One of the reasons the World Cup is enjoyable to watch is the memories. Despite all the blatant FIFA corruption, despite all the amateur dramatics, questionable decision making, greenwashing, sportswashing and over inflated egos that FIFA promotes, the tournament resurrects many memories. Some are happy, some are painful. Who were you with, where were you, what were you doing and how did it feel the last time you watched this team or match?
The moment after divine intervention from the infamous Hand of God at the Estadio Azteca with Diego Maradona and Peter Shilton in 1986. Public domain picture from the El Gráfico newspaper via Wikimedia Commons w.wiki/R$NM
The greeks have a name for all this sporting drama: the Olympic agonies (αγώνες). What better way to describing the experience of being a football fan. Agony. Talking of which, the England National Football Team will face Mexico in Mexico City on 5th July at the magnificent Estadio Azteca. Do you remember the last time your team played the Estadio? The venue has some distinguished history including:
The Estadio is the only stadium to have staged two FIFA World Cup finals. While it wowed Pele, Maradona and the Pope, it looks like an Aztec temple of human sacrifice especially for European football teams. Thankfully there’s less blood and no murder, but of the 89 competitive games that Mexico have played there, they’ve only lost two of them. The omen’s aren’t good and neither is the Mexican weather forecast.
While I’m pleased to watch the England national football team make progress at the 2026 FIFA World Cup, they haven’t done so very convincingly, especially in defence. There’s plenty of Dad jokes circulating about England’s defenders being “left-back” (groan) in England. The national team look in need of divine intervention, in their favour this time, for any chance of beating an impressive Mexico on their home turf at high altitude.
So, bring on the agony and if you’re supporting England, get down on your knees and pray for divine intervention. It’s likely to be memorable.
Terry Butcher’s English agony accompanies Diego Maradona’s Argentinian ecstasy at the Estadio Azteca in 1986. Public domain picture by Dani Yako from the Clarín newspaper via Wikimedia Commons w.wiki/R$P$
It’s easy to be impressed by people’s titles. From the Chief of this, to the Director of that and from the President of this, to the Leader of that or the Head of whatever and Manager of so-and-so or Founder of an organisation: Titles tell you something about the person that holds them. In the UK we have more than our fair share of extraordinarily grandiose and pompous titles, some of which have been in the news recently, often for the wrong reasons:
The Duke (of Cambridge) William Mountbatten-Windsor #NotMyDuke
The Duchess (of Edinburgh) Sophie Mountbatten-Windsor #NotMyDuchess
The Princess (of Wales) Catherine Mountbatten-Windsor #NotMyPrincess
The Prince (of Entitlement) Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor, this is less of a fairy tale and more of a horror story for anyone who associated with the disgraced collaborator of convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein. Formerly the Prince of York, he’s now simply known as the Prince of Power, Corruption & Lies and definitely #NotMyPrince
Universities everywhere are stuffed full of people with fancy sounding titles too: Professors, Chancellors, Masters, Fellows, Doctors, Proctors, Bachelors, Presidents, Deans, Principals, Rectors, Wardens and so on. Churches love to lord it over us too with their Archbishops, Bishops, Deacons, Priests, Canons and Vicars etc. In many organisations you’ll find plenty of Associate do-da’s, Assistant so-and-so’s, Deputy what-nots, Senior thingamajigs and Vice bla-blas.
Titles, titles everywhere! Some hard earned, some inherited, some awarded, some bought. Some meritocratic, some theocratic, some democratic, some aristocratic. While there are many good and legitimate reasons for using titles, they aren’t always used with honourable intentions. I’m thinking of scenarios like:
“Don’t you know who I am?”
“We’re not on first name terms yet”
“You must use my titles when addressing me…”
Titles can be dehumanising for both addresser and addressee. When titles are stripped from their holder, it is a good reminder that we shouldn’t be too enamoured by them in the first place, especially when they carry lots of baggage. The weightier the titles, the more cumbersome they can be.
Titles have a tendency to put people on a pedestal, which they inevitably fall off at some point. Shelley puts it better:
According to Percy Bysshe Shelley “Titles are tinsel, power a corruptor, glory a bubble, and excessive wealth, a libel on its possessor” [1] Public domain image of a portrait of the romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley by Alfred Clint via the UK National Portrait Gallery in London on Wikimedia Commons w.wiki/p3h
So, titles are tinsel because we’re all human, decorated or otherwise. Maybe you like a bit of tinsel on your Christmas tree, who doesn’t, but a tree is still a tree – with or without the fancy decorations. So the next time you’re impressed by somebody’s title, remember that the titled, en-titled, un-titled, de-titled, re-titled and stripped of their titles, are all just people with very human flaws which might otherwise be obscured by the decorative titles we give them.
We should treat people with respect, not because of their titles, but because they are human.
References
Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1812) “Declaration of Rights.” In The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Volume 1, edited by E. B. Murray. Romantic Poetry; Oxford University Press. DOI:10.1093/actrade/9780198127482.book.1
You can cite this page using the Digital Object Identifier provided by rogue-scholar.org either the long DOI:10.59350/1fs12-2z824 or the shorter doi.org/qvd8, both of which point to the same thing.
O'Really? 