How we conversed. On late-night broadcasts, floating faces above a scrolling ticker. On flights and rail journeys, at bus shelters and florists and children’s parties, frantically attempting to bridge the dullness of the present with the excitement of what was to come, trying in some way to pre-experience the emotions, the adrenaline spike, the pounding heart. At the office restroom sinks, muttering reckontheylldoit, theymightjusty’know, shake-shake, and your brilliant deconstruction of the Rice-Anderson-Mainoo midfield trio drowns in the roar of the hand dryer.
Two years of this buildup. Vast sums poured into tickets, accommodation, rideshares, jerseys, takeaways, banners, the time spent on mapping apps searching for late-night dining in Riga, the ceaseless drama around Jude Bellingham and whether he should have been omitted (as it transpired, no). How we agonized over every tiny detail of the journey, over whether Danny Welbeck had done enough to merit a call-up (as it transpired, no). All building up to that Wednesday night when England lead 1-0 in a World Cup semi against Argentina and your entire emotional well-being hinges on whether a group of wealthy players and a wealthy German manager can hold their nerve for 40 minutes, or not.
As it turned out, they didn’t. And amid the battered landscape of English football, a narrative is already emerging. That while Thomas Tuchel’s changes might have strengthened Argentina’s territorial grip, England were largely under siege well before that, already retreating and hunkering down in a defensive shell. That this represents a deeper dysfunction, maybe even a character flaw, a recurring cycle of letdowns in which — say — being thrashed 4-1 by Germany in 2010 and losing to France in 2022 with 57% possession are essentially the same crime, a shared malady, the identical pill in different coatings.
Such assertions must be confronted at their origin, for left unchallenged they harden into accepted truth, irrespective of their accuracy. Well, I’ve reviewed the footage so you won’t have to. Specifically, the 13-minute spell from Anthony Gordon’s goal finding the net until the second hydration pause. During that period England had to withstand considerable Argentinian pressure. Corner kicks, crosses, a header from Nicolás González that Jordan Pickford does well to parry. Yet nothing about this is at all exceptional.
In fact, almost immediately after Argentina restart they hand England another chance, Lisandro Martínez allowing the ball to slip under his foot, Morgan Rogers pouncing on the loose ball, and Harry Kane just failing to bring the pass under his spell. By the 61st minute England have forced Argentina deep into their own defensive third. In the minutes that follow, both Kane and Declan Rice attempt speculative efforts from range.
The issue here isn’t strategy, nor a doomed mindset, nor a deep-rooted national habit of collapse, but flawed choices, possibly compounded by tiredness. Lionel Messi is not yet dictating the tempo, and nothing that comes next is unavoidable or written in the stars, much less a symptom of a generational curse. The hydration interval arrives and England can catch their breath, maybe even introduce a substitution or two to inject freshness. At this precise moment Tuchel opts to detonate England’s hopes of lifting the trophy.
As an alternative scenario, what would a bolder, more constructive approach have resembled at this stage? Kane was plainly exhausted, and leaving him on for the slim chance of a penalty shootout an hour later was irrational. So Ollie Watkins enters to stretch the opposition and spearhead the press. Rogers has run his race, so you bring on Bukayo Saka, not merely for his defensive diligence but for his capacity to dribble through pressure and exploit any spaces that arise. Above all, you trust the collective identity, the shared drive and ambition that understands World Cups are seized, not merely endured.
“If we go out, we go out playing our game,” Tuchel had told his squad at halftime of the opening match against Croatia, a rallying cry that produced some of the most exhilarating football an England side has displayed at a major finals that I can recall. Where did that credo disappear to, Thomas? Or rather: where did that version of Thomas vanish? Possibly somewhere on the journey to the Azteca, or amid the Miami swelter, Tuchel mislaid the uncomplicated belief that had carried England to this stage.
This is how you finish with six defenders on the field, with Saka, Watkins, Kobbie Mainoo, Eberechi Eze, and Noni Madueke all fresh and unused on the sidelines, and Cole Palmer, Phil Foden, Trent Alexander-Arnold, Adam Wharton, and Morgan Gibbs-White back at home. Between the second hydration stoppage and Argentina’s second goal, England saw less than 8% of the ball, completed a mere five passes in 25 minutes, and permitted a 39-year-old MLS-based player to enjoy exactly the kind of contest he would have dreamed about.
We need not dissect every individual choice; the point being made concerns a broader trend. For an England supporter, this might be the most painful element: we had faith in this group and these players right until the final whistle. What if Tuchel himself never truly believed in them from the start?
“Retaining possession is not ingrained in our makeup the way it is for Spain, Argentina, or Brazil,” Tuchel stated afterward. While that may have been undeniably true in the past, it is now, at best, debatable and, at worst, a piece of manipulation that ought to rule Tuchel out of the role immediately. Rice, Saka, Mainoo, Elliot Anderson, Eze, Reece James, John Stones: based on what we witness from them at club level, are these players who struggle to hold onto the ball? It is perhaps unsurprising that in the days since, reports have surfaced from within the England setup suggesting the players themselves were unhappy with Tuchel’s risk-averse game plan — a plan that gave them no escape routes, no alternatives, no instruments save the most primitive.
These are footballers eager to play, to showcase their talent, buoyed by thousands who drained their savings to make the journey, to chase a feeling, to experience something. This is no longer a country that feebly underachieves on the global stage, that overlooks the tactical and technical dimensions of the game, that trembles at the prospect of a shootout. Is it unrealistic to expect a manager who sees what these players are capable of, rather than fretting over what they might not be? There are sober voices arguing that removing the coach now would be an emotional overreaction, that no superior candidate exists, that a lucrative contractual deal must be respected.
Yet for a manager appointed to triumph in these defining moments, sabotaging a World Cup semi-final appears to be the most alarming conduct possible. And beyond this lies the narrow vision, the lack of bravery, the nerve to belittle the entire English football culture instead of owning up to personal timidity. Tuchel was brought in to unlock the immense promise of a golden generation of English players. On the evidence so far, it’s not obvious that he can even recognize it.
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