Business | 2010.01.01
Bovines 1, Jokers 0 | Mark Lawson
Milton Keynes is up for the World Cup – and the concrete cows are over the moon
The possibility that World Cup football matches may be played in Milton Keynes – following its inclusion among the putative venues in England\'s bid to host the 2018 tournament – is another twist in the curious history of the most prominent representative of a mid-20th century political and architectural idea: the new town.
Whereas the other chosen venues – in, among others, north London, Plymouth, Bristol, Birmingham and Nottingham – have been associated with professional football for at least a century, Milton Keynes only got a league team in 2003 – and even then had to nick one from Wimbledon . "You\'ve got no history!" chant the supporters of rival teams.
And so the MK Dons\' football stadium – a vast, cantilevered construction, like suddenly finding another Wembley on scrubland in a business park – will revive the accusations that the place has always faced: rootless, opportunistic, a film set rather than a true community.
Living in a neighbouring county but doing much of my shopping in MK\'s immense, curved retail centre, I feel a quasi-local pride at the nod from the Football Association. Milton Keynes has built up a compelling and impressive backstory during the 42 years since it was created .
Milton Keynes was named after the original village in the location – a rural allusion that symbolised the blurring of town and country the developers hoped to achieve. Earlier new towns – notably Welwyn, in Hertfordshire – had designated themselves Garden Cities; but the one to be placed between Buckinghamshire and Northamptonshire attempted a more ambitious negotiation between street and field, car park and farmland: symbolised by the concrete cows of artist Liz Leyh, which stood on the green belt until they became a target for students.
As with most dreams of social engineering, this theory stumbled against realities. Intended in its earliest prototype to be a car-free city – with shoppers arriving by monorail – it is now, on a Saturday or Sunday, more or less a mile-wide traffic-jam. The rolling, lake-filled surrounding parks came to be perceived as a muggers\' dream. The town became associated with loneliness and soullessness; it was, by repute, the most fertile territory for door-to-door religions.
Even so, Milton Keynes was a pioneer. Brian Mawhinney , who picked the stadiums for the 2018 bid, has said that MK\'s was intended to represent the "future" of the game. He\'s gone to the right place: MK has been futuristic since before David Beckham was born.
The settlement, based on a grid designed to make driving resemble filling in a crossword, popularised out-of-town shopping and eating, drawing customers from miles around to massive cinemas (it had Britain\'s first multiplex) and retail parks. Apart from an initial ban on high buildings, the city can be seen to have previewed the increasing Americanisation of British living in the second half of the 20th century.
Parts of the concept do not translate but most problems have been corrected: the slightly sinister feel of the shopping centre has been addressed by a redesign that admits more light and creates an attractive central lobby. There\'s an innovative art gallery and well-scheduled theatre with a clever design – sliding walls changing the size of the auditorium.
And, after years in which Richard Branson was burned in effigy at Milton Keynes Central Station during most rush hours, there is now a fast, reliable rail link – presumably part of what attracted the World Cup planners.
In fact, it\'s only on football-historical grounds that MK could be thought an odd choice. The jokes will continue until the concrete cows come home, but they are increasingly unjustified.
For more information, please visit
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/[...]lton-keynes-world-cup-concrete
