launch England's 2018 World Cup bid, and the Scot who lost an eye at rugby made sure the film crew was there to see him grinning at the Three Lions winning at football on telly. Well-to-do Londoner and Old Etonian David Cameron has been at pains to paint himself as a footy man. He claims to support Aston Villa (his uncle used to be chairman), attached a St. George's cross to his bicycle in 2006 and invited himself to David Beckham's pre-World Cup party when he was not on the guest list. Never again will a British party leader shun the nation's number one sport you can be sure, but how refreshing it would be if they did, expressing a preference for a less-mainstream game or pastime instead of pandering to the PR protocols. While leaders are desperate to appear as fans, even to the extent of humiliating themselves , the players are generally much less keen on politics, preferring to enjoy their lifestyles without concern for the bigger picture, although their stratospheric wages militate towards right-wing votes. Even in the 1960s, Hunter Davies was surprised when writing 'The Glory Game' that none of the Tottenham players he got to know were Labour supporters at a time when the majority of the nation was left-leaning. An exception to the apolitical player was Scotland international Pat Nevin, who campaigned openly for Labour and made a point of travelling to Chelsea games by tube to dispel the image of overpaid stars voting for whoever would hand them the lowest taxes. Frank Lampard, who has been a vocal supporter of the Conservative Party, stands out as a politically-aware footballer today, while Sir Alex Ferguson continues to fly the flag for Labour . But they are still voices in the wilderness. Everyone ought to care about politics, whatever their status. And the nation cares about football sufficiently in terms of hours and money to make the election relevant to fans . Gary Lineker said he would not reveal his voting intention for fear of alienating some of his fans, and perhaps that is the wisest counsel, but should not stars of any description consider using their clout to campaign on an issue that matters, even if not on a Jamie Oliver scale? So is this election relevant to football fans? Labour's proposal to let fans own 25% of clubs is at least worth debating. With on average four clubs a year in Britain going into administration over the past decade, and clubs run in such a cavalier fashion it makes investment banks look prudent, how the game is regulated by government does matter - just ask Crystal Palace or Portsmouth supporters this season. With Michel Platini's calls for English clubs to sort themselves out or face sanction growing louder all the time, the fields of politics and football are far from mutually exclusive. But the reality is football will be low to non-existent in people's minds as they enter the polling stations on Thursday. Most players don't really care who wins any more than the politicians care who wins the Premier League this weekend, but you can bet the latter will still be screaming they are one of us once the World Cup kicks off in June. As long as football enthralls millions, politics will be looking to jump on the bandwagon. (c) Sean O'Conor & Soccerphile

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