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TV COVERAGE BBC GATE KEEPERS From their Berlin balcony, the BBC’s pundits quickly turned t iresome – though a rare f lash of honest assessment managed to r ile the England camp By TAYLOR PARKES Illustration STEVE BEERLING Winners are often boring, these days. With its absurdly lenient structure, and its cast of burnt-out stars, this was all set up to be a boring tournament for boring winners. Exciting things, like Turkey v Georgia, or Murat Yakin styled as Gregory Peck in a disaster movie made in 1974 – they were just distractions. Team after team fell to England and France, as though headbutted to death by goldfish. Ed Sheeran went to Germany to serenade the England squad, and in one sense at least, inspired them. Three weeks into Euro 2024, it seemed the way to succeed in football, in music, in politics, was to take no chances, do nothing at all, and wait for your adversary to hand you the win. Boring was the new in thing. The BBC had moved with the times. This is still the classier channel, of course: every game was introduced with mini-documentaries on the countries, crammed with televisual cliches but informative without being condescending. The choice of music was typically inspired (Smalltown Boy, on a piece about Poland, might even count as satire). In many ways, the BBC still tries much harder. But its regular presenters, so comfortable and so exposed, now barely dare to try at all. In that balcony studio, with its view of the Brandenburg Gate blocked off like it was 1961 again, things got boring at lightning speed. It’s baffling that Micah Richards, an irrepressibly ordinary player and a pundit whose acumen rarely extends beyond “They’ve got some quality players and if you give them a chance they’ll hurt you”, is now a fixture on multiple channels, nothing to offer but triceps like grapefruit and a laugh you’d visit Luxembourg to avoid. Mert Muldur scored an eye-popping volley for Turkey: “What would you call that?” bellowed Richards. “A Turkish delight! HAHAHAHAHA!” Everyone laughed along awkwardly, because that’s what you do around overbearing people, while quietly hating yourself. Alan Shearer, meanwhile, thought that England had to get players “in and around Harry Kane”, which might have been a bit of a squeeze. Wayne Rooney appeared, looking like Henry VIII played by James Robertson Justice, his insights rendered idiotic by that tiny, plaintive voice, like a pouting toddler clutching a dangling string and asking where his balloon went. Thomas Frank, introduced by Lineker as “a great Dane” like it was 1985, described things as “very exciting” in the tone most people use to say they’ve got to drive to Runcorn in the morning. Ad-libbing ill-advisedly, Gary asked him if he was really English: “You have two English names – Thomas, and Frank!” The great Dane smiled politely. Up in the commentary box, kayaks were capsizing on those treacherous streams of consciousness. “Buksa has put the Poles into POLE position!” screamed Robyn Cowen, apparently without shame. Guy Mowbray described the Slovenian penalty area as “Jan Oblak’s world”, inspiring visions of Jan Oblak World, an 18-yard theme park full of rollercoasters, Ferris wheels, and a helter skelter curling round a fibreglass Jan Oblak head. Poor Steve Wilson couldn’t take the pressure in Scotland v Hungary, as an unconscious Barnabas Varga was stretchered off behind a curtain, suggesting his injuries could be serious, even fatal. Thankfully they weren’t, but a nervy Wilson spent the rest of the game using metaphors of agony, pain and death, before finally announcing that, with the score level, “these teams are knocking each other out!” It was almost a relief to be reacquainted with Martin Keown, whose unfathomable anti-genius can defy the laws of physics: “I know he was tripped, but for me he’s got to stay on his feet there.” During France v Poland, Keown remarked that the game was “like a penalty shootout” after witnessing two penalties 39 minutes apart, a fascinating insight into the speed at which his mind works. Watching a Dutch player execute a dribble that was nothing like a Cruyff turn, he asked Cowen “Would you call that a Cruyff turn?” and was met with an embarrassed silence. “A Cruyff flick?” he offered desperately, just saying things which aren’t real things, like a panicking contestant on Catchphrase. This time the BBC cheered harder for Scotland than England – coverage of their game against Switzerland could not have been more partisan had Gabby Logan called the Swiss “pure fannies”. Rachel Corsie wore a short-sleeved pale blue trouser suit which made her look like a medical assistant on a spaceship, but a megaton of make-up couldn’t stop David Moyes’ mouth from looking like he’s smoked two packs of Superkings a day for 40 years, when surely he hasn’t. Inevitably though, the most time was wasted on England. A baffled José Fonte was expected to have an opinion on Anthony Gordon; Kelly Somers grilled Joe Hart as though he were an expert on how England could succeed. 2 WSC EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIP 2024 REVIEW
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It stretched on interminably, night after night, until with the news looming, Lineker made us an offer: “We’re going to talk about England a bit more on iPlayer, so join us there if you like.” I’ll confess: I did not like. But the panel’s uncommonly honest assessment of England stirred up trouble, and the players bit back. Modern footballers, pampered beyond all comprehension, seem to believe that if they play badly, people should say they played well – anything else is “negativity”, which they “don’t need”, and what they need is the only thing that matters. So as a side loaded with talent formed a human pyramid in their own goalmouth, pundits were expected to As an England side loaded with talent formed a human pyramid in their own goalmouth, pundits were expected to treat them like the Royal Family, and lie about what everyone could see, out of deference to their privileged status treat them like the Royal Family, and lie about what everyone could see, out of deference to their privileged status. Lineker proved himself to be an insightful pundit, when allowed; once cowed, they all rowed back and pretended the first half against Switzerland was brilliant. Still, in this frivolous context, we could all have a laugh at the suppression of objective truth by powerful millionaires, which I suppose we’ll have to get used to, sooner or later. Before the final, Lineker asked Juan Mata what it was like to win this competition, and he said it was “really nice”. Kelly asked Gareth Southgate how preparing for this final compared to preparing for the last final, and he said that was “a very good question”. The outcome seemed inevitable: this was a boring tournament, set up for boring winners. But then, just when it looked as though defeat might have eluded England, the one authentically exciting team to make it to the later stages stole the prize by being exciting, and by doing exciting things. A slightly unorthodox, rather old-fashioned approach, but not without merit – the BBC, too, may wish to consider it. Especially as some day soon, boredom may become an unaffordable luxury. REVIEW EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIP 2024 WSC 3

