As England faced Italy in the UEFA Women’s Euro semi-final last night, I had an experience I’ll never forget – but it’s not the moment you might think.
It wasn’t the 33rd minute when Barbara Bonansea put Italy ahead, and my 11-year-old football-mad daughter’s head dropped for a moment. It wasn’t during half-time, when I went for another bag of nerve-calming popcorn while she fetched her beloved England and Arsenal scarves, wrapping them around her head in a silent act of faith.
It wasn’t the 96th minute when 19-year-old Michelle Agyemang equalised and my Northern Irish daughter couldn’t stop laughing at the sight of her Scottish dad and English mum leaping off the sofa, briefly united in support for the same team for the first time in our lives.
The moment that Kelly charged into the box, with Lucy Bronze and Ella Toone storming forward in support, was thrilling beyond words. But that’s not the memory I’m taking from last night.
And no, it wasn’t even the split second when Kelly, with incredible composure, seized her moment and tapped the ball home, sealing England’s place in the final.
What will stay with me is a small sequence of tiny events that no one else was witness to, but which painted, for me, such a vivid picture of the incomparable power of women’s football.
My daughter’s every waking day is devoted to her goal of becoming a pro-player, and as she sat, glued to the screen in our living room, her grandparents were texting pleas for England to call her up and get her on the pitch to save the game. That reinforced for me that my daughter has never known what it’s like to have her love of football laughed at or dismissed.
It’s a cliche to say the Lionesses have paved the way for girls to be taken seriously in football, but as a 40-something mum, I feel this on a deeper level. They’ve removed the barriers that even two decades ago could have prevented my daughter from ever stepping on a football pitch, holding her back from her dream of captaining the England squad one day, when they win the World Cup.
My 18-year-old son, whose own inextinguishable love of football (and Arsenal in particular) no doubt influenced my daughter’s passion for the game, wandered into the room with his girlfriend shortly after England equalised. Listening to him praise the players’ performance with my husband, dissecting tactics with the forensic analysis they’d apply to Jude Bellingham or Harry Kane, I realised this was the first time I’d gathered in the same room as most of my family to watch the football.
What a wonderful experience for my daughter, witnessing the power of women’s sport as a family, and a testament to how much has changed from the days of men’s games dominating television.
Many other glimmers added to my experience of last night’s victory. This morning, the match was the first thing on my husband’s lips. The first posts on social media I saw when I picked up my phone were all about the resilience and mental toughness of the Lionesses.
It all makes a difference. At one point during the match, when defeat seemed almost inevitable, my daughter said she’d rather England win their game than her team win a big tournament they are playing in today. Ordinarily, she’d give anything to avoid losing, but that she’d rather lose to satisfy the football gods and let the Lionesses win tells you something about how football has shaped her sense of what teamwork truly means.
Outside of my living room, the stats speak for themselves. According to Women in Sport UK, 59% of girls say the 2023 Women’s World Cup inspired them to do more sport and exercise, and 26% said that not having enough female role models is a barrier to excelling in sport.
Forget the physical benefits of exercise for a moment. The mental good that comes with movement and seeing yourself represented, supported, and understood is hugely underestimated for girls’ self-esteem .1
This morning, I asked if she thinks the match showed us anything important. She paused for the briefest moment and said, with the kind of confidence that stems from growing up with the Lionesses as her role models, their podcast on a daily loop in our house: “That we are built for last-minute wins.”
At first, I thought she meant this particular England squad. Maybe female footballers in general. Then, the penny dropped. The ‘we’ in her sentence is women. Even as I write this, I have to take a beat to compose myself because of the joy I feel at raising a daughter who sees herself, unflinchingly, as on the winning team.
Last night will stay with me because it drove home, like no other moment ever has, that representation doesn’t just matter, it makes a difference. We can’t be what we can’t see is an oft-repeated phrase, but last night flipped that on its head for me in the most empowering of ways.
What we can see, we can be, is the message I’m taking from this moment.
1 https://www.rcpsych.ac.uk/mental-health/parents-and-young-people/physical-activity-exercise-and-mental-health-for-young-people
