After days of hype, endless previews and enough dramatic music to invade a small country, game day finally arrived. It started exactly as expected, with Argentina demonstrating that football is as much about psychology and gamesmanship as it is about passing the ball. There were niggling tackles, theatrical tumbles, mysterious injuries that disappeared the instant possession changed and constant conversations with the referee. Actual football occasionally threatened to break out, but not often enough to spoil the occasion. By half time there was very little between the sides. A few promising attacks, a handful of “go on!” moments and not much genuine quality. It wasn’t exactly a classic, but England looked organised enough and there was every reason to believe they were still in the contest.

The Goal That Changed Everything

The second half became a little more open and, on 55 minutes, England finally produced something worth shouting about. Morgan Rogers delivered an excellent cross and Anthony Gordon finished confidently to send England into dreamland. Except it wasn’t dreamland at all. It was the beginning of a slow, painful and almost comically predictable collapse. The moment England went in front, they abandoned any intention of playing football and immediately began treating the remaining 35 minutes plus stoppage time like they were defending Fort Knox with a water pistol.

A Masterclass in Inviting Trouble

From that moment onwards England retreated further and further into their own half until it felt as though every player had been issued with a deckchair inside the penalty area. Argentina sensed the fear instantly and simply kept coming. High quality crosses rained into the box, the woodwork came to England’s rescue more than once, saves were made, chances were somehow fluffed and the pressure became relentless. England’s possession figures after taking the lead were almost beyond parody. Going 1-0 up against the reigning world champions and then deciding that 12% possession for the next 40 minutes was somehow a workable strategy is less tactical genius and more voluntary suffering.

The Equaliser Nobody Was Surprised By

When Argentina finally equalised on 85 minutes, it felt less like heartbreak and more like overdue paperwork finally being processed. There was not much shock inside the stadium because everyone watching knew what had been coming for the previous half hour. After levelling, Argentina looked the only side capable of winning it. Another effort struck the post, another chance went begging and England continued to sink ever deeper, as though the answer to relentless pressure was simply to invite a bit more of it. When the winning goal arrived it felt entirely deserved, and if anything the surprise was that it hadn’t happened much earlier.

Not Every Exit Is Heroic

This won’t go down alongside the great English heartbreaks because there was very little heroic about it. Had England somehow held on it would have ranked alongside one of football’s greatest daylight robberies, but there was never any sense that they were managing the game brilliantly. It felt more like poodles trying to negotiate with Rottweilers. If you’re going to lose to the world champions then at least lose having a proper go, not by handing them the keys to your front door and politely asking them to make themselves at home.

Roll the BBC Montage

Within minutes the BBC, as always, produced another masterpiece of tournament exit television. Slow motion close ups, devastated supporters, tears and a melancholy power ballad designed to convince us we’d witnessed another glorious chapter in England’s noble history of gallant failure. In fairness, nobody does these montages better. They’ve had the best part of sixty years to perfect them. The problem this time was that the pictures didn’t really fit the soundtrack. This wasn’t lions falling bravely after one last charge. It was a kitten cautiously backing into a corner and hoping nobody noticed.

Where the Responsibility Lies

Whether England’s retreat was entirely down to the players or came from the touchline is something only those inside the dressing room truly know. I’ve grown to like Thomas Tuchel during this tournament and there were some memorable moments along the way, but international football is unforgiving. When your team scores, immediately abandons any attacking ambition and spends the next 45 minutes desperately hoping the clock moves faster than the opposition, the responsibility ultimately lies with the manager.

That’s where the buck stops.