But what I really love is football's unifying power. The rules aren't hard to learn (yes, even the offside one) and you don't need any expensive equipment - four jumpers and something vaguely round to kick about and you're all set. Kids (and adults) all over the world can join in with a game - on parks, and beaches and dusty streets in every country on the planet, you can bet you'll find an impromptu football game.
And I really love the World Cup. I love the vibrant palette of colours, of the flags and the kits. I love the melting pot of different names, languages and anthems. I love the fans – people from all over the world united by their passion for the beautiful game. I love the drama - the heroes (and villains) that materialise. I love making miniature flags of the participating nations (yes, I know). I love all the back-stories, the politics and the history, the little emerging nations, and the journeys they’ve been on to find eleven men lining up on an acre of grass to run their legs off for their country.
This year, the team that’s caught my heart and my imagination, unsurprisingly, is Bosnia-Herzegovina. Playing in their first World Cup, the Bosnian football team is the only national institution that can say it truly embodies the Balkan country’s multicultural heritage, which was so viciously torn apart by the war of the early 1990s. Whilst many Bosnian Croats will be supporting Croatia and the majority of Bosnian Serbs couldn't care less about the World Cup since Serbia didn't qualify, on the pitch, Bosnian Croats, Serbs and Bosniaks will play side by side. The team are of a generation that grew up in the shadow of the war; many left the country and spent their childhood as refugees abroad, but others lived through the horror of the conflict. Surely the ultimate fairytale is that of Manchester City’s Edin Džecko, who spent the war as a child under siege in Sarajevo, and who the fans will be looking to set their World Cup campaign alight. More recently the country, which has spent the last twenty years trying to rebuild itself, was devastated by flooding at the end of May. Success at the World Cup would really give Bosnians something to smile about. They've been drawn in a fairly open group, and have a realistic chance of coming second to Argentina, who they play in their opening match tomorrow. I’ve got my flag and my shirt all ready. But what I can’t stand, is the England team. I mean, I’m as English as they come. I’ve searched extensively through my family tree and I cannot find a single drop of non-English blood in me. (There was a time when I thought my Scottish surname might lead me somewhere, but it appears that we are of the West Ham Wilson Clan). Everything about the English team turns me off – we have a dreary anthem, a boring kit, thuggish fans and whiny, over-hyped players. I can’t hear an English player or pundit on the radio without wanting to throw something at it. I can understand why my non-football loving friends and family would be sick of hearing about the World Cup.
I've pondered at some length whether there is there something more deep-rooted beneath my superficial dislike of the England team. Is it my uncomfortable leftie embarrassment at our colonial past? Or my middle class distaste at the over-enthusiasm of English fans, fuelled by my peculiarly British aversion to boastfulness? My love of an underdog? My association of the English flag with the far-right racism of the EDL? The connotations of rampant nationalism that come with overt patriotism?
I think this year I’ve finally managed to pin down the answer. It’s the sense of entitlement that the England football team carry with them. The sense that they should be winning, because we invented the sport and because our players play for some of the best clubs in the world. And we’ve had that entitlement for centuries. We’ve been the best and the greatest and done pretty well out of it. Half the players and managers giving interviews after their matches will be speaking our language. And now, maybe it's someone else's turn.
So, for me, the World Cup is about sitting back, enjoying the spectacle and rooting for other countries; countries for whom winning even one game would mean so much more, in terms of healing, and pride, and giving their people hope. And that’s why, for the next few weeks, I’ll be wearing blue.
