Agony or ecstasy? For a nation gripped by the biggest sporting drama in 55 years, it all came down, almost unbearably, to a penalty shoot-out and one last fateful kick of a ball.
When an Italian goalkeeper dived to his left to secure the Euro 2020 trophy, England had lost their first tournament final since the 1966 World Cup, and the Gareth Southgate story, which had come so close to touching a beautiful glory, had the cruellest sort of Hollywood twist.
The England manager has spent half his life answering questions about a failed penalty 25 years ago on this site, against Germany in the semi-finals of Euro 96. He has done more than any England manager to try to cure the nation of its penalty neurosis.
He has done so much exceptional work to lead England forward that this was no way for a thrilling, joyous summer to end, as Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho and Bukayo Saka failed with their spot-kicks and a night of national catharsis became one of anguished shock instead.
Make that 56 years, and counting. After all that time you would think that defeat should become easier to bear but as a bereft Wembley emptied, this one cut deep.
The party was all set. England had the lead and, for a little while it seemed, an extraordinary confidence. But no one could dispute that Italy had earned their victory for the way they ripped the momentum back from England. Football’s Coming Close.
As the sombre crowds headed away from Wembley, they walked past the statue of Bobby Moore standing sentinel outside the home of English football. The icon of 1966 will have the plinth all to himself for a while longer.
There was to be no historic triumph, no trophy, but Southgate has built an England team to be proud of. This is a side to last, rather than the usual recriminations and a manager humiliated and all the work tossed in the bin. This squad, the second youngest in the tournament, came closer than any to following the legends of 1966. There is one more step to take, but they have inspired hope and belief. It’s coming — just not yet. The craving from the country was that “freedom day” would come early for English football; that the national team would cast off all the angst and the baggage and discover, after all this time, how it is to win.
With royalty inside a heaving Wembley, one of the biggest audiences in English TV history and the national team so close to glory, the echoes of 1966 were all there.
Outside were scenes of wild hysteria, and that was six hours before kick-off. Of arriving at Wembley on July 30 1966, the great sportswriter Hugh McIlvanney observed that it was “like walking into an ordinary, familiar room and knowing instinctively that something vital and unbearably dramatic was happening”. All who came here recognised the sensation. Something was in the air, and not just the alcohol and cannabis fumes and red flares of the vast crowds that had gathered on Wembley Way since lunchtime in scenes of mass bedlam. Sadly, it also had a whiff of chaos and dozens of fans broke down fences and knocked over security staff to force their way in.
A crowd that should have been around 65,000 was undoubtedly swollen by gangs of lads swarming past stewards inside. As well as the prime minister and Prince William, there was a Hollywood A-lister in Tom Cruise (perhaps being lined up to play Southgate if only England could pull off a famous triumph). Football royalty was represented by Sir Geoff Hurst, hat-trick hero from 1966.
The atmosphere was spine-tingling; unrecognisable from the corporate, stuffy image of Wembley. The noise was raw and frenzied.
A short, forgettable opening ceremony — a few Big Ben bongs, a dash of military band and some dancers — and then we were off on one of those nerve-jangling rides that only the England football team can give you.
For half an hour, almost catching themselves by surprise in their excellence, England played like champions. Never in 25 years in this job has this reporter heard a roar like the one which greeted Luke Shaw’s beautiful half-volley finish after less than two minutes. The crowd were on a bigger high than the rave tent at Glastonbury.
For the next 30 minutes, England played fantasy football. There had been worries about Southgate’s selection, reverting to an extra defender. The country has always wanted gung-ho football, and a winning goal from Roy of the Rovers. Southgate sought stability and balance and control and team ethic.
For a while he looked to have taken yet another assured step, perhaps even his best. But then England started playing like it was the 85th minute when it was not even half-time, and Italy started doing what everyone feared they might by dominating the ball. And the tension grew worse. And worse.
If the first half hour flew by in a state of almost incredulous bliss, everything after that felt like it might last a lifetime. By the time that Leonardo Bonucci equalised for Italy, Shaw’s goal felt like it must have come from another match altogether. Extra time loomed as an inevitability. Would this be a night when a hero would stand up like Hurst all those years ago? On it went, two exhausted teams heading to penalties.
If there is any consolation for those young men who stepped up — Rashford, 23, Sancho, 21, and Saka, 19 — they could find no one better to console them than an England manager who knows just how it feels. Southgate not only recovered from his penalty nightmare but grew from it.
Those three talented players and this bright young squad will be back in a tournament soon enough. But they will be plagued by the question of whether they will ever have a better chance.