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TV COVERAGE BBC

GATE KEEPERS

From their Berlin balcony, the BBC’s pundits quickly turned t iresome –

though a rare f lash of honest assessment managed to r ile the England camp

By TAYLOR PARKES Illustration STEVE BEERLING

Winners are often boring, these days. With its absurdly lenient structure, and its cast of burnt-out stars, this was all set up to be a boring tournament for boring winners. Exciting things, like Turkey v Georgia, or Murat Yakin styled as Gregory Peck in a disaster movie made in 1974 – they were just distractions. Team after team fell to England and France, as though headbutted to death by goldfish. Ed Sheeran went to Germany to serenade the England squad, and in one sense at least, inspired them. Three weeks into Euro 2024, it seemed the way to succeed in football, in music, in politics, was to take no chances, do nothing at all, and wait for your adversary to hand you the win. Boring was the new in thing. The BBC had moved with the times.

This is still the classier channel, of course: every game was introduced with mini-documentaries on the countries, crammed with televisual cliches but informative without being condescending. The choice of music was typically inspired (Smalltown Boy, on a piece about Poland, might even count as satire). In many ways, the BBC still tries much harder. But its regular presenters, so comfortable and so exposed, now barely dare to try at all.

In that balcony studio, with its view of the Brandenburg Gate blocked off like it was 1961 again, things got boring at lightning speed. It’s baffling that Micah Richards, an irrepressibly ordinary player and a pundit whose acumen rarely extends beyond “They’ve got some quality players and if you give them a chance they’ll hurt you”, is now a fixture on multiple channels, nothing to offer but triceps like grapefruit and a laugh you’d visit Luxembourg to avoid. Mert Muldur scored an eye-popping volley for Turkey: “What would you call that?” bellowed Richards. “A Turkish delight! HAHAHAHAHA!” Everyone laughed along awkwardly, because that’s what you do around overbearing people, while quietly hating yourself. Alan Shearer, meanwhile, thought that England had to get players “in and around Harry Kane”, which might have been a bit of a squeeze.

Wayne Rooney appeared, looking like Henry VIII played by James Robertson Justice, his insights rendered idiotic by that tiny, plaintive voice, like a pouting toddler clutching a dangling string and asking where his balloon went. Thomas Frank, introduced by Lineker as “a great Dane” like it was 1985, described things as “very exciting” in the tone most people use to say they’ve got to drive to Runcorn in the morning. Ad-libbing ill-advisedly, Gary asked him if he was really English: “You have two English names – Thomas, and Frank!” The great Dane smiled politely.

Up in the commentary box, kayaks were capsizing on those treacherous streams of consciousness. “Buksa has put the Poles into POLE position!” screamed Robyn Cowen, apparently without shame. Guy Mowbray described the Slovenian penalty area as “Jan Oblak’s world”, inspiring visions of Jan Oblak World, an 18-yard theme park full of rollercoasters, Ferris wheels, and a helter skelter curling round a fibreglass Jan Oblak head. Poor Steve Wilson couldn’t take the pressure in Scotland v Hungary, as an unconscious Barnabas Varga was stretchered off behind a curtain, suggesting his injuries could be serious, even fatal. Thankfully they weren’t, but a nervy Wilson spent the rest of the game using metaphors of agony, pain and death, before finally announcing that, with the score level, “these teams are knocking each other out!”

It was almost a relief to be reacquainted with Martin Keown, whose unfathomable anti-genius can defy the laws of physics: “I know he was tripped, but for me he’s got to stay on his feet there.” During France v Poland, Keown remarked that the game was “like a penalty shootout” after witnessing two penalties 39 minutes apart, a fascinating insight into the speed at which his mind works. Watching a Dutch player execute a dribble that was nothing like a Cruyff turn, he asked Cowen “Would you call that a Cruyff turn?” and was met with an embarrassed silence. “A Cruyff flick?” he offered desperately, just saying things which aren’t real things, like a panicking contestant on Catchphrase.

This time the BBC cheered harder for Scotland than England – coverage of their game against Switzerland could not have been more partisan had Gabby Logan called the Swiss “pure fannies”. Rachel Corsie wore a short-sleeved pale blue trouser suit which made her look like a medical assistant on a spaceship, but a megaton of make-up couldn’t stop David Moyes’ mouth from looking like he’s smoked two packs of Superkings a day for 40 years, when surely he hasn’t. Inevitably though, the most time was wasted on England. A baffled José Fonte was expected to have an opinion on Anthony Gordon; Kelly Somers grilled Joe Hart as though he were an expert on how England could succeed.

2 WSC EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIP 2024 REVIEW

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