Euro 2024 – England-Switzerland quarter-final | Jude Bellingham, the new hero of the Three Lions

Millions of young English people grew up reading Roy of the Rovers, a comic strip that, in its prime during the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, sold up to 450,000 copies every week. Who was Roy? Roy Race, the star footballer for Melchester Rovers, the fictional club from an equally fictional town in northern England, with whom he won nine Premier League titles, eight FA Cups, three League Cups, three European Cup Winners’ Cups, one UEFA Cup, and four Cup Winners’ Cups. I don’t believe I’ve missed any, but I can’t be entirely sure. All this happened within thirty-nine seasons, because Roy aged at the slower pace of Commissioner San Antonio. This is the price of success.

He was so popular that when his wife, Penny Laine (a nod to Liverpool, of course), left him in the early 1980s, the “news” was reported on the BBC and ITV news. His career ended as abruptly as his magazine, on May 14, 1993, when the helicopter he was piloting crashed, and he lost his left foot in the accident. This gives some idea of the improbable stories concocted for him by screenwriter Tom Tully, as improbable as Roy’s exploits with his beloved Rovers, for whom he also became manager and played alongside a French ace named Pierre Dupont.

England saved by a bell

Roy was a specialist in scoring goals in the most desperate situations, and what goals he scored! Diving headers, Bobby Charlton-style long-distance missiles, Jude Bellingham-style acrobatic overhead kicks, yes. This makes sense because Bellingham is his heir.

Jude Bellingham and Harry Kane following the second goal once morest Slovakia

It was all regarding the Real Madrid player following his brilliant display in the final moments of an unexpected victory once morest Slovakia. The Sun’s front page set the tone: SAVED BY THE BELL (literally, “saved by the bell”), with a photo of the prodigy suspended between the pitch and the stars in which England had lost its head and found hope once more. Thanks to Jude, the Duncan Edwards of the 21st century, the spiritual son of Roy Race, the providential man, with whom… who knows?

This is not something new. Roy of the Rovers owed his popularity not only to the daydreams that all little boys (not little girls at the time, not yet) had in the playgrounds, but also because he personified one of the most enduring traits of the English football psyche: the faith in a savior, in a providential man who, when all seems lost, goes looking for victory where no one else would dare to go – and does it with panache, to boot. A sort of Winston Churchill mixed with Ernest Shackleton and Sir Edmund Hillary, with a handsome hunk to boot.

Matthews, Charlton, Beckham, Rooney… et Bellingham

The history of English football might be summed up as a parade of footballers who have assumed this role with varying degrees of success. For a long time, a very long time, it was Stanley Matthews; then Bobby Charlton; then Kevin Keegan; closer to us, Paul Gascoigne; David Beckham (the one with the last-minute free-kick once morest Greece, which qualified the Three Lions for the 2002 World Cup); Steven Gerrard, the hero of Cardiff and Istanbul, a specialist in brilliant moves with his Reds if not with England; Wayne Rooney who, if he had only been in good physical condition, would have given his country the 2006 or 2010 World Cups. Many believed him, in any case. And, now, Jude of the Rovers without whom this Euro would have come to an abrupt end a few days ago for Gareth Southgate and his team.

Jude Bellingham equalises with an incredible overhead kick in added time for England once morest Slovakia

This faith is the fruit and confession of failure. One might even say that it feeds on this failure and these repetitions. Losing becomes a reason to believe. When a team is less than the sum of its parts, as has been the case for decades for England, the temptation is to project onto an individual the expectation that it has been impossible to satisfy through a collective. And Bellingham meets this. He has the personality and the talent for it. The process is automatic, unconscious, even. It is based on the conviction that a single human being, if he is sufficiently gifted, ambitious, and courageous to do so, can shape the destiny of an entire nation at will. A psychiatrist might call this “the Roy Race syndrome.”

Let him write his own legend and that of England at the same time.

One of the questions that was asked of Bellingham following the Deus Ex machina of June 30 was “Who writes your scripts?”, to which he replied “it’s me ” . Nor is the man lacking in nerve. But the question was not new. It is a classic of English sports journalism, the question that was asked by a teammate of cricketer Ian Botham when he equaled, and then broke, the world record for the number of batsmen bowled out by his bowling once morest New Zealand in 1986. Botham had just returned from a months-long suspension for admitting to smoking marijuana. It took him only one ball to become joint record-holder, which, in the context of a Test match that was supposed to last five days, was almost absurd. But such was Botham, a force of nature who had so often given the finger to destiny.

That’s what England wants from Bellingham: to write his own legend and England’s at the same time. To be Botham. To be Gerrard and Rooney, with the added bonus of success. To be Captain Bligh of the Bounty left adrift by the mutineers thousands of leagues from the nearest harbor and who nevertheless managed to reach port safely. Let him be Roy of the Rovers, quite simply.

