might receive an honorary award sometime. “No interest” murmured Keane, with a wild and fleeting smile.
and word, he reminded us of his everyday work with a reference to the handball rule after Germany’s penalty: “It’s Orange Juice time... rip it up and start again!” His opening remarks for the Spain v Italy encounter were to not expect a lot of goals. “But then, what else is on the box tonight?” Well, Clive, for a start, Eileen Atkins Remembers... Mrs Dalloway, on BBC Four. But we must not expect wit and culture from our football commentators, just as we do not expect milk from a horse.
ITV brought us innovation to keep us interested. Coverage of Belgium v Slovakia began with a jib shot of Pougatch calling up to us from the middle of Berlin’s Pariser Platz. This is a wonderful idea if you are filming the final scene of Lawrence of Arabia, but in this instance it was compromised by a number of locals pausing to inspect the foreign stranger apparently declaiming football statistics to his deity. And the innovation did not stop there. Five days later, Pougatch was interrupted winding down the Turkey v Portugal discussion by Laura Woods springing onto the set like an immersive actor at a tourist attraction. She thanked him and his panel – “You’ve done a great job!” – before announcing herself as the presenter for Belgium v Romania.
Talking of not expecting wit or culture, Sam Matterface maintained his previous tournament form. He was inter-
Anchorman Mark Pougatch was,
as usual, extremely reliable; although, when negotiating the more serious issues of debate, his speech took on the unnerving stress pattern of someone performing an rupted bemoaning England’s performance against Slovakia by Jude Bellingham’s late equaliser, at which point he came out with “Sometimes it is darkest, just before the dawn!”, invoking 17th-century theologian Thomas Fuller, while sounding like a chihuahua mid-death plunge.
Matterface and Lee Dixon have by now developed a good understanding, like the married couple you meet on
This is a new and exciting way to do things of course, but you simply do not patronise Mark Pougatch like this. Especially after he has been Distant Pougatch. Have you been Distant Woods, Laura? No? Didn’t think so. While Woods is a more engaging and broadly inclusive presenter than Pougatch, she smiles a little too hard on camera. No one is asking her to be less happy, but she might try to disguise her wellbeing a little amputation with a child’s saw from those of us at home who are messaging the Samsung chatbot for company.
holiday who finish each other’s sentences – almost valueless as individuals, but fascinating as a pair. They were at their most endearing at the end of the incredible Turkey v Austria game, Matterface hoarse and Dixon verging on effervescent: “Brilliant! Brilliant night of football!”
The highlight of the tournament was the interaction between ITV’s official refereeing correspondent, Christina Unkel, and the pundits. Unkel’s power lies in describing something ridiculous in correct insider argot until it seems reasonable. The apogee of this was reached when Unkel popped in to explain the handball decision leading to Germany’s penalty against Denmark. Speaking with the steady focus of the clinically insane, Unkel introduced the room to the science of the human silhouette and the significance of limb rotation, secondary movement and ambulatory justification “within the context of the play”. It was instructive to
HING NEW
focus on Keane, Neville and
Ange Postecoglou as they found them-
selves in a lost dialogue from Alice in Wonderland. To paraphrase Unkel’s explanation: “The handball rule, being impossible to understand, we have made its explanation impossible to understand... so that you understand.” When she had finished, the hitherto heretical panel were subdued by her awful conviction. Surely there is room for Unkel to have her own show, in which, for example, she explains how death is impossible to Dame Kelly Holmes, Nick Knowles and Lulu.
Clive Tyldesley’s early swansong was a professional, dignified affair, containing very little self-reference and a quick, factual sign-off. In case, though, we forget ourselves in the emotion of the thing and start to remember him as a golden vessel of thought
Their relationship was strong enough to withstand Ally McCoist joining them at the semi-final stage, but, for the viewer, it was at least one too many voices, reviving the sinking feeling experienced sitting near a group on a four-hour train journey, that there is little chance of them all shutting the fuck up for long. Pien Meulensteen seemed less keen to open a badinage channel with her co-commentators, keeping largely to the point and talking straight ahead, like a bus driver. It is not yet clear whether hers is an understated, unobtrusive style, or she simply has no sense of drama.
McCoist’s contributions had passion and humour, although it became obvious that if you wish to really upset him, you simply fail to aim a header in the box back where it came from. Perhaps that’s how his relationships often end. Andros Townsend brought an enlivening eagerness, as if co-commentary were back in its prelapsarian nonage. His background yelp at Albania’s late goal against Croatia was followed up by a cry of “Oh no!” at the final whistle. It is such moments, a paid professional’s spontaneous joy at what football can produce, that survive in the memory.
In the studio, Postecoglou’s level of relaxation suggested a digesting boa constrictor, while Gaizka Mendieta was a courteous, insightful and low-maintenance guest who was just difficult to hear if there happened to be a fly in the room. Eni Aluko, Joleon Lescott and Sheffield Wednesday manager Danny Röhl made up ITV’s B-panel, a panel Oliver Cromwell would have approved of, with a respectful lack of theatrics and humour. Although this was nearly spoiled when Lescott made a joke at 1.40pm on June 20. It didn’t happen again.
Notwithstanding the Anglocentric nature of the discussions and the framing of each of England’s opponents as mere obstacles, ITV’s presentation was largely inoffensive, mostly harmless. And, by allowing Mark Pougatch to say “Mannschaft” a lot, it at least made one person very happy.
REVIEW EUROPEAN CHAMPIONSHIP 2024 WSC 5
