Thursday 23rd June 2016. The day of a big European clash.
Not England versus Slovakia or Wales versus Russia, the games that will decide who progresses from Group B to the Round of 16.
No, it is the referendum to decide whether we are in or out of Europe.
To be honest, I hope that we are in. If England cannot get out of that group and progress to the knock-out stages, we should be pretty ashamed.
At least the football side of things is pretty straightforward to understand (unless we come third in the group and have to rely on other results).
I have been trying to work out what it is I am supposed to be voting on that Thursday. Is it to do with economics? Is it security? Is it migration? Is whatever it was that David Cameron negotiated and celebrated the other week even legal?
It might even be about a leadership contest where candidates like Boris and George are far more cynical than any candidates the FIFA presidential election threw up last week.
No idea.
It just seems that people are ranting about their pet subjects or favourite people, deciding which side of the European argument it falls on, and shouting as loudly as they possibly can in favour of their opinion.
And pretty soon, the opinion becomes more important than the facts.
It is like the footballer who knows he was the last player to touch the ball before it rolls off the pitch but appeals like a crazed lunatic for the throw-in anyway.
I have spent the last week trying to work out how to help small companies deal with auto-enrolment and if you think European politics is dull, I can assure you there is worse out there. I am not going to take you into the jaws of pensions hell. The one thing I have learnt is the importance of assuring other people I have no expertise whatsoever and cannot be sued. Look elsewhere for sensible help – and the very best of luck to you.
When it comes to politics however, lack of knowledge and expertise is not always an obstacle to progress.
I do think there is a certain irony out there that as political discourse descends into shouting matches, football fans are getting smarter.
We have come off a week of fascinating European football, where viewers of BT Sport here in England may have known more about the Barcelona players than the Arsenal ones. I have learnt that leaving that very left-footed Barcelona number ten – truly the Jason Puncheon of the Iberian peninsular – unmarked in the penalty area is a bad idea.
Meanwhile, the best game of the week was probably the 2-2 draw between Juventus and Bayern Munich, and again most football fans were aware of the main players on both sides.
As for our own domestic league, we have become used to having players from all the over world in our teams, and while the Premier League is not as strong at the highest level as La Liga or the Bundesliga, it provides fantastic entertainment to an increasing global tournament.
The rise of Leicester shows the dilemma facing voters on June 23. Should we celebrate the English bulldog spirit of Vardy or the skill and panache of the Muslim African Mahrez whose family migrated to France?
A football fan’s knowledge of the detail of the key players in European football has become pretty impressive these days. If we were asked to vote for the winner of the Ballon D’Or on June 23, we would have a lot of information at our disposal. We would be armed with plenty of easily understandable statistics and facts that explained why we favoured Puncheon, sorry Messi, over Ronaldo, or vice versa.
Sadly, we have to vote on something rather more cryptic instead that day, while being screamed at by the headlines of newspapers who may be representing the business interests of their billionaire non-UK resident owners rather than the ordinary man on the street.
As we look to our political leaders for guidance and leadership they seem more focused on what their mother’s thought about doctors and nurses thirty years ago or whether they should up their top button when they are on telly.
I am a football fan not a politician, and have no idea what to do on June 23 – after all there are no games that night. But if you are a football fan like me, I would be happy to join you having a glass of something cold on the moral high ground.
