Through the lines

Gareth Southgate and his team have provided plenty of drama over the past seven years. Now they have become stars on a different stage in a show that gets under the skin of fandom and national pride

Early into James Graham’s play Dear England, affable Gareth Southgate (Joseph Fiennes) meets his new coaching staff after reluctantly answering the SOS to be caretaker manager. He ambles into the room with a Partridge-like grin and a bag of muffins. This hasn’t been billed as a comedy but I’m struck by the tone.

Is this going to be a slapstick take on this barmy land and our complex relationship with football/failure? Comic relief with a side order of self-deprecation? That’s a big part of it judging by the revolving cast of caricatures, anyone from the ghosts of miseries past (Graham Taylor, Fabio Capello, Sam Allardyce) to the current crop of mimicked stars (those poor Harrys).

However, as the story moves on from tournament to tournament the plot thickens. We see Southgate try to change the culture around the international team, meeting sizeable resistance both internally and in dark corners of the terraces and internet.

The crestfallen penalty misser from Euro 1996 went on to manage Middlesborough for several years (until relegation) before taking important roles in FA youth development and leading the U21s into Euro 2015. So Southgate was no patsy – experienced in the bitter lows of sport, aware of the unrealistic demands of the fan base, familiar with St George’s Park and the whims of the FA.

But even he probably underestimated the scope of the task. A task that appears very clear on the surface: just win us a bloody cup with this Golden Generation. To get there he would have to perform open-heart surgery on the squad and reconnect them to the supporters.

But why a play and why now, when we haven’t won anything? The answer lies in the scale and complexity of the challenge as England manager. How the fortunes of the team determine so many people’s feelings about their country and themselves. This is psychodrama at the extremes of human emotion, ripe for adaptation.

Being the gaffer is a fool’s errand. A poison chalice. A thankless task. Trying to unite millions as some charismatic figurehead while forever dividing opinion on selection, tactics and substitutions. Author Rory Smith points this out in an essay you can read in the programme.

He describes whoever holds the post as an avatar for the perceived soul of the nation. “[Bobby] Robson failed because he was not as brash, as assertive, as the tabloids of the 1980s (and indeed now) liked to believe that England was,” writes Smith.

“Kevin Keegan, at the turn of the 21^st Century, was deemed lacking because his unabashed passion seemed a little outdated at a time when England was indulging its taste for continental sophistication. The irony, of course, is that Eriksson and Capello did not present as passionate enough for a country yearning to proclaim its greatness once more.”

So what about Southgate? Smith rightly acknowledges the extent of the sh*tstorm Southgate flew into and has had to weather: Brexit, the pandemic, rage against knee-takers, ticketless fans breaching Wembley’s gates, Qatar controversy around LGBTQI+ rights (hold that thought) and a cost of living crisis.

In short, an England that feels as divided as it’s ever been in my lifetime. And yet, time and again, he has been gracious enough to take on these issues. To respond with care to questions about matters not directly related to the game. Some would argue, unnecessarily.

The Guardian’s football writer Barney Ronay referenced Southgate’s powers of tolerance and his willingness to protect his players a few months ago. He detects a certain weariness in the England manager. A perpetual damned if you do, damned if you don’t. He is “an embodiment of the falling short of that liberal voice, a decent man with ideas of right and wrong rubbing up against a thoroughly indecent world”.

So how might he be remembered if, perhaps when, it all goes sour? “He has been true to himself. To what he thinks and what he feels,” says Smith. “He has reflected the England and Englishness – decent, honourable, courageous – that he himself believes in. In doing so, he has been able, at times, to do what England really wants the manager to do: to help the country discover just a little sense of itself.”

Southgate apparently met with Graham to offer some input but is reluctant to see the play. I would pay good money to watch him watch the play. He’s an unassuming guy. You can imagine the thought of a show based on his tenure and named after his heartfelt letter to the country would make him cringe in embarrassment. Here is someone who would rather not be the centre of attention, least of all in a piece of entertainment.

He might shake his head and say, when I called the players role models this isn’t what I had in mind. During this “fictionalised account of the struggles and successes of England’s football teams”, we hear quotes from the real Southgate as well as players including Raheem Sterling  (Kel Matsena) and Marcus Rashford (Darragh Hand).

One line from that letter still feels like the manager’s hill: “I have never believed that we should just stick to football.” In that short sentence lies the core of his beliefs and the crux of his man management philosophy (perhaps also the rod for his own back).

To make a production about this collective story is to rightly recognise a profound change in the relationship between players and (most) supporters. One that is built on more than just getting results. We are a long way from Iceland. Years before, Clive Martin wrote about watching a qualifier in a usually patriotic Romford that seemed “bored of England”.

Yes, Southgate will be judged on his record (second only to Fabio Capello’s win percentage) and trophy cabinet. But he has restored national pride by assembling a closer squad than we have seen in years, built on values such as trust, compassion, empathy and loyalty.

