Graham Crawford's Column

Graham is a translator living in Poland for almost 20 years. In between travelling the length and breadth of the country, he has worked for Collins and Longman publishers and on the Kosciuszko Polish-English dictionaries, among others. His current and recent projects include a translation of the 20th century poet, Konstanty Galczynski, and a book on the songs of Edward Stachura.

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Previous Columns

Bump
2013-05-17

Bribe and punishment
2013-05-10

Left behind
2013-04-26

Land of plenty
2013-04-19

The system sucks
2013-04-12

Master of confusion
2013-04-05

Pluses and minuses
2013-03-29

Titter ye not!
2013-03-22

A Graham by any other name...
2013-03-16

A lesson in stupidity
2013-03-08

Non-poetic license
2013-03-01

Food for thought
2013-02-22

Love me tender
2013-02-15

Cross pedestrian crossing
2013-02-08

Holey crap!
2013-02-01

The milk of human misery
2013-01-25

Are you being served?
2013-01-18

Out of the blue
2013-01-11

Negative New Year!
2013-01-04

Like a rag doll to a bull
2012-12-14

Illegally legal
2012-12-07

Stand up and be counted
2012-11-30

PiS-steak
2012-11-23

RE-signation letter
2012-11-16

A minging system
2012-11-09

No tricks, just treats
2012-11-04

Foggy thinking
2012-10-26

Death to all zebras!
2012-10-19

No country for beer drinkers
2012-10-12

A tale told by an idiot
2012-10-05

Patriot games

Friday 22nd June, 2012

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper. At least that’s how it felt. Poland’s performance in the second half against the Czech Republic was the ultimate fizzle, Lazarus not raised.

However, for a few precious days, at least, Poland was united. The Poles got behind their team with an uncomplicated patriotism that I envy them. It’s to our discredit in the UK that patriotism immediately labels you as some kind of knee-jerk, right-wing bigot.

Speaking of which, I wonder how Jan Tomaszewski survived the tournament. The once heroic goalkeeper alienated many with his comments about Smuda’s team, insisting he would support Germany.

What did he do when Poland were playing? Did he sit in isolation in a darkened room? Did his heart experience no elation as Blaszczykowski’s shot rocketed into the Russian goal? Did he feel no embarrassment as he saw Damien Perquis, one of the “painted foxes” as Tomaszewski dubbed the players he considered mercenaries, consistently putting his body on the line and playing his heart out?

Did he see Sebastien Boenisch, another “mercenary”, outside the team hotel in Wroclaw signing autographs late in the evening after Saturday’s loss?

Tomaszewski has been strangely absent from our screens of late. Ere long he will no doubt emerge from the rock he’s been hiding under to wax lyrical about the Mannschaft.

Compare that to all the expats in Poland who were rooting for their adopted country - even my mum was cheering them on.

Patriotism is, at root, a silly, irrational thing, to be handled with care. But patriotism of the kind Mr Tomaszewski embodies, I can do without.