C’mon Saudis! Let us drink a lager or two at your World Cup

With despair going hand in hand with international football, Sean O’Grady asks whether Saudi Arabia might not be persuaded to allow an element of cultural exchange when they host the World Cup in 2034

I don’t know whether His Excellency Khalid bin Bandar Al Saud, the Saudi ambassador to the Court of St James, has ever watched England eke out a nil-nil draw against, say, Slovenia (as I did at last year’s Euros game in Cologne). Harry Kane and the lads didn’t play that badly, to be fair, but it was a typical 90 minutes of agony, and has to be experienced to be fully comprehended. “It’s the hope that kills you”, in the words of the old English proverb.

No doubt he has better things to do, given the vital role his kingdom plays in world affairs. But if he had had to endure such miseries, he might not take such a hard line about the consumption of alcohol in the 2034 tournament, to be held in his beautiful country. He might, in all fairness, be a devoted “Falcon”, a Saudi fan, and been, like all of us, elated when they beat Argentina, Lionel Messi included, at the group stage at Qatar in 2022; but, as that episode perhaps proved, England fans tend to be a more entitled lot.

He seems a cheerful, engaging chap, this high-ranking diplomat, and he puts a reasonable case for abstinence: “Plenty of fun can be had without alcohol. It’s not 100 per cent necessary and if you want to drink after you leave, you’re welcome to, but at the moment we don’t have alcohol. Rather like our weather, it’s a dry country. Everyone has their own culture. We’re happy to accommodate people within the boundaries of our culture but we don’t want to change our culture for someone else.”

With the greatest respect, the ambassador plainly doesn’t understand the meaning of “despair” in the international football context; and how much some nice ice-cold lager (usually German, ironically) can help to dull the pain of disappointment. It may well be possible to have “plenty of fun without alcohol”, but “fun” is not necessarily the usual accompaniment when following the Three Lions.

‘It may well be possible to have “plenty of fun without alcohol”, but “fun” is not necessarily the usual accompaniment when following the Three Lions’ (Getty Images/iStockphoto)

The Saudi tournament is some years away – but it is not too soon to beg the nation’s authorities to reconsider the policy. As far as one can see, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, vastly wealthy and a regional superpower, wants to be a leading player in world football as well. It’s a noble ambition, and very much to be welcomed as its leaders diversify their economy and reduce dependence on hydrocarbons to make a living.

The 2034 finals will be an important stage in the game’s development. But for Saudi to fulfil its potential, then it will need to adapt, in as comfortable way as possible, to the game as it is played and celebrated in its spiritual home, and that means pies, pints, offensive chants, hooliganism and futile post-match analysis at the appropriate and traditional moments. These are rituals that have been crafted with awesome care by England fans since the first recorded football barney, when Preston North End beat Aston Villa 5-0 in an 1885 “friendly”. The press reported the fans as “howling roughs”, still a fitting description for, say, the ruckus at the end of the recent Everton-Liverpool derby.

Please, Khalid bin Bandar Al Saud, won’t you think of the fans? They’ll be suffering enough by the time England fulfil their usual fear of getting kicked out at the quarter-finals stage, no doubt on penalties, and, who knows, maybe to the plucky Saudi Falcons. There would be no more appreciated gesture than to find some discreet way to permit the England supporters to pursue their own national culture at their greatest hour of need. We have our tribal traditions, too.