Roy of the Rovers: A Legendary Comic Strip

Millions of young English people have grown up with Roy of the Rovers, a comic strip that, in its heyday – in the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s – sold up to 450,000 copies a week. Who was Roy? Roy Race, the star footballer for Melchester Rovers, the fictional club from an equally fictional town in the north of England with whom he won nine Premier League titles, eight FA Cups, three League Cups, three European Cup Winners’ Cups, one UEFA Cup and four Cup Winners’ Cups. I don’t think I’ve forgotten any, but I wouldn’t swear to it. All in the space of thirty-nine seasons, because Roy aged at the slower pace of a Commissioner San Antonio. Such is the price of success.

He was so popular that when his wife Penny Laine (a nod to Liverpool, of course) left him in the early 1980s, the “news” was reported on the BBC and ITV news. His career ended as abruptly as his magazine, on 14th May 1993, when the helicopter he was piloting crashed and he lost his left foot in the accident; which gives some idea of ​​the improbable stories concocted for him by screenwriter Tom Tully, as improbable as Roy’s exploits with his beloved Rovers, of which he also became manager and for whom he played for a time alongside a French ace named Pierre Dupont.

England saved by a bell

Roy was a specialist in scoring goals in the most desperate situations, and what goals he was! Diving headers, Bobby Charlton-style long-distance missiles, Jude Bellingham-style acrobatic overhead kicks, yes. Which makes sense, because Bellingham is his heir.

Jude Bellingham and Harry Kane following the second goal once morest Slovakia

It was all regarding the Real Madrid player following his brilliant display in the final moments of an unexpected victory once morest Slovakia. The Sun’s front page set the tone: SAVED BY THE BELL (literally, “saved by the bell”), with a photo of the prodigy suspended between the pitch and the stars in which England had lost its head and found hope once more. Thanks to Jude, the Duncan Edwards of the 21st century, the spiritual son of Roy Race, the providential man, with whom…who knows?

This is not something new. Roy of the Rovers owed his popularity not only to the daydreams that all little boys – not little girls at the time, not yet – had in the playgrounds, but also because he personified one of the most enduring traits of the English football psyche: the faith in a saviour, in a providential man who, when all seems lost, goes looking for victory where no one else would dare to go – and does it with panache, to boot. A sort of Winston Churchill mixed with Ernest Shackleton and Sir Edmund Hillary, with a handsome hunk to boot.

Matthews, Chartlon, Beckham, Ronney… et Bellingham

The history of English football might be summed up as a parade of footballers who have assumed this role with varying degrees of success. For a long time, a very long time, it was Stanley Matthews; then Bobby Charlton; then Kevin Keegan; closer to us, Paul Gascoigne; David Beckham – the one with the last-minute free-kick once morest Greece, which qualified the Three Lions for the 2002 World Cup; Steven Gerrard, the hero of Cardiff and Istanbul, a specialist in brilliant moves with his Reds if not with England; Wayne Rooney who, if he had only been in good physical condition, would have given his country the 2006 or 2010 World Cups. Many believed him, in any case. And, now, Jude of the Roverswithout whom this Euro would have come to an abrupt end a few days ago for Gareth Southgate and his team.

Jude Bellingham equalises with an incredible overhead kick in added time for England once morest Slovakia

This faith is the fruit and confession of failure. One might even say that it feeds on this failure and these repetitions. Losing becomes a reason to believe. When a team is less than the sum of its parts, as has been the case for decades for England, the temptation is to project onto an individual the expectation that it has been impossible to satisfy through a collective. And Bellingham meets this. He has the personality and the talent for it. The process is automatic, unconscious, even. It is based on the conviction that a single human being, if he is sufficiently gifted, ambitious and courageous to do so, can shape the destiny of an entire nation at will. A psychiatrist might call this “the Roy Race syndrome”.

Let him write his own legend and that of England at the same time.

One of the questions that was asked in Bellingham following the Deus Ex machina of June 30 was “Who writes your scripts?“, to which he replied: “it’s me“. Nor is the man lacking in nerve. But the question was not new. It is a classic of English sports journalism, the question that was asked by a team-mate of cricketer Ian Botham when he equalled, and then broke, the world record for the number of batsmen bowled out by his bowling once morest New Zealand in 1986. Botham had just returned from a months-long suspension for admitting to smoking marijuana. It took him only one ball to become joint record-holder, which, in the context of a Test match that was supposed to last five days, was almost absurd. But such was Botham, a force of nature who had so often given the finger to destiny.

That’s what England want from Bellingham: to write his own legend and England’s at the same time. To be Botham. To be Gerrard and Rooney, with the added bonus of success. To be Captain Bligh of the Bountyleft adrift by the mutineers thousands of leagues from the nearest harbor and who nevertheless managed to reach port safely. Let him be Roy of the Rovers, quite simply.