English Curse

When all's said and done, it's the hope that kills you. After a couple of years of acknowledging that this is the weakest England team in decades, in recent months we gave in to the tempting school of thought that with no pressure on them, they might actually do well in Brazil this summer; essentially, we raised our expectations on the basis that we didn't really have any expectations. But inevitably, with a defence which can't cope with wingers and is very suspect on crosses, a midfield which is utterly unable to control the momentum of a game, and forwards who are well-known for misfiring on big occasions, it was bound to come crumbling down.

Of course, from the minute that Luis Suarez crashed home the goal which booked England's plane tickets home, all 0f the same old brickbats came flying from the same old quarters ("THEY DON'T SING THE NATIONAL ANTHEM" being a particular favourite, as if the ability to warble tunelessly for thirty seconds has any bearing whatsoever on their proficiency with a leather spheroid). The problem isn't that they don't care, or don't have any passion; on the contrary, I think their passion is very real, but also heavily counterweighted by fear of failure, compounded by their awareness of previous failures, and an utter lack of confidence that permeates as a result. Compare them to teams like Costa Rica or even Algeria who aren't crippled by the same fear, whose shortcomings in ability and tactics are made up for with headstrong self-belief. Producing English players for whom techniques like ball control under pressure and one-touch passing are as intuitive as dancing is a job that will take a generation, but producing players who have confidence in their own ability is something which can be done now.

It starts on Tuesday, when Roy will hopefully see sense and field a young, highly-motivated XI. The result won't make a blind bit of difference to our abortive campaign, but I'll be behind them all the way.