This evolution in the England set up reflects the wider changes in society around awareness of mental health and attitudes towards masculinity. Whether you subscribe to these changes or not, they are happening and the play taps into them.

Earlier in the year, during the show’s first run, cast members Lewis Shephard (Dele Alli) and Will Close (Harry Kane) talked about the pressure on young professional footballers and the weight of expectation in an England shirt. Both these things garner very little sympathy from those who only see all the money, fame, adulation … and mistakes.

“How can you put a price on a human life?” asks Shepherd. “But football players actually do have a price, and a value. It dehumanises them, in a way. They’re like: my life is football, I train six times a week, I play three times a week. It’s one of many things that makes viewers and fans lose touch with them as people.”

“From the audience’s perspective, there’s this kind of recurring trait of hating on England,” adds Close. “Where does that come from? Why are our expectations always so high? And why do we tend to anger so quickly? Violence, racism… Why is that happening and how can you unlock some of that?”

Southgate has assembled a side that can go out and represent more than someone’s philosophy on the beautiful game. In the process, he has taken England further in a major tournament than any other manager in the past 50 years. Coincidence?

Dear England allows us to go behind the scenes of this transformation. To look in the mirror, to an extent, without turning the evening into a group therapy session. To go down memory lane between 2016 and 2022. To hope and despair all over again … and maybe hope some more.

Fiennes channels Southgate with uncanny meekness and sincerity, adding an uncharacteristic roar when he’s trying to motivate his players. Look at the way he strokes his hirsute chin in thoughtfulness, the way he celebrates with fists clenched. It’s more than believable.

The pace of the show is frenetic at times, the mood often boisterous and volatile, but there are deep pockets of space for contemplation. It’s impressive how Graham, director Rupert Goold and the team have managed to compress so much time, so many incidents and characters, into around 150 free-flowing minutes that often reach fever pitch.

Dr Pippa Grange (Dervla Kirwan) played a crucial role as Head of People & Team Development at the FA during Southgate’s first phase. She features prominently. The newly appointed manager points to his head, gesturing that the problem is up there, not on the pitch. He believes in focusing on the person first, not the player. In Grange he finds the perfect ally. She can see that it’s radical for an England manager to care in this way, even if he can’t. 

Prior to her arrival, the onus was on the players to turn to a psychologist, people like Steve Peters before the 2014 World Cup. With Grange in camp, this work becomes proactive and foundational. The players begin to reframe their fear of failure as an opportunity to learn. The culture coach encouraging them to “win deep, not shallow” – finding a reason to pursue success other than to avoid not feeling good enough.

Penalties. Sigh. I know the history, I have felt the pain. The manner of those major tournament exits. But seeing the results listed on a stark timeline came as quite a shock.

WC 1990 – Semi-final
Euro 1996 – Semi-final
WC 1998 – Last 16
Euro 2004 – Quarter-final
WC 2006 – Quarter-final
Euro 2012 – Quarter-final

The shootout has been the biggest question mark against the big-match temperament of England players through the years. It’s a source of inner conflict in the story and rightly celebrated as one of greatest triumphs of Southgate’s reign. He and Grange focus on mindset and building resilience. But there are also practical changes on the pitch.

Graham has done his research. We learn that, pre-2018, England were among the quickest at taking penalties. So spot-kickers were instructed to slow down. Players practised after long training sessions to simulate that ‘heavy legs’ feeling after 120 minutes of battle.

Pickford was encouraged to jump around and touch the crossbar before every penalty to make the goal appear smaller. Here, I must commend Josh Barrow who nails the Everton keeper’s fist-pumping exuberance.

One big Grange belief is that “results are just the outcome, not your worth.” Freeing if you are an under-pressure footballer but acceptable only up to a  point for desperate supporters. With her help, Southgate’s England break the dreaded penalty curse against Columbia at the 2018 World Cup, only to relapse in the Euro 2020 final against Italy. England’s knockout shootout record now stands at two wins out of nine.

Despite the uptick in optimism and belief catalysed by the manager’s impact, the racist abuse directed towards three black footballers is beyond sobering and is rightly dwelled on in Dear England. It shows us how fragile unity can be in football and the pernicious forces that still lurk beneath this shiny but fraying new suit of national identity.

Sidenote: I don’t remember Messrs Pearce and Waddle, Batty and Ince, 1998’s enfant terrible Beckham, even Southgate getting anywhere near the same level of abuse. Is that only because they all faltered pre-social media?

Of course, we all know what happened against France in 2022. That is where we leave it: with unanswered questions about Southgate and his players in key moments. Despite qualifying for Euro 2024 with zero losses – beyond the scope of this play – the manager continues to be criticised for his conservatism and loyalty to regulars such as Maguire and Jordan Henderson.

