Watching England play among Brits this Euros has given me a glimpse of the English national character.
It’s a country full of Eeyores. But underneath that steely forlorn exterior though, is a romantic with the kind of tumultuous emotional intensity that found its expression in Coleridge and Byron.
Truth is, they love their country and team so much that their pessimism and overwhelming sense of despondency are cloaks - a defense mechanism - to guard their hearts from disappointment.
And so they are bereft of hope. They don’t dare to hope. Because to dare to hope is to be vulnerable to the depths of despair. Much easier to just languish in the abyss than fall from lofty heights into it.
The American mind (my mind) just couldn’t really comprehend this. I am pretty cynical by nature but living in America where people just exude optimism (most of the times unwarranted) on steroids, makes me an outsider here.
When Bellingham audaciously pummeled that bicycle kick into the back of the net, I revised my priors. In my heart of hearts I just knew, against my better judgement maybe, that hope springs eternal.
It’s coming home lads 🏴