An Unexpected Tearjerker

When Chloe Kelly smashed in her penalty on Sunday night, I felt that now-familiar surge of emotion. Bottom lip quivering, lump in the throat, the whole works. I don’t know why this keeps happening in my latter middle age. Maybe it’s hormones. Or maybe it’s the same reason I get choked up when someone fixes a dusty old jukebox on The Repair Shop or when the movie ‘Up’ comes on at Christmas. There’s something deeply moving about a good ending to a complex tale.

Why It Matters More Than Just Football

Women’s football has had a hell of a journey. These players carry the invisible weight of all the mockery thrown at them—at school, in the certain sections of the media, and from men who’ve achieved the square root of fuck all except from being perennial winners of barstool bullshitter award down at their local. That’s why watching the women win doesn’t feel like just a sporting victory. It feels a bit like justice. Vindication. Like a well-aimed shot at stunted prefrontal cortexes.

And this is just the beginning. Women’s football is accelerating—more girls are playing, coaching is improving, and while the physicality will never match the men’s game, technically it’s advancing at an astonishing pace. England will need to stay sharp though; Spain, for one, are already ahead in the technical department. What they don’t seem to have yet is England’s mental resilience. That could change. In fact, it probably will. All the other European nations are also catching up fast.

Don’t Patronise the Men or the Women

What’s not helping anyone is this recurring nonsense about how the England men should “learn a thing or two” from the women about belief, bravery and spirit. Come on, that’s just silly isn’t it? Did nobody watch the last men’s Euros last summer? They were about as cohesive as chickens with a fox in their pen and still somehow made the final, dragging themselves there through a mixture of spectacular last-minute goals, blind faith, and sheer stubbornness. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was full of fight. In fact the women’s path to this year’s final almost mirrored it. Hapless at times but battling to the end.

To even make it in men’s professional football, you need to be extraordinary. You battle through school, county, academy systems, out-competing kids from every continent just to sit on a Premier League bench. It’s not impossible to be a Premier League footballer but’s it’s as near as it gets. CEOs of football clubs don’t dish out £200k a week to players who cave in. These aren’t young lads who need lessons in drive—they’re the best of millions who tried but weren’t quite good enough. So stop comparing. It’s not flattering, it’s reductive, and as far as I can tell, it doesn’t help the women’s game either.

Equal Pay: A Case of Timing, Not Injustice

And then, of course, we get the inevitable “equal pay” row. Let’s park emotion and look at numbers, shall we? Right now, men’s football generates billions. Clubs like Liverpool (£178 million just for winning the Premier League) rake in vast fortunes from broadcast deals, merchandise, sponsors and ticket sales. The players are the product—they’re getting their share of the pie. Yes, it’s obscene. No, I wouldn’t turn it down either. I argued with someone today who said a doctor should earn more than a footballer. Not unless the doctor has a Nike uniform, a Sky Sports contract and 50,000 fans watching him perform colonoscopies on a Saturday afternoon, he won’t. I rate someone who might save my life highly but I don’t regard him as a form of entertainment I’d buy a season ticket for.

That doesn’t mean women players shouldn’t get paid more. I hope they get everything they can. Good luck to them. The £78k they apparently each got for winning the tournament is a cracking start, and most of them are set to earn very handsomely in the years to come through sponsorship and salaries. Good. However, until the global audiences, TV rights and sponsorship catches up with the men’s game, if were we’re brutally honest, it’s basic economics, not injustice.

Let the Win Stand on Its Own

So here’s where I’m at. I’m proud of the Lionesses. They’ve achieved something special, lifted much of a nation’s mood in what often feels a dark time, and inspired a new generation of girls to lace up boots rather than ballet shoes. That’s a legacy worth weeping over—however embarrassing it looks on the chez lounge next to the dog.

But please—let’s not turn their triumph into another reason to bash the men for easy journalism clicks. The women don’t need that. They’ve already proved they’re more than good enough on their own terms. Let’s just enjoy the moment. A bunch of brilliant women did something exceptional. That should be more than enough.