The Cult: Gareth Southgate

Gareth Southgate has at last hit the target by becoming the latest inductee to The Cult. You can (in fact you must) read our previous entries here.

Here's what I reckon: England fans love penalty shootouts. Not in the way that a Frenchman loves a silky Beaujolais; not in the way that an Italian loves the shape of a beautiful women. We love them in the most peculiarly English way, comprised of 80% desire to see our pre-conceived prejudices grimly born out, and 20% a slender, unquenchable hope for something better. That sweet, sweet poison.

When, in the early stages of extra-time against Italy at Euro 2012, or Portugal in 2006, or 2004, or Argentina in 1998, the commentator begins saying, nay, advising, that England 'will be looking to penalties', what does he really sound like to you except a hopeless junkie? We're talking about a format that England is running a 0/5 success-rate at since the semis of Euro 96. And yet still he, and you and I, want it. Just to be there the one time it actually works. Despite what you know you'll inevitably see, which is someone like Gary Cahill smashing it off the post and trudging back to the halfway line with that head-bowed look captioned England at major tournaments.

Which couldn't be more diametrically opposed to my first experience of England at major tournaments. In that incarnation, when England played a nationalist derby (vs Scotland) it included one of the greatest goals ever scored in an England shirt; when they played a top side (vs the Netherlands) they smashed them off the park; and, and, when they went to penalties (vs Spain in the quarter-final) it was about the best thing I'd ever seen. The commentator made some mutterings I didn't understand about why Stuart Pearce's penalty was important to him: he scored. Shearer scored. Gascoigne scored. Platt scored. The Spaniards missed twice. And so – and this is a cruel thing to admit – with the score at 1-1 in extra-time in the semi against the Germans, when Anderton and then Gascoigne missed unmissable chances, I was happy. It meant it would go to penalties which, for the first and last time in my football-watching life, in that warm '90s bubble, England had a 100% record at.

And I felt it. Induced out of blissful naivety, as he walked up. Even though at that point I knew nothing of England penalty-takers apart from that they always scored, I knew Gareth Southgate wouldn't. I can still almost feel my expression changing, as I thought which of Paul Ince or Darren Anderton was going to take the sixth kick, and saw that virginal, lip-chewing centre-back walking up from the halfway line.

You can probably sense that, though Gareth Southgate had a long and relatively successful career as a player, and then a short and somewhat unsuccessful career as a club manager, those things don't make the biggest of blots on my radar. When he was stood there in the post-game talking all spiffy and earnest in his suit, I always felt that at some point the interviewer should put a gentle hand on his arm and say "come on mate, you're that twat who missed the penalty at Euro 96 aren't you?" And equally, I always got the impression that after a long, lip-chewing pause Southgate would give an ashen-faced nod and say "yep, I am. That's what I am."

Cruel indeed that a career which presumably involved more repressed desires to binge on Skittles and stay up late watching re-runs of Da Ali G Show than any of us could ever countenance, still had the single effect of making the hackles rise, slightly guiltily, in people like me, every time he appeared on screen.

There were others, of course. In fact if you've got a minute – and only from the Euro 96 semi onwards – there were Paul Ince and David Batty, David Beckham and Darius Vassell, Frank Lampard, Steven Gerrard and Jamie Carragher (the absolute comedy nadir, who scored, was asked to retake it, and missed), and the two Ashleys, Young and Cole. But they are all Southgate's heirs.

Predictably, it's the Germans who say, 'once is once, twice is always.' Once was at Italia '90; twice was Southgate's meek, not-quite-left, not-quite-high sidefoot at Wembley six years later. I dearly wish any England player would speak candidly about the black-magic grip that penalties have on the team's mind, instead of all the rain-dances and goat-sacrifice offerings they make for the press about how we practice them in training, it's just sticking the ball in the back of the net from twelve yards, we're professionals and it shouldn't be a big deal. Hodgson with that muddy accent talking about how he hasn't given them a moment's thought. And so the tension grows. That sweet, sweet poison. For a little English fun, I pick Kane (Scores) Barkley (Misses) Cahill (Misses) Vardy (Scores) Walcott (Misses) for the next one.

Tell me they paid you a lot to do this. Tell me some ad-land type didn't just sweet-talk you with "Come on Gareth mate it would be such a boss way to show you don't take yourself too seriously by putting a paper bag with eyeholes cut into it on your head and having two other blokes who missed penalties yell 'Miss' repeatedly at the waitress, yeah, and then you'll try to choke up the words 'I feel much better now' about the banging Pizza Hut pizza you're eating and then they'll say something, and then you'll walk into a doorpost on the way out. Yeah? Sound ace?"

Tell me that didn't happen. Tell me they had to build a swimming pool stuffed with fifties at your house to get you to agree to it. Tell me our national shame is at least worth that much. It's entirely possible that the first time I ever felt truly, face-burningly embarrassed by the actions of an adult who wasn't from my family was when I saw Gareth Southgate in that advert. This was, I learned, how England celebrated their appearances at major tournaments. Two years later, because there were effigies of David Beckham to burn, no-one even seemed to particularly notice Paul Ince and David Batty slinking in through the airport's back door.

Just prior to David Batty taking the final penalty vs Argentina, 1998. Commentator Brian Moore to co-commentator Kevin Keegan: "Do you back him to score, quickly, yes or no? Keegan (confidently): "Yes"

Shortly afterwards, with the sound of a football that someone has just jammed a sharpened stud into: "No."

Words @TobySprigings / Illustration @Dan_Draws