One of my earliest sporting memories was watching rugby on the TV with my father. I guess it must have been about 1975, and that legendary Wales team were beating absolutely everyone in sight. I liked football, but didn't really watch it much at that age. Hard to imagine for some now, but it wasn't really on the telly much back then. (the first live televised 'top tier' game of the modern age was not until 1983). My old man always said it was full of 'poofs kissing each other' anyway. Not really a man's sport at all. So it was rugby for me, sat in front of the telly for Five Nations matches on a Saturday afternoon. And when my Dad exploded with joy after a Gareth Edwards' try, running around the room like a court jester on amphetamines, I knew the Welsh jersey meant something very special to him. So the Dai was cast as it were.
Despite being born and living in England there was never really a question of ever supporting England. The rugby Five Nations was all about the rivalry between 'the Celts' and the English, with the French thrown in for good measure and the odd gallic shrug. Supporting a fabulously exciting team who chucked the oval ball around with buckets of flair was easy to do, but the truth is I had no choice. "You're Welsh son, don't forget it!" That sort of thing. Except my mother is Scottish. So technically I was a pure-blooded celt who happened to live in England. What's a boy to do?
My love affair with the round balled-game came a bit later after I started playing it. Everybody was playing football. All you needed was a ball and some jumpers. Rugby? I didn't really have the physique. And all those complicated rules, it's not a game for playing down the park. My earliest memories of a football World Cup were of the 1978 tournament. All ticker-tape, bad hair and, well, no England. So of course with no sign of Wales I naturally supported Scotland. Strange to consider now that Ally McLeod's team went to that tournament with serious ambitions to win it. Archie Gemmill's goal aside there was little to cheer for the Tartan Army. But subsequently during the Home Internationals I found myself wanting Scotland AND Wales to beat England. Didn't happen very often, but oh when it did that was something special to savour.
Something strange happened in Italia '90, I found myself out watching the games a lot in pubs and finding it easy to set aside my natural prejudice. Second Summer of Love? The brilliance of 'World in Motion'? Gazza? The legendary Bobby Robson? Can't work out why, but it didn't last.
In the many years between it's been simple really. Wales all the way, through thick and mainly thin. Even saw (and enjoyed) Wales beat Scotland twice in one crazy week back in 2004, once at rugby and then at football! So maybe I'm best described as an Englishman with the blood of a celt. Easy to see why supporting 'Great Britain' (Olympics, British Lions etc) is so appealing for me. No complexities, no twisted loyalties.
So can I support England during this World Cup? No, sorry. I have no axe to grind, no chip on the shoulder. Despite being my country I'm afraid they're just not my team and never have been. The partisan nature of football fans often requires us to ask that old clichéd question: Club or Country? Royals winning a major trophy or England winning the World Cup? Well, obviously for me there's no contest.
