If you were dreading the Euros for all the repeat bellowings of Sweet Caroline that England’s progress would suppose, relax. Unfold the deckchair. Savour the bunting.
For too long, the sickly Sweet Caroline has seemed unbudgeable as the England fans’ Chant No. 1, but then Neil Diamond hadn’t factored in the spectacular impact of the nation’s number 10, Jude Victor William Bellingham.
It probably didn’t excessively stretch the imagination of England’s terrace choirmasters to make Hey Jude their go-to Bellingham song.
But his combination of humility and generational talent could make this Beatles classic the accompaniment to one of the greatest fan-player love affairs of all time.
Sung lustily by all, snark-free, the song feels tailor-made for him. But where did it come from?
One day in June 1968, Paul McCartney slid into his Aston Martin to drive the 20 or so miles from London to Weybridge in Surrey.
His mission was to comfort Cynthia Lennon and her five-year-old son Julian, after her husband John had decided his future lay with Yoko, and walked out.
Paul had a better relationship with Julian than John did, and headed over to provide cheering up services.
Had he turned the radio on, he might have heard about the four-team European Championships held in Italy that month (England came third), but he decided to use the journey to compose a song for the occasion.
“I knew it was not going to be easy for [Julian],” he said. “I always feel sorry for kids in divorces.”
His original lyric began “Hey Jules”, but this was not musically satisfactory, and as Paul favoured a more country and westernish Jude, (Jud being a character from the musical Oklahoma!), Hey Jude it became.
The idea was to lift little Julian’s spirits in what for most kids would be a rather desperate occasion, hence the lyrics offering simple reassurance that everything was going to be OK.
But words can feel a little hollow to a small child, and so by closing out its then utterly unheard of seven minute duration with four minutes of rousing “nah-nah-nah-nah” chanting, no song has ever worked harder to put all within earshot in a better frame of mind.
The market agreed, and when released as a single in August 1968, the song sold more than 5 million copies worldwide in six months. Yet those directly affected weren’t particularly uplifted.
Julian Lennon had mixed feelings about it, it being such a reminder of a difficult time; George Harrison got the hump because Paul wouldn’t let him solo over all those nahs (“no, George”), and the song wasn’t able to do much for the band’s long-term loss of enthusiasm for each other.
Played live, however, McCartney soon realised it was a colossal crowd pleaser, with fans seeming never to weary of ecstatically repeating its gleeful coda.
Neither have sports crowds been slow in adapting it to their needs. It is a regular part of the repertoire at Brentford and Manchester City.
England cricket fans like to substitute “Hey Jude” for “Joe Root” (Shane Warne once said of a rain-interrupted test at Edgbaston that “the only good thing that came out of [the match] was the crowd’s wonderful rendition of Hey Jude.”
Its combination of exuberance and lyrical simplicity have also enabled its smooth international transition.
When Bellingham was at Borussia Dortmund, the Germans sang it. At Real Madrid, the Spanish sing it. There are even YouTube videos of Madrid and Dortmund fans singing it together at the recent Champions League final. And at the Euros, the England fans seem able to sustain it indefinitely.
Bellingham has declared himself entirely in favour. “I listen to The Beatles a lot,” he said. “My style of music is a bit old, so that’s right on my street.”
And the day after that opening game against Serbia (winning goal: Jude Bellingham; Man of the Match: Jude Bellingham), downloads of Hey Jude jumped by a fifth.
As for the Bellingham love-in, it helps that Bellingham doesn’t play in the Premier League, so there is no daft rivalries, and he is confident yet modest, swaggers without cockiness, and is nice but charismatic.
He possesses such outrageous good looks as to give even the straightest of men pause for thought. (No-nonsense Alan Shearer, commentating on the England-Serbia game, gushed as if summoning the courage to ask Bellingham on a date.)
His only mis-step on record was a burst of fruity, microphone-adjacent shopfloor language playing for Dortmund in a European game against Rangers when he lost patience with a teammate’s hopeless passing.
Parents – German or otherwise – have not had to cover their children’s ears since. Neither has his rise been hindered by being attached to such a massive hit.
Real Madrid reportedly shifted 100,000 ‘Bellingham 5’ tops within his first four months at the club, a succulent sell-through given he still has the best part of six years to run on his contract.
Louis Vuitton, Adidas and Lucozade have also done business, as, most recently, has Kim Kardashian’s SKIMS range, where Bellingham has lent his extraordinary physique to their men’s underwear (cotton and stretch collections), helping him become possibly the world’s most marketable individual.
To witness a daunting display of the electricity that the Bellingham branding and sales reactor is capable of generating, just google “Hey Jude | Adidas”.
Even in just his delicates he makes it look easy – see the dismal Euros that rival men’s underpant titan M&S are having.
Their ambassadors are Harry Maguire (injured), Grealish (dropped) and Olly Watkins (thus far keeping his Y-fronts under a bushel on the bench).
Perhaps a McCartney-authored anthem might help. Or failing that, a once in a lifetime superstar.
