By Brendan Gallagher
Top of the world: Martin Johnson lifts the rugby World Cup in 2003 Photo: CHRIS BARRY
We are spoiled rotten in this country, often without realising or appreciating it. If you violently disagree and want to afford top dog status to another nation, let's be hearing from you in but first consider what English sport and competitors have given us - and continue to give.
England is a packed Twickenham and whiskey nips on frosty afternoons and singing
Abide with Me at Wembley. It is a Bobby Charlton piledriver, a Wally Hammond cover drive and Lawrence Dallaglio's tears as the national anthem plays.
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England is
Wimbledon fortnight, Cowes Week and the
Cheltenham Festival - all three the envy of the sporting world. It is the Boat Race and Henley, a packed Lord's on the first morning against Australia and a raucous Oval as the sun sets on another
Ashes series.
It is the glorious
London Marathon - the people's race - it is City v United, Liverpool v Everton and Arsenal tackling Spurs. It is Portsmouth going bust and still reaching the FA Cup final.
England is the Grand National, Red Rum, Bob Champion and Aldaniti. It is Desert Orchid. It is Lester Piggott. Royal Ascot, Glorious Goodwood and the Ebor meeting at York. The beer tent at Plumpton in January, the Cotswolds perfection of Badminton in May.
England is a sun dappled Bobby Moore on his colleagues' shoulders and Martin Johnson brandishing another World Cup. It is Seb Coe breasting the tape, Roger Bannister venturing into the unknown. It is David Hemery pouring over the hurdles in Mexico like none before and few after. "And who cares who came third?" uttered David Coleman. Actually it was John Sherwood. . . . of England!
England is Graham Hill's twitching moustache, Fran Cotton's Dan Dare Jaw, Gary Lineker's ears, Denis Compton's knees, David Beckham metatarsals, Jonny Wilkinson clasped hands and a Jessica Ennis smile.
England is the naughty boy charm and world beating talent of Barry Sheene, James Hunt and Jenson Button; the consumate all-round skill of John Surtees, the die hard aggression and racing instincts of Lewis Hamilton. It is Stirling Moss insisting that Mike Hawthorn be reinstated in second place in the 1958 Portuguese Grand Prix and then losing the world championship by one point to his fellow Englishman. Class, style, substance.
England is the peerless Coleman, Peter Allis, Harry Carpenter . . . and there goes Murray Walker as well. It is the poety of Arlott, the eloquent silences of Longhurst behind the mike and James Alexander Gordon reading the football results on a Saturday evening.
England is the matchless Ben Ainslie ruling the waves and Dame Ellen taking on the world. It is Becky Adlington powering down the final length, the massive talent of the dimunitive Tom Daley, Daley Thompson doing back flips of joy in the pole vault pit, Dame Kelly Holmes' look of wonder and Mark Cavendish tearing up the Champs Elysee and leaving the peloton for dead.
England is Mike Brearley out-thinking the opposition, Sir Ian outdrinking and outplaying the same. It is the English rose beauty and breathtaking ability of Lillian Board and Mary Rand and the glorious running of another dashing blonde. Richard Sharpe, as he dummied - not once, not twice but three times - for that famous try against Scotland.
England is Nick Faldo in the zone, the timeless perfection of Torvill and Dean, the gung-ho courage of Amy Williams. It is Jason Leonard sharing post-match pints with the opposition. It the effortless cool of modern pentathlete Dr Steph Cooke, the deceny of 'our Enry' and the enduring bravery of Michael Watson
England is golf in the snow at the Presidents Putter, Sunningdale in autumn, the world snooker championship and drama at the Crucible. And it is the thought, bordering on obsession, of finally winning the World Cup in cricket, sailing to victory in the America's Cup, Lee Westwood winning a major and above all else winning a penalty shoot-out that matters.
"This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England." Shakespeare probably was not thinking about sport at the time but his words ring ever true.
