Gareth Southgate may never have won a World Cup (or any Cup at all in fact) but James Graham's play sets out to tell us that what came home to English football under his stewardship was much more important than silverware.
He was never supposed to be England manager: just a stand-in after the disastrously short reign of 'Big' Sam Allardyce, the Liz Truss of English Football. But after eight years in charge, as recounted faithfully in Dear England, Sir Gareth had taken us to a semi-final and two finals. More than that: under his guidance, and before our very eyes, the England men's team changed from being a bunch of entitled, overpaid yobs to role models for a nation. They took the knee to stand up to racism. They led projects to improve school meals. They spoke in interviews with judgement, modesty and honesty. And it all flowed from Gareth Southgate, the one England manager since 1966 who genuinely seemed to love the job, right up to the end.
Southgate was straightforward, pioneering and enthusiastic. He was true to himself, and (as Rory Smith says in his effervescent programme notes) in being so he reflected the England and Englishness - decent, honourable, courageous - that he himself believed in. He helped us rediscover a sense of ourselves that we can be proud of.
Dear England is a joy from beginning to end. Like watching the highlights of a really exciting game on Match of the Day, it picks the best bits from the story, and packages them together into a pulsating highlights show. Es Devlin's deceptively simple set - two circles, one suspended above the other, with a spot at the centre - evokes two penalty areas, the shape that was to dominate and symbolise Gareth Southgate's life. But as the play unfolds, those two circles unleash a firework display of special effects, from illuminated scorelines to projections of entire football stadia. Like that other stirring play of national fervour, Henry V, this one crams the world into a wooden O, and it's a theatre of dreams.
As Southgate, David Sturzaker captures not only the mannerisms, voice and appearance of Sir Gareth, but also the ineradicable pain and guilt of that missed penalty in the Euros of 1996. Graham suggests that this moment was foundational for Southgate's entire philosophy, and it's a convincing argument. It powers his desperate need to protect his players from going through the same agony, and their penalty victory over Colombia at the 2018 World Cup felt like the climactic moment of the tournament for England. In the play, that shootout is the dramatic highlight of the evening, and England's win closes the first half. As Southgate clenches the air, the ghost of Wembley has finally been laid to rest.
The redemption arc may not be subtle, but it certainly is effective, and Dear England's emotional pull is irresistible. The crowd (sorry, I mean audience) cheer the goals as they go in, go nuts when the Lionesses become European Champions, and even sing along with 'Sweet Caroline'. Good times really did never seem so good.
But this play is far more than a self-help session on a football pitch. It's also an affectionate comedy, with the England players themselves providing much of the fun. Squabbling, dancing, celebrating or just struggling to understand what the gaffer wants them to do, the squad comes across like a bunch of rowdy but adorable little kids. They are the Seven Dwarfs to Southgate's Snow White. It's off to beat the Croatians they go.
Each of these characters is based on a real individual, and one of the greatest strengths of the production is the brilliance of the impersonations. At times it's less like a play and more like an episode of Dead Ringers. The effect is like going to see a top-notch tribute band: the likeness may not be perfect, but it's close enough that you can almost believe you're watching the real people. And the applause at the end feels partly directed at the performers and partly at Gareth Southgate himself.
Highlights include Oscar Gough's bewildered, monosyllabic Harry Kane, Jack Maddison's volcanic, twitching Jordan Pickford, and Ashley Byam's tortured Raheem Sterling. But there is also a cavalcade of minor characters, including a hilarious montage of former England managers (including Fabio Capello, who is accompanied by the theme music from The Godfather whenever he appears). Boris Johnson, Gary Lineker and Greg Dyke all have their cameos. But special mention must go to Courtney George, who plays Alex Scott, Liz Truss, Theresa May and Sarina Wiegman, each with a sprinkle of perfectly-judged caricature.
The only element I found a little underwhelming was the role of sports therapist Pippa Grange, elevated by Graham to the status of second lead in order to underline the importance of Southgate's commitment to psychological as well as physical strength, as well as to provide an additional plot layer. Despite a sterling performance from Samantha Womack, Grange's contributions stay firmly in the realm of the obvious (like telling Southgate he hasn't got over his missed penalty, a fact we had all picked up on well before her explanation). It's one small gripe in an evening overflowing with natural warmth.
The most astonishing thing about this show is that it manages to create an aura of misty-eyed nostalgia for events that took place barely two years ago. But the world has changed so much since Southgate retired, that the events of Dear England seem to belong to a far-off, more innocent age. He may have been too hesitant with his substitutions, and he may have been traumatised by his own moment of national failure in 1996. But he gave his boys - and us - something we'll never forget. As Thomas Tuchel says to the departing Sir Gareth: 'They'll be fine'. I hope so.