England drag Brazil down
and stepovers were a product not simply of an active imagination, but surely also the jollity of the occasion.
When the stakes are at their highest, back the Germans. When the stakes are low, you’d take Brazil every day of the week.
This, perhaps, was the main difference between the sides. Brazil’s players seem to relish having the ball – I mean really relish it, like there’s a spotlight on them, and this was The XFactor, and this is their one chance to impress Nicole Scherzinger and change the course of their life forever.
England’s relationship with the ball, while improving, is still very much in the counselling stage. Like there’s a spotlight on them, but this one’s coming from a police helicopter, and they’re being given until the count of three to drop the weapon before a trained marksman turns them into a stain on a Somerset field.
Of course, certain England players are capable of giving it some flash when they want to.
Marcus Rashford, for instance, was a bundle of effervescence up front, delighting the crowd by almost tricking his way through the entire Brazil defence early in the second half.
Southgate must surely know by now, if he didn’t already, that Rashford is the sort of player England must unshackle, unfetter, unleash, and quickly too, before Jose Mourinho turns him into a leftwing-back or something.
What you craved from England’s midfield was a little more verve: a little more pressure on the ball, a little more composure in possession, a little more invention with the pass.
But then you looked at the bench – Jack Cork, Jesse Lingard, Lewis Cook – and realised that for now at least, this is what we have.
And this is the England we have: flawed, fatalistic and fiercely competent. You can understand it. But that doesn’t mean you have to love it.
The Independent