Same as it ever was. But in the case of the latter, there is a baffling inconsistency in how the manager addresses matters outside football. Even if the majority of supporters are expressing their disapproval of the Al-Ettifaq player’s selection based on merit rather than his morals, to say their booing “defies logic” is foolish. There should be limits to loyalty as a manager.

Back to the future. Can England do it against the big teams in big tournaments? Keep possession, score goals, win another shootout when it really really matters? At the beginning of Dear England, Southgate talks about this team writing its own story. “And what do all stories have? he asks. “A beginning, a middle and an end.” In other words, three acts.

The 2022 World Cup was supposed to be the great climax. But if you truly believe in writing your own story, who says you can’t make it four? Who knows, Euro 2024 might yet bring victory, vindication and redemption for this group.

A couple of thoughts on production… I really enjoyed the variety of ways that flashpoints and iconic moments are depicted and how different voices are introduced into the narrative. Older Gareth watching ’96 Gareth looking dejected after his miss, which leads us briskly into the making of the Three Lions’ manager. There is a word-on-the-street chorus of fans offering their opinion on his appointment, anyone from the builder and nurse to the Deliveroo worker.

Someone spray-painting a wall with the ubiquitous “It’s Coming Home”, Broudie, Baddiel & Skinner’s chorus reclaimed as an uplifting rallying cry (with varying degrees of sarcasm) for a new era of optimism. Remember when that was the punchline to almost everything, from ads to memes? Other countries were confused and irritated.

On sartorial matters, you will laugh at the unveiling of the iconic waistcoat (alleged to have boosted M&S sales by 35%) followed by the manager’s considered switch to a more relaxed polo shirt and blazer. Very sports casual.

Social media-like visuals appearing on screen to inject an ‘as it happened’ energy through public reaction.

Music, so often synonymous with England’s fortunes in major tournaments, is milked for all its nostalgia, whether it’s getting a stomp on to ‘Vindaloo’ or feelin’ “so good, so good, so good” as everyone belts out Neil Diamond’s ‘Sweet Caroline’. Now also adopted as the official good times tune of the Lionesses.

What about the unlikely return of Atomic Kitten though? Coaxed out of retirement by chanting fans to tell us “football’s coming home again”. Why do we do it to ourselves?

Southgate’s counterpart, a trophy-lifting Sarina Wiegman (Crystal Condie), makes an appearance to offer him some encouragement and certainly not to rub his face in it. “Your clock is still ticking,” she insists, after the team misses out in the final.

Pay attention to the use of movement in Dear England, and not just the obligatory training, scoring and celebration sequences. How inflatable unicorns feature in a choreographed slo-mo sequence, a nod to their appearance in relaxing pool sessions during the team’s run at the 2018 World Cup.

A menacing circle of fans closing in on the likes of Bukayo Saka (Denzel Baidoo) and Marcus Rashford as they take those fateful penalties at Euro 2020. There’s even a Maybot among some of the more unexpected cameos, reminding us how annoying it is when politicians try to ride the crest of any cultural moment.

Designer Es Devlin has conceived a really flexible and evocative set that effortlessly morphs from FA office to changing room, from training ground to penalty spot. There’s a clever vista of screens, reminiscent of a stadium top, on which multiple Jamie Carraghers are shown buckling under the pressure of a tournament penalty shootout (though he did bang in his first attempt).

It's easy to get caught up in Dear England, even if you don’t like the game. As Fiennes says, “It’s a prism, a vehicle to explore matters outside football.” The importance of “participating with joy”, he suggests, particularly in a creative endeavour. More broadly, it’s about collective identity, fandom, leadership and values. Above all, teamwork.

As I write this in the wake of England’s painful yet valiant exit in a Rugby World Cup semi-final, the perennial challenge of management in international sport feels very real. Months ago, Borthwick’s team was in disarray. But heart and tactics can go a long way. Suddenly, we have something to build on.

When England’s footballers lost that final to Italy, ITV pundit Roy Keane commiserated them, then talked about them needing to take their medicine. That sometimes “you have to lose to win”. Part of that is learning from your mistakes and adapting to circumstances.

Which brings us back to the head coach. In a knockout game, and possibly trailing, will he cast off his inherent pragmatism? Will he take destiny into his own hands, away from the penalty spot, and really go after the top teams?

Southgate has come further than most for England in trying to solve that great conundrum of national cohesion. How to reconcile the talent of individuals as a collective that is greater than the sum of its parts, and to then align this with the hopes of the country. Easily forgotten though next to a gleaming Jules Rimet.  

Dear England might feel premature to some people, like a documentary to celebrate the trophy you haven’t lifted yet. But it’s far more introspective than triumphant. If anything, it’s a prelude to what comes next. A story in the making and we can all play a part. 

Dear England is on at the Olivier Theatre in London from 10 March to 24 May 2025, followed by The Lowry in Manchester from 29 May to 29 June.

UPDATE: You can watch the play in cinemas through National Theatre Live.