
It feels like no-one is wearing their England shirt for the Lionesses
'It's just the same, isn't it?' my friend said, as we stood, our backs to the TV, while England took penalties in the Euro 2025 quarter-final against Sweden.
It was an all-too-familiar scenario: pacing the living room, hearts racing, as another player took their position in front of the goal, soundtracked by our cries of 'I can't watch!'
He wasn't referring to England's famously bad track record at penalty shoot outs though, but the fact that we were watching the Lionesses, rather than the men's squad.
The highs, the lows, the utter agony of being an England fan, was just the same.
I can't remember the first time I went to a football match, but I think I was about four-years-old.
Watching sport was a big part of my childhood. Leeds United's anthem, Marching On Together, was preferred over nursery rhymes and my first major crush was the bleach-blonde-haired striker Alan Smith.
As a woman, I've never felt that I didn't belong in the stands, and that wasn't just exclusive to football. I've cheered at the rugby, speedway, tennis, and the Olympics. I've even branched out to baseball (essentially rounders) and there was one very, very, long afternoon at an NFL match (although cricket reigns supreme as the most boring sport I've had the misfortune of bearing witness to).
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a die-hard fan. Post-match analysis makes me yawn and I couldn't tell you anything about the summer transfer window. And frankly, if it gets much below 10C, I'm not going. But suffice to say, I like watching sport.
And as far as I'm concerned, the experience of watching 'women's football' is indeed just the same. The adrenaline rush is just as intense; a win just as satisfying.
So, when I hopped on the Tube on Tuesday night to head to the pub for the semi-final against Italy, I assumed I'd be one of a sea of England shirts.
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Granted, I know there is still a certain variety of person (let's face it, usually men) who find the concept of a woman playing football a little too hard to comprehend.
But still, this was a big deal: we're the reigning champions of Europe, a win meant reaching a third consecutive final of a major tournament (which, spoiler, we did).
And yet, I soon noticed I was the odd one out, so much so that I genuinely wondered if I'd got the day wrong. On my journey across London, the only three lions I saw, were on my own T-shirt.
That's not to say you have to wear the badge to be a supporter (although I've always been a sucker for merch), but it was in stark contrast to the way the streets turn red and white when the men play.
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Obviously, I don't condone the dangerous displays of vandalism and violence we've seen in the past – I'm not about to suggest inserting flares into unmentionable places – but not so much as a scarf, or even a flag?
When the men played in the Euros final last summer, the city had whipped itself into a frenzy.
Flags flew from windows and cars, and people talked of taking the following day off work, as a win would surely mean partying into the early hours.
To me, the lack of enthusiasm for Leah, Lucy, Michelle and their teammates feels insulting. What is about women's football that doesn't deserve the same kind of celebration? I'm genuinely asking, because I don't understand.
People love to harp on about how the games are different: women are slower, less technical. 'It's like watching lower league football' is a phrase that gets banded around. But so what? How does that make it any less of an achievement that we're in the final?
Surely there's actually more cause for fanfare. Women's football was famously banned by the FA in 1921 who branded it 'quite unsuitable for females'. In particular, there was concern that its growing popularity would somehow be a threat to the men's game. More Trending
The ban wasn't lifted until 1971 – that's 50 long years during which the men progressed and developed, while women were forced to wait in the wings.
And yet, despite being put on pause for five decades, the Lionesses are winning titles (side note: the men have never won the Euros) and creating a culture that fosters a sense of belonging, from rainbow armbands to the campaign for darker-coloured period-proof shorts, to proving that you can still be a world-class athlete with manicured nails and lifted lashes.
If you consider yourself a football fan, not supporting the Lionesses tells me all I need to know about you.
The long and short of it is that England are in the Euros final, and if you'd be half-cut at the pub by midday on Sunday waiting for the men to kick off, you should ask yourself why you're not doing the same for the women.
