They digested the anticlimax in different ways

SORRY kids, that’s it for at least another four years. Those ridiculously-highly-paid footballers you idolise managed to dash the hopes of millions.
After all the weeks of hype, the wall-charts, the family sweepstake, the flags, the face-paint, and the anticipation, we had to explain to our confused six year old why England had been knocked out of the World Cup.
We also had to explain why a clear England goal hadn’t counted. That was tricky.
Yes Billy, the goal was in, and no, it didn’t go on the score thingy because the referee, (who must never be argued with), didn’t think it was a goal. Even though it was, obviously. And no, they don’t have video replays like rugby.
Everyone was screaming with elation when our goal/s went in, the boys clasped their hands to their faces when the German goals went in.
In the last minutes, Billy turned away, picked up his folder of Match Attach cards and let out a big sigh.
“Well, I wanted Brazil to win anyway,” he muttered, before going out in the garden to forlornly shoot a beach-ball at a mini-goal.
The older boys were like their Dad after the result. Sullen. Meanwhile, I’d had to leave the room to stop anything unsavoury coming out in earshot. It’s hard to be reasonable and sportsman-like when you want to shout expletives at people who get paid in a day what you earn in a year.
If nothing else, being an England fan as child is a great lesson in life’s anti-climaxes.

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