The World Cup final was about 40 minutes away. Anthony Gordon put them ahead early in the second half and Argentina were frazzled.
The emotion and the tension was crippling. For the first time, the South American fans had gone quiet. Were they about to go into mourning?
Their team looked lost. New Jersey and New York was in sight for the English. Their Wonderwall summer was turning supernova.
One supporter draped in a St George’s flag walked up and down the aisles in front of the Argentina supporters goading and jeering then, using his fingers to show them the score.
It was 1-0.
Until it wasn’t.
Thomas Tuchel, the German brought in on a fortune to take England where Gareth Southgate couldn’t, to World Cup glory, became overcome by a very English disease.
Fear. Panic. Insecurity. He no longer believed in his players.
Brave England bottled it. Their fans belted out Rule Britannia and then their team retreated. They turned to Big Dan Burn and Ezri Konsa to shore it up. They got to the hydration break but their minds had melted into oblivion.
Their legs went, their shape went, their heart went. For those who love a hate watch this was an all-timer in the annals of English disaster classes.
They tried to shut up shop and go with a back five. They had momentum and belief when Gordon scored but Tuchel decided to throw it all away.
Despondent English players. Alamy Stock Photo
Alamy Stock Photo
Against Lionel Messi. Argentina. The world champions. They were only too happy to rip England’s flimsy lead from their grasp and decide the game on their terms.
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Enzo Fernadez’s stunning strike from 25 yards on 85 minutes flew past the onrushing Jude Bellingham and before Jordan Pickford could berate any of his teammates, the England goalkeeper was already beaten.
England were too. They just didn’t know it yet. They got into nine minutes of second-half injury time and were out on their feet.
Lionel Scaloni knew it and of course he had to gamble. It paid off. They started to stay wide and get balls in the box. They hit the post twice either side of their leveller.
The winner was headed in by Lautaro Martinez just after one of those efforts off the woodwork from Alexis Mac Allister squired away.
Djed Spence tried a hook clearance in the box and strained something. Messi saw him pull up as he collected the ball and then went in for the kill. He drove at Spence and lofted the ball into the area for the substitute to deliver.
Argentina’s match winners came from the bench. England lost because of the manager sitting on theirs.
Pickford sprinted to the centre circle and tried to cajole teammates along with Harry Kane as Argentinians celebrated with abandon all around them.
More indignity was to come for the England players. After they slunk away from acknowledging their fans at the end where Gordon scored, they had to make tracks in the opposite direction to reach the changing rooms.
Lisandro Martinez of Manchester United was leading the party for Argentina right beside them, banging a marching band drum and playing a tune to go with England’s Walk of Shame.
The pain those players must feel at being so close to a World Cup final and then performing in such a manner that made you realise how far away they truly were.
Messi, at 39, killed them with instinct and purpose. Please let him go on forever. For moments like this. England won’t forget the first time they got to experience Messi.
It brought a manic end to an unforgettable occasion.
Before the football, which was stifled by spite as much as anything, the anthems told a story.
England stood to attention for God Save The King but such was the deafening noise created by the Argentina fans you could not hear it. One colleague nearby in the media tribune was still sitting down and hadn’t realise the anthems had started.
England fans attempted to boo in return but it was useless. Messi looked close to tears as he sung.
It says so much about the chaotic nature of the first half that Messi stumbled on his backside trying to receive a simple pass, took a sloppy second touch to lose possession, and then miscontrolled a third ball.
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That was all in the space of around 10 minutes.
In the opening half an hour, for the first time since records began in the World Cup, there was not a single shot on goal.
By half-time neither side had even managed a shot on target. It didn’t feel like that was the purpose of the game.
This was a semi-final with a difference.
Fernandez clattered into the back of Elliot Anderson’s head within a couple of minutes. The England midfielder later shown the first yellow card for a high lunge that took out Messi.
Lisandro Martinez then stopped a dangerous counter attack with Morgan Rogers and Anthony Gordon so joined Anderson in the book.
Referee Ismail Elfath was getting his steps in and earning his day’s pay. You could list the catalogue of fouls – 19 before the break – but they will instead no doubt be part of a study on officiating.
Elfath can write a 10,000-word dissertation on the dynamics at play and stresses involved in overseeing this tie.
This was a test not just of endurance but each other’s patience, probing the character of your rival to see if he would remain disciplined and focused.
Compared to yesterday’s clash between Spain and France in Dallas this was like a different sport. The beauty here was not in the co-ordinated pressing or slick passing technique, but the stomach-churning tension being served up with so much on the line.
And when it really mattered England’s manager showed he hadn’t the heart or faith in his players to do anything other than retreat.
Argentina pushed and pushed and got their rewards. Their players and fans were still singing in unison 20 minutes after full time.
Their songs will echo. Argentina refused to be beaten by England when England didn’t believe they could win.
They now have one more game to become back-to-back world champions. That is true greatness.