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18 minutes ago
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The old dinosaur Jeremy Clarkson claims he likes women's football. In fact, he wrote a column about it for The Sunday Times, saying he found the Lionesses' Euros final 'exciting'. Great! Progress, right? Well… not quite. Because in the very same breath, he compares that excitement to what he imagines he'd feel watching cow racing in Sri Lanka. Yes, really. His exact words: ' It was exciting – in the same way that I'd be excited if I were in Sri Lanka and the locals invited me to watch some cow racing.' It's a thinly veiled pat on the head – the kind of backhanded compliment women in sport have heard for decades. Clarkson's message is clear: well done, ladies – that was 120 minutes of fun, in a novelty sort of way. Not real football, of course. Just a quirky spectacle for a Sunday afternoon. And that, right there, is the problem. Because even when some men say they like women's football, it's often delivered with a side of snark, scepticism or condescension. It's not quite "real". It's not quite worthy. It's the football equivalent of a try-hard indie band – enjoyable, but let's not pretend it deserves top billing. That mindset – whether shouted from comment sections of newspapers or whispered into broadsheet columns – is why women's football continues to be met with hostility. And it's going to take far more than England's back-to-back Euros win, a Downing Street visit and a street parade through the capital to convince men like Clarkson that women's football is worthy of their attention. What are they waiting for – a Bank Holiday in the Lionesses' honour? Nothing has stirred more bizarre, irrational rage in recent years than women playing football. Not climate change, not taxes, not even unfixed potholes. No – it's women daring to lace up their boots and play the same sport men have dominated for over a century. The horror! Now, don't get me wrong. I'm well aware there are thousands of men who have supported the Lionesses wholeheartedly through the Euros and through the trials and triumphs of women's football. Those men exist. In fact, I live with two of them. But what's also been impossible to ignore is the other group – a loud, seething contingent who foam at the mouth every time women's football gets airtime. Let's be honest. Some of these men don't just dislike women's football – they absolutely hate it. Viscerally and irrationally. As though women simply kicking a ball poses a threat to their very identity. Take Graham (real name, I believe), a caller I heard on LBC just the other day. He proudly declared – without a hint of irony – that he 'can't stand' women's football. Not just that he doesn't enjoy it. Not just that it's not his thing. No, Graham hates it. He can't watch it. He repeated several times that he can't bear it being 'shoved down our throats'. Shoved down our throats? Remind me… has there ever been a sport more relentlessly marketed, broadcast and worshipped than men's football? We've had 24/7 coverage for decades, wall-to-wall analysis of Premier League games, live transfer updates (snore) that border on obsession. Somehow, that's just normal. But when the BBC dares to air a Lionesses match? Now it's an outrage. Another gem came from a man I came across on a well-known sports account on Instagram who insisted women's football 'isn't the same sport' as men's. It's not as fast, not as powerful. Therefore, in his eyes, it's a different game entirely. Let's unpack that for a second. Two teams. Eleven players per side. A ball. A pitch. A goal at each end. A ref. Sounds like football to me. The only real difference? Some of the players have penises and some don't. That's not a different sport. That's just biology. By this logic, does he tell his son – who maybe plays under-12s on a soggy Sunday morning – that his football isn't real football because it lacks the speed and precision of the Champions League? Does he pat the kid on the head and say, 'Sorry son, it's just not the same sport'? Unlikely. The moment you challenge these men, even gently, the reaction is instant and vicious. I dared to comment on one of these videos, pointing out the obvious: it is the same sport. Cue the backlash. Within seconds, I saw replies accusing me of 'rage bait', clown emojis and insults I won't repeat here. The vitriol is astonishing – and sadly familiar, if you've ever spoken up for women's sport. But it begs the question: why does women's football cause such a meltdown in some men? Why this sport in particular? Why not women's tennis, where the stars earn millions and fill arenas? Why not rugby or cricket? Why this obsessive need to gatekeep football? The answer is as uncomfortable as it is obvious: misogyny. It's pure, deep-seated and often subconscious. Men's football is one of the last cultural arenas where some men feel untouchable. It's 'theirs'. The pub, the banter, the tribalism. And it seems when women enter that space (and excel in it), it rattles them to their core. Here's the real kicker: the England Lionesses aren't just playing football. They're winning. They're one of the most successful England teams this country has ever produced. While the men's team continues to serve us heartbreak, hype and penalty shootout trauma, the Lionesses deliver us trophies and finals and pride. At last! And it's not just what happens on the pitch. Off the field, the women are widely seen as more approachable, less egotistical and, frankly, better role models. They play as a team. They show humility. They connect with fans in a way that's rare in the era of £100k-a-week Instagram stars. That success – both in results and in values – should be a source of national pride. But instead, a portion of the male population would rather die on the hill of 'it's just not the same' than cheer on the best England football team we've got. Before I get accused of having no facts to back up my point – let's talk numbers for a minute. The Lionesses won the 2022 European Championship, something the men haven't done. They've reached the World Cup finals. Their matches have sold out stadiums. They've inspired millions of young girls – and plenty of boys – to take up the sport. If you're still arguing they don't deserve the spotlight, then sorry, but you've left logic behind. It's a sad day when a country finally gets to be world-class at something… and a significant chunk of its population responds by crossing its arms and pouting. Here's the truth: no one's asking you to like every pass or admire every tackle. But if you hate it – if it genuinely makes you angry to see women succeeding in sport – then maybe the problem isn't the football. Maybe the problem is you.