By Neil Coupe

I got a text from a friend last weekend asking whether I was boycotting the World Cup.

In this context ‘boycotting’ actually meant not watching it on TV, listening to it on the radio and being excluded from various WhatsApp groups, including a prediction one where at the time of writing I am languishing in 34th out of 36 participants. The answer was no. Football, in spite of everything, is just too addictive.

Prior to the Tournament, the bad treatment of construction workers and the poor level of human rights in Qatar were both highlighted, raising the spectre of people refusing to support the event in any way.

Nobody is attempting to defend the human rights abuses, but it is reasonable to recall that the previous World Cup was held in Russia, and in 1978 it was held in Argentina where 30,000 of its citizens were ‘disappeared’ by the State and remain unaccounted for.

People who say they love the game but hate the industry have a point.

For an old-fashioned football fan, the World Cup is supposed to take place in the Summer.

There was always the thrill of seeing mysterious South American players for the first time. Then we would learn a little about their countries (who knew, for example, that Fray Bentos was a town in Uruguay?).

Then as the drama unfolded, we would suddenly find an affinity with some of the more charismatic performers, be they an ageing Cameroonian such as Roger Milla or a Peruvian superstar such as Tefilio Cubillas.

In the modern era, the vast majority of players participating are well-known to the viewers through their day jobs playing in the main European Leagues, so the surprise element is not as great as it was, although I did feel a frisson of excitement reading that a player named Nicholas Williams played for Spain.

Playing the Tournament part way through the football season is unusual, but there is something other-worldly seeing the blue skies and the blazing sun as we approach Christmas.

At the start of the Tournament, one of the lead stories in the UK was that, except for corporate attendees it would not actually be possible to buy a beer in the stadiums on match days.

This was seen almost as a flagrant abuse of a Westerner’s right to consume alcohol at a football match. This, of course, ignores the fact that in the six highest tiers of English football, it is illegal to drink alcohol within sight of the pitch anyway.

It cannot come as that much of a surprise that there would be restrictions of alcohol in a Muslim country. People can always have a drink on the way home. And it is almost Christmas, where beer is likely to be plentiful.

The fact that the Tournament is being held in the Middle East has had an interesting effect on the composition of fans.

At most World Cups, the travelling support is predominantly made up of Europeans, Mexicans, and South Americans. Qatar has enticed vast numbers of people to travel from other places, especially Middle Eastern countries such as Saudi Arabia and Iran.

From our knowledge of the respective Governments, we have very clear preconceptions on Saudis and Iranians.

Seeing happy, often young, people of both genders fully engaged in the matches and enjoying themselves is a very real indication that whether or not we are sharing a warm lager, sport is one element of life that unites us so much more than it divides us.

Maybe against the odds, this World Cup may give us hope for the future.

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