I have been a Tottenham Hotspur fan since the early 1970s, not by strategic choice but by emotional conviction: stubborn, unyielding loyalty. The Spurs, for all their flair and potential, have never made fandom easy; heartbreak is part of the package. The last time they lifted a trophy was in 2008, and even then, it was the Football League Cup, affectionately but damningly known as the “small cup.”
In times of despair, I’ve taken solace in my Israeli club, Maccabi Tel Aviv, and my Spanish powerhouse, Barcelona. Fanning Spurs has been a test of endurance as much as passion.
Between 1988 and 1991, I frequented the Spurs stadium in London. That era was lit by two brilliant stars, Paul “Gazza” Gascoigne and Gary Lineker. The strategy was straightforward: Get the ball to Gazza, the most gifted midfielder I’ve ever seen, and let him feed Lineker, the ice-cold finisher with an eye for goal and a heart for the game.
Gazza had magic in his boots; Lineker had precision in his movement and integrity in every step. He was the consummate professional: no dives, no tantrums, and remarkably, no cards, yellow or red, in his entire career – a unicorn in modern football.
Lineker's transition into broadcasting
So when Lineker hung up his boots and transitioned into broadcasting, I followed his new journey with admiration. Replacing the legendary Des Lynam as host of the BBC’s Match of the Day in 1999, Lineker approached the role with reverence. He studied Lynam, mimicked his poise, and, for two decades, became the gold standard in sports presentation. Articulate, witty, and warm, he was the voice of Saturday night football.
Then came the shift.
As Lineker’s confidence grew, so did his appetite for political commentary. Unfortunately, his political insight didn’t match his footballing IQ. Lineker dove headlong into social media discourse, dispensing opinions on global affairs with the same certainty he once reserved for offside calls. The BBC squirmed, but Match of the Day was its crown jewel, and Lineker its star attraction. For a while, he seemed untouchable.
Comments on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict
Lineker cast himself as the perennial champion of the underdog. That moral instinct led him to speak out on global injustice, including, most controversially, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Like many activists who fall in love with a cause, Lineker’s tone turned strident, and his views grew increasingly polarized. Complex issues were squeezed into 140-character declarations. Nuance was the first casualty.
His hostility toward Israel became pronounced, unrelenting, and, most recently, unacceptable. The breaking point came when Lineker reposted a video laced with anti-Zionist rhetoric and imagery, including an illustration of a rat. That post, shocking in its symbolism, forced the BBC’s hand. After years of looking the other way, the corporation acted. Its highest-paid presenter, its Saturday night institution, had gone too far.
Last Sunday, Gary Lineker presented his final episode of Match of the Day – a curtain call not just on a broadcasting era but on a legacy soured by personal conviction turned dogma.
Lineker was a superb footballer. He became a beloved presenter. But you can excel in sports, even shine on television, and still fall short where it matters most. Greatness on the pitch doesn’t always translate to grace off it.
The final whistle has been blown. And this time, it’s not just for full-time; it’s for goodbye.
The writer is a fellow at the Israel Institute for Advanced Studies, professor of politics and founding director of the Middle East Study Centre, University of Hull, UK, and president of the Association for Israel Studies. X: twitter.com/almagor35