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Thomas Tuchel and England's timid retreat as Argentina show true greatness
ENGLAND HAD CONTROL.
The World Cup final was about 40 minutes away. Anthony Gordon put them ahead early in the second half and Argentina were frazzled.
The emotion and the tension was crippling. For the first time, the South American fans had gone quiet. Were they about to go into mourning?
Their team looked lost. New Jersey and New York was in sight for the English. Their Wonderwall summer was turning supernova.
One supporter draped in a St George’s flag walked up and down the aisles in front of the Argentina supporters goading and jeering then, using his fingers to show them the score.
It was 1-0.
Until it wasn’t.
Thomas Tuchel, the German brought in on a fortune to take England where Gareth Southgate couldn’t, to World Cup glory, became overcome by a very English disease.
Fear. Panic. Insecurity. He no longer believed in his players.
Brave England bottled it. Their fans belted out Rule Britannia and then their team retreated. They turned to Big Dan Burn and Ezri Konsa to shore it up. They got to the hydration break but their minds had melted into oblivion.
Their legs went, their shape went, their heart went. For those who love a hate watch this was an all-timer in the annals of English disaster classes.
They tried to shut up shop and go with a back five. They had momentum and belief when Gordon scored but Tuchel decided to throw it all away.
Against Lionel Messi. Argentina. The world champions. They were only too happy to rip England’s flimsy lead from their grasp and decide the game on their terms.
Enzo Fernadez’s stunning strike from 25 yards on 85 minutes flew past the onrushing Jude Bellingham and before Jordan Pickford could berate any of his teammates, the England goalkeeper was already beaten.
England were too. They just didn’t know it yet. They got into nine minutes of second-half injury time and were out on their feet.
Lionel Scaloni knew it and of course he had to gamble. It paid off. They started to stay wide and get balls in the box. They hit the post twice either side of their leveller.
The winner was headed in by Lautaro Martinez just after one of those efforts off the woodwork from Alexis Mac Allister squired away.
Djed Spence tried a hook clearance in the box and strained something. Messi saw him pull up as he collected the ball and then went in for the kill. He drove at Spence and lofted the ball into the area for the substitute to deliver.
Argentina’s match winners came from the bench. England lost because of the manager sitting on theirs.
Pickford sprinted to the centre circle and tried to cajole teammates along with Harry Kane as Argentinians celebrated with abandon all around them.
More indignity was to come for the England players. After they slunk away from acknowledging their fans at the end where Gordon scored, they had to make tracks in the opposite direction to reach the changing rooms.
Lisandro Martinez of Manchester United was leading the party for Argentina right beside them, banging a marching band drum and playing a tune to go with England’s Walk of Shame.
The pain those players must feel at being so close to a World Cup final and then performing in such a manner that made you realise how far away they truly were.
Messi, at 39, killed them with instinct and purpose. Please let him go on forever. For moments like this. England won’t forget the first time they got to experience Messi.
It brought a manic end to an unforgettable occasion.
Before the football, which was stifled by spite as much as anything, the anthems told a story.
England stood to attention for God Save The King but such was the deafening noise created by the Argentina fans you could not hear it. One colleague nearby in the media tribune was still sitting down and hadn’t realise the anthems had started.
England fans attempted to boo in return but it was useless. Messi looked close to tears as he sung.
It says so much about the chaotic nature of the first half that Messi stumbled on his backside trying to receive a simple pass, took a sloppy second touch to lose possession, and then miscontrolled a third ball.
That was all in the space of around 10 minutes.
In the opening half an hour, for the first time since records began in the World Cup, there was not a single shot on goal.
By half-time neither side had even managed a shot on target. It didn’t feel like that was the purpose of the game.
This was a semi-final with a difference.
Fernandez clattered into the back of Elliot Anderson’s head within a couple of minutes. The England midfielder later shown the first yellow card for a high lunge that took out Messi.
Lisandro Martinez then stopped a dangerous counter attack with Morgan Rogers and Anthony Gordon so joined Anderson in the book.
Referee Ismail Elfath was getting his steps in and earning his day’s pay. You could list the catalogue of fouls – 19 before the break – but they will instead no doubt be part of a study on officiating.
Elfath can write a 10,000-word dissertation on the dynamics at play and stresses involved in overseeing this tie.
This was a test not just of endurance but each other’s patience, probing the character of your rival to see if he would remain disciplined and focused.
Compared to yesterday’s clash between Spain and France in Dallas this was like a different sport. The beauty here was not in the co-ordinated pressing or slick passing technique, but the stomach-churning tension being served up with so much on the line.
And when it really mattered England’s manager showed he hadn’t the heart or faith in his players to do anything other than retreat.
Argentina pushed and pushed and got their rewards. Their players and fans were still singing in unison 20 minutes after full time.
Their songs will echo. Argentina refused to be beaten by England when England didn’t believe they could win.
They now have one more game to become back-to-back world champions. That is true greatness.
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