The Lobby is abuzz with a curious new talking point: Cape Verde. Not a by-election, not a reshuffle, but a football result. The tiny island nation held Spain to a 1-1 draw. And in the corridors of power, minds are turning to what this means for our own embattled minnows.
Westminster’s footballing establishment, already reeling from the FA’s latest round of soul-searching, is now eyeing the Cape Verdean blueprint. A nation of half a million people, no natural resources, yet they compete. How? It’s the question being asked in private briefings and over drinks at the Strangers’ Bar.
But this isn’t just about sport. It’s about politics. The draw has been seized upon by MPs from smaller nations within the Union. Scottish National Party sources are whispering about “the potential for a plucky outsider to upset the big boys.” Welsh Labour MPs are muttering about investment in grassroots. Even the DUP, never ones for football chat, are said to be “interested.”
Downing Street is wary. A source close to the Culture Secretary told me: “We can’t suddenly become a nation of Cape Verde. They have a system. We have chaos.” And there’s the rub. The Lobby knows that the FA’s reform process is stalled, the Premier League’s power is entrenched, and the Treasury is watching every penny.
But the political calculus is shifting. Cape Verde’s success is a narrative weapon. For those who want to decentralise power, it’s proof that small can be mighty. For the big four nations, England included, it’s a warning. If Spain can be held, so can we all.
The PM’s spokesperson refused to be drawn on the specific result, but acknowledged “the government is always interested in sporting excellence.” Translation: they’re watching the polls. And the polls show that football matters. A surprising number of voters in key marginals care deeply about the national team’s performance.
So expect MPs to start talking about “the Cape Verde model” in the coming weeks. Expect select committee hearings. Expect the Culture Secretary to be asked about it at despatch box. And behind it all, the quiet hum of a political game being played out on a pitch far from Westminster.
For the smaller nations, this is about more than football. It’s about identity. It’s about recognition. And if Cape Verde can do it, why not Scotland? Why not Wales? The question will be asked, and answered, not on the terraces, but in the tea rooms of the Palace of Westminster.
The draw has given hope. But hope is a dangerous thing in politics. It can be built upon, or crushed. Right now, the Lobby is watching which way the wind blows. And for once, it’s not coming from Brussels or Washington. It’s coming from a tiny archipelago off the coast of West Africa.
