You must be seriously dull to earn the nickname of ‘interesting’, but that is exactly what Steve Davis managed to achieve (not forgetting the six world titles). I thought of Mr Davis, who - unlike many of his compatriots - you can bet did not spend days playing hooky down the local snooker club in his youth as I listened to Radio 2.

‘Snooker Loopy’ came blasting jovially over the airwaves and gave me a nostalgic shot in the arm, as I impressed myself by recounting every single damned word of the ditty, with my favourite being the immortal “and old Willie Thorne, his hair’s all gawn”, which is a line the charts never saw coming.

With the wonderful Chas and Dave leading the baized knees-up with the Matchroom mob, it peaked at a respectable number 6 in the charts, and it got me thinking as to the death of the sports song.

I am not even sure if the England football team bother to record one prior to major tournaments these days, but it is doubtful as image rights and the seriousness with which the modern-day player takes their brand would ultimately squeeze the life out of any fun the record may have garnered.

Although there were pre-cursors, to my mind the first great sporting songs came, (surprisingly, considering how averse to awards they seem to be) from Spurs. ‘Ossie’s Dream’, released in the 1980/81 season, again with Chas and Dave the musical overlords, reached number 5 in the hit parade with such classic rhymes as “altogether man for man, in de cup for Totting-ham". Strangely it worked, although they pushed it way, way too far in 1981/82 with Glenn Hoddle and the Spurs squad recording ‘Happy Xmas (War Is Over)’.

It reached a purple patch the following decade with the release of ‘World in Motion’ by New Order, ‘Vindaloo’ by Fat Les (which is a marmite song if ever there was one) and the pinnacle of sporting musical excellence, ‘Three Lions’, which has had numerous re-releases and has reached national cult status, if such a thing exists.

And yet, despite the prophecy of “It’s coming home” echoing from bars and cars stereos as long ago as 1996, the truth of the matter is it still hasn’t, and gives us another opportunity to trot it out each time the latest countdown to disappointment commences.

But today: nothing. We are left with but a void. There’s a huge, gaping niche in the market for a new kid on the block to release a career-defining musical masterpiece though the medium of sport, but maybe it’s not “cool” any more for a big band to hook up with the likes of Pep Guardiola or Graham Potter to record a new footballing anthem.

We are too tribal these days, you see: When I was a kid, and not a Spurs supporter, I bought Ossie’s song as I liked it, and loved football. The team was irrelevant, but nowadays we attach too much importance to which team’s colours you wear, as if it makes the slightest bit of difference to our being.

And so today, with the World Cup mired in scandal, due to kick-off in a few weeks time, we have, as far as I, or Google are aware, no nationalistic ditty to look forward to. There will be no Jack Grealish and co putting team loyalties aside to dress up in garish, eye-wateringly expensive terry towelling tracksuits in order to embarrass themselves by proving how they cannot sing for toffee.

Maybe they could get a Billy Bragg-type musical activist on board and sing about the corruption blatantly marring the Qatari competition, or maybe the human rights abuses or the deaths of the migrant workers, as they collectively do some good and openly rage against the machine? Still, it wouldn’t be good for optics I suppose.

  • Brett Ellis is a teacher