Advertisement

It's not coming home: the seven stages of post-World Cup grief

To rub salt in the wound, he won't get his deposit back on that costume - TASS
To rub salt in the wound, he won't get his deposit back on that costume - TASS

And so, after 49651 passes, 219 yellow cards, 12 own goals, one goalless draw and three lions on a shirt, the 2018 FIFA World Cup in Russia is over. But what now?

After a month of it dominating your life, how will you cope with losing something so all-consuming, so emotional, so nightly, so unifying? No, not Love Island. We’re still talking about the World Cup. What will you do with yourself in the three full weeks until the Premier League season?

It is time to break down the seven stages of World Cup grief. Nobody is saying it’ll be easy, but we can make it through this, if we just know the signs.

1. Shock and denial

This is inevitable, and it’s perfectly OK. People will say to you, “what will you do without the World Cup?” and you’ll just ignore them. Instead, you’ll buy a bag of Doritos, grab a now-discounted crate of Budweiser, the Official Beer of the FIFA World Cup™, pretend to switch on the television at 7pm, and sob gently for 45 minutes while imagining another international football match.

You might switch it on and see the One Show has returned to its usual time to replace it, but you’re unlikely to be stable enough to take in Matt Baker’s face, so it’s best to keep the TV off. At 7.45pm you might mutter something like, “yes Gary, I agree… Oh Rio that’s a bit harsh…” but you’ll mainly be crying. And that’s fine. It’s all part of the process.

2. Pain and guilt

Eventually you’ll stop watching imaginary World Cup fixtures and instead experience acute, excruciating pain. The sight of Dele Alli’s boohooMAN adverts is enough to get you going, and you haven’t been to North London in weeks for fear of accidentally seeing a sign for Southgate. Budweiser, the Official Beer of the FIFA World Cup™, is now banned from your household, and zoos are now an unacceptable choice of day trip, in case you face an enclosure in which three lions reside.

Was it your fault they didn’t beat Croatia? Should you have gone out and supported them from the stands? Could the negative feelings you had about Jordan Pickford before the tournament have ruined his confidence? Why didn’t you foresee this happening and take out Mario Mandžukić when you saw him play at Wembley a few years ago?

3. Anger

You get a waistcoat and burn it in the garden. You tweet David Baddiel with the words “it isn’t though, is it?” 789 times. You’re back on the Budweiser, the Official Beer of the FIFA World Cup™, but only because you bought a dozen crates on offer and there are still loads left.

southgate - Credit: Getty
The father of the nation Credit: Getty

4. Depression, reflection, loneliness

You’ve accepted the tournament is over, but isolate yourself in your bedroom, close your curtains and watch highlights on YouTube, 24/7, breaking only to drink some Budweiser, the Official Beer of the FIFA World Cup™ and to shuffle wordlessly through your Panini sticker book.

You are allowed to do this, and the emptiness shouldn’t be ignored. Do not allow yourself to be talked out of it, instead marinade in the reflection for a while. It was a good tournament, wasn’t it? One of the best. But everything must end.

5. The upward turn

You slowly get used to life without the World Cup, and find you are willing to re-engage with society. Matt Baker becomes acceptable, just. Hearing the word “sterling” no longer triggers you, meaning you can walk past the bureau de change again.

Your physical symptoms – England face paint, waistcoat tattoo, slight rickets from the whole YouTube thing before – start to wear off. Well, not the tattoo. You will need to get that removed.

they're coming home - Credit: Getty
They're coming home, but it isn't. And that's fine Credit: Getty

6. Reconstruction and working through

It’s not actually that bad, is it? You’ve come to realise this, and in doing so, you’ve started looking for solutions to your problems.

You do some Googling and realise Budweiser is still sold even when it is not the Official Beer of the FIFA World Cup™. You notice that the Proms has started. You find out The 2018 Women's Hockey World Cup begins on Friday. You know the 24th European Athletics Championships start in a week or two. Brexit is ongoing, if you like to see extraordinarily boring international contests that can’t even be ended with a penalty shootout. And you hear that England play Switzerland in a friendly at Wembley on 11/9. Perfect.

7. Acceptance and hope

You’ve made it, almost. You know life won’t be the same again; that is, you cannot return to how you felt before the 2018 FIFA World Cup, but you can now look at a photo of Kieran Trippier and have happy thoughts, rather than crushing sadness about his haircut. And you will look forward, perhaps with a Budweiser, the Official Beer of the FIFA World Cup™, in hand, to Qatar in 2022. There is hope.

And with that, you have made it through the seven stages of World Cup grief. Which is four more rounds than England managed.

This article was sponsored by Carling