Thursday
Like much of the world, I have been enthralled by the World Cup. My favorite game so far has been England vs. the Republic of Congo, with England captain Harry Kane leading his team to a come-from-behind victory with two magnificent goals. The commentators had difficulty praising him enough, with Thierry Henry proposing he be referred to as Sir Harry Kane. They could also have compared him to Shakespeare’s Henry V.
Henry’s nickname is Harry, and in the play’s prologue we learn that a fiery muse is needed to announce the magnificence of this “warlike” king:
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend
The brightest heaven of invention,
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,
Assume the port of Mars…
Things were looking very grim for England up until the final 20 minutes or so, and I like to think that Kane gave a version of the St. Crispin’s Day speech during the hydration break. “Once more into the breach dear friends,” I imagine him saying, “or close the wall up with our English dead.”
Then he could have punctuated his speech with Henry’s rousing finale:
And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble luster in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game’s afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry ‘God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’
The game really is afoot when it comes to soccer, with greyhound-fast players exploiting the tiniest of breaches. And in the end, like Harry at Agincourt, England prevailed.
