Is sport better without anyone to support?

Just when we’d given up hope on British sporting hopes – England’s failure at the World Cup, our cricketers losing at home to Sri Lanka, a whitewash for England’s rugby team at the hands of New Zealand and an early exit for Andy Murray at Wimbledon – there was finally some cheer when Lewis Hamilton won his home.

He made a right horlicks of qualifying when he gave up his final lap mid-way round, thinking no-one would beat his time. Well, five did, and he qualified sixth – his teammate and close rival for the championship, Nico Rosberg, started on pole. Because he’s good, and because he’s got a good car, he had quickly made it to second. His teammate’s subsequent retirement effectively handed Hamilton the victory – a bright spot in an otherwise disappointing summer for British sport.

Watching your countrymen and women struggle in sport is never much fun, and watching the matches without their participation is arguably more enjoyable. Taking the World Cup as an example, weeks of build-up was followed by an early and painful exit. England went behind against Italy, before giving us false hope with an equaliser – hope that was dashed when Balotelli scored Italy’s second, five minutes into the second half. At least England played well, we all said.

The three lions’ second match was close to a replica of the first. Going behind, coming back, then giving another one away. (Why couldn’t Luis Suarez bitten someone’s shoulder a little earlier in the tournament?) On each occasion, the goal back was a way back for us, but it’s the hope that kills you, and it certainly killed our chances. Two nervous, tense matches and for nothing.

Now we’re out, it’s meant we can actually enjoy the tournament without worrying about another horrible display from our team. I can now sit there and enjoy the games, which, on the whole, have been fabulous, quality-filled and incident-packed. Let other nations endure the heartache and heartbreak of the penalty shootout. We’ve been through enough through the years, time for a rest.

Over at SW19, Murray’s quarter-final defeat meant that the semi-finals and finals could be enjoyed without the usual Murray-mania, and gave us a chance to appreciate just excellent tennis matches. The Wimbledon men’s final in particular was an absolute treat, with the powerful Novak Djokovic eventually triumphing over veteran - he’s 32, can we call him a veteran, no, let’s go with legend – Roger Federer in five gripping sets, taking well over four hours. Again, no Brit, no worries. It makes you wonder, perhaps it would be better if we weren’t ever involved in these tournaments. That’s certainly a line I’ve heard from many people over the last few weeks.

To those people, I say, are you mad? The low times are what make the high times so special. Whenever England don’t make a major tournament (Euro 2004 was the last time we failed to qualify), it’s just not the same. And despite my earlier points, it isn’t quite the same when we’ve gone out of a tournament, although I can then enjoy it in a different way.

Sport is about being put through the wringer; that’s what happens when you care about something. I wish I didn’t care about them as much as I do when, again, they’ve underperformed. But for every disappointment there’s a euphoric moment. For every Gareth Southgate missed penalty, there’s a Stuart Pearce score and roar. For every Linford Christie disqualification (1996 Olympics, 100m final), there’s an unexpected Kelly Holmes double (2004 Olympics, 800m and 1500m), for every last minute Six Nations heartbreak (France narrowly lost to Ireland in the last match of the 2014 tournament to deny England victory), there’s a last minute drop goal to win it (Jonny Wilkinson at the 2003 Rugby Union World Cup).

Sport is awesome. Having someone to cheer on just means there’s more on it, even if they let you down sometimes. When they prevail, it’s just about the best thing in the world.