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And then he appears. His big German smile, he is happy, he is proud, he is everything. He is talking sense. He knows exactly what it means and he knows you feel it and deep down he knows I need to feel it and he wants us all to feel everything and be a part of everything. The emotion pours over him in a wave and he has to step away from the questions, away from the plaudits and there, in that moment, I am transported to where he is. In that moment, I can’t help myself. I text friends, we set a location. Despite the overwhelming risks associated with going out, we collectively decide that in this one instance, we are going to meet. We are going to be around each other. We may not hug, we may not dance. But fuck it we’re going to sing, we’re to going to look each other in the eye and take a few moments to see that through all of it, we have arrived. Through the pain, the disappointment, the close encounters and the near misses, we are fucking here. Champions of England, champions of Europe and champions of the world. Everything he promised, he delivered and everything we wanted, whether it was how we’ve wanted it or not, has been revealed. It’s a strange time in our collective existence. People are dying. Racism runs strong in our society, in the systems that define our lives. People are divided and football seems like nothing more than a game, a distraction from the progress that our societies desperately need. But healthy change cannot be born from unhealthy people. And healthy people need moments in which they can connect, in which they can love and in which they feed off each other’s emotions and energies. So here we are. On a day that something you have waited so long for, you are asked to be restrained, asked to be something other than you. I hope you fought it. Perhaps it’s wrong. Perhaps I should hope you stayed locked away in cubby holes, wearing masks and scrubbing yourselves with bleach. But I don’t. I hope you were you today. I hope you looked your friends in the eye the same way I did mine. I hope you felt like kings and queens of the world, if only for a moment, because you are. For every prick who chided you that we hadn’t won the league. For every Manc who told you this would never be. For every blue nose who laughed when we fell short. I hope you were you. Coronavirus will be here whether you were or you weren’t. Where I live, it’s only going one way and it’s doubtful anyone will feel safe even opening a window come that trophy lift. At least we had today. At least we had this moment, where we were ourselves, if only for a short while. That may in fact mean as much as any trophy in the short term, especially since no one knows what the long term holds. I hope you were you. You beauty. Up the Champions of England. Article by David Rice – @davidjrice83