Luck is not enough for success in soccer

Chinese culture is clearly incredibly rich in customs and traditions.

In the West we are aware of some Chinese "beliefs". A couple of notable examples are the "lucky number 8", due to the word (ba) sounding similar to the word for fortune or wealth (fa), or in contrast, the "number 4" is to be avoided due to its rather sinister sound like the word for death (si).

I have never been hugely superstitious, that is, unless it comes to soccer, although admittedly it is rather disconcerting that my Beijing apartment number is 404 on the fourth floor.

How worried should I be? Well, fortunately not too much if my pre-match soccer routine is anything to go by. While I think it is fair to say that there are plenty of superstitions, myths or beliefs in the West, they are largely taken with a pinch of salt.

For instance, I don't put new shoes on a table, a belief originating from the once-booming British mining industry that when a miner lost his life down the pits, his boots would be left on the table to honor him. Hence, placing new shoes in the same fashion would therefore be tempting fate.

Another ritual I frequently follow is knocking on wood, a superstition dating back to ancient European pagan times, when people believed that gods resided in trees. Knocking on the trunk would rouse the spirits and offer protection.

When it comes to soccer, I have an almost irrational superstitious mindset that borders on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. With England somehow stumbling through the Euro 2024 tournament and making the final where they faced Spain, my whole illogical pre-match ritual came into play, in the blind hope that such actions would guide my country to victory and end 58 years of hurt. For those with no interest in soccer, 58 years is not my age (just yet), but rather the amount of years England have gone without winning anything.

So, from the moment I woke up, match day was littered with absurd and nonsensical actions, such as eating a McDonald's breakfast, as once about 30 years ago I did so before a Sunday League game and we won and I scored a rare (ish) goal.

After showering and using my "lucky towel", I ventured to the local shop, ensuring I didn't step on the cracks of the pavement slabs (that's bad luck), while hoping a bird would poop on me. As revolting as it sounds, that is supposed to be incredibly lucky. Sadly, none of my feathered friends obliged.

The rest of the day was littered with other meaningless OCD routines until I left apartment 404, knocking on wood, to meet some friends for the game, wearing my "lucky pants" and "lucky polo shirt" that I had worn in each and every one of England's previous six triumphant matches en route to the final.

Needless to say, the game ended in massive disappointment as England once again lost and a realization that superstitions, at least to me, are just pointless and unfounded beliefs that lack any credibility. I should have already known that especially as the last time I got pooped on by a bird was before a soccer match I played in that ended with my team getting battered and me getting sent off. You live and learn, or not, perhaps. Now, where are those lucky pants?