Football - a cultural unifier?

But to many people the thought of a nation holding it's breath over a footballer's injury resonates as completely absurd: Israeli tanks continue to wreak havoc on the Palestinian people in the occupied territories as the world looks on in impotent horror, and the fascist BNP scent local election victory in the racially divided towns of Burnley and Oldham.

And yet, I too felt the nations anguish as news filtered through that Beckham had broken his foot and might not lead England's team out for this summer's World Cup finals. To me it was perversely reassuring in a week when the nation wallowed in the pomp and ceremony of the Queen mother's funeral, that an Argentinean's tackle on 'our' Beckham would restore my sense of British belonging.

This view, however, is not universally shared by Black Britons. For some, whether born here or not, would not support England as that would be seen as siding with the racist thugs who drape themselves in the St George's flag.

But I support England for two reasons: the first is that it's my team and I'll be damned if I'll be bullied out of that notion by a minority of bigots. The second reason is that there are Black players in the England team: Sol Campbell, Kieran Dyer, and the great Emile Heskey, (he, like me is a Leicester boy, born and bred).

That's not to say, however, my rationale is not plagued with contradictions. If England play, for example, a Black nation my loyalty undergoes a 180 degree turn and switches to my African roots, that also extends to Brazil who may not be keen on the association, but are nevertheless seen by us as our African bredren.

My own emotional affinity with Black teams and individual sports men and women goes back as long as I can remember. At junior school I was called Eusebio. I know, you youngsters will be asking Eusebio who? Well, you'll have to wait until the end of this piece, when all will be revealed.

Later on they called me Pele. Not, I hasten to add, because I played football like the great maestro but rather because, I stood out as a black child in a sea of white footballing kids.

To fully adopt Pele's footballing persona I had my financially hard pressed mum buy me a replica of the great man's number ten Brazilian jersey long before, I'm proud to say, it became a radical chic fashion accessory that it is today. For me, as a ten year old in a nearly all-white school, Pele's shirt was a badge of Black pride.

This was at a time when boys would hurl racial abuse at you and chant songs such as 'Send the wogs to Vietnam hallelujah'. I'd ask my mum, why do they want to send us to Vietnam?' With tears streaming down her face she replied 'because they're ignorant, they know no better'.

Despite present racial tensions Britain has moved on from those very dark days when racial abuse was part of daily life, and for some 'Paki' bashing was a national sport. In a changing Britain, David Beckham is now our hero too. So much so that the Asian movie director Gurinder Chadha's highly acclaimed feature film 'Bend it like Beckham' will take its place among this decade's best British films.

What is so encouraging about this film is that it is quintessentially a British tale: an Asian girl doesn't want to make chapatis and samosas like the rest of the women in her family. Instead she would rather play football with the boys and bend the ball like her hero Beckham.

It would be easy to get carried away with the case of football as a powerful cultural unifier. But we shouldn't. Many hoped that the French would positively reevaluate its national identity and policies after the nation's culturally diverse team (more than half the first team were Black) won both the European Championship and the World Cup.

Sadly, it didn't. Black people are still seen as inferior by the white French, and the far Right still holds power in some local authorities.

That said - there is no doubt that at some level sport is a unifier, particularly when the team reflects the country's diversity. What it doesn't do is convince power brokers to give up a few places for the greater good. Equality, I'm afraid, will have to be wrenched from their grubby hands, in and outside of the sports arena, as part of the Black struggle.

Finally, I haven't forgotten. Eusebio. Who was/is Eusebio? The following is from an extract by Eduardo Galeano in his poetic and brilliant book about politics and football: 'Football in the sun and shadow'.

'He was born to shine shoes, sell peanuts or pick pockets. As a child they called him 'Ninguem': no one, nobody. Son of a widowed mother, he played football from dawn to dusk with his many brothers in the empty lots of the shanty-towns.

He set foot on the field running as only someone with the police or poverty nipping at his heels can run. That's how he became champion of Europe at the age of twenty, sprinting in zig-zags. They called him 'The Panther'.

The 66 World Cup his attacks left adversaries scattered on the ground and his goals from impossible angels set off never-ending ovations. Portugal's best player ever was an African from Mozambique. Eusebio: long legs, dangling arms, sad eyes'.