England reach the Euro 2024 Final and face Spain.

 England reach the Euro 2024 Final and face Spain.

So there we were thinking that another chance had been blown and another hard luck story would be confronting the breakfast tables of England. We were convinced that England were a minute or two away from another half an hour of insufferable heartache, a thousand probing inquests into England's poor showing at Euro 2024 when, suddenly, fate came to our rescue. We'd resigned to ourselves to extra time, yet more indecision and then the intolerable charade of penalty kicks when Lady Luck once again bailed us out of trouble. It had been one long, hard, gruelling, punishing, excruciatingly painful evening for the England football team and most of us were probably beyond caring.

It was 1-1 between England and the Netherlands and it just looked as if both teams were just out on their feet. England were now emotionally involved and engaged in the contest, a side who had suddenly found that the game was simple and ultimately rewarding. Gareth Southgate, England's loyal and splendidly modest manager, had said before the game that a burden had been lifted from the players shoulders and now there was a clarity of purpose about the national side that none of us had hitherto seen. It was almost as if a heavy sack of coals had been pushing down on the England players and it was beginning to hurt.

But, after 90 minutes of psychological warfare, fluctuating, end to end football and, quite possibly some of the most dramatic events unfolding, England and the Netherlands really couldn't find anymore to give. They had both gone to toe to toe with each other, all guns blazing, hell for leather, on the front foot from the word go and unrelenting in their commitment to the cause, dedicated to winning at all costs. At times it was unsightly and, in the next breath, pulsating, unbelievable, gobsmacking and a major source of fascination.

Throughout the whole of Euro 2024, England have been like a tortoise in hibernation, hiding away comfortably from all the pundits, experts and analysts who had made no secret of their disapproval of the way England had approached this tournament. In fact England seemed to take a verbal roasting from their camp followers, the naysayers and doom and gloom merchants who had just given up on the national side. And yet, after muddling, blundering, staggering, stuttering and limping their way unpleasantly through the whole of this European Championship, England just lunged at the finishing line this evening.

They had overcome those traumatic group stage preliminaries like hardened criminals who had felt ashamed of themselves in a court of law but couldn't admit to their heinous crime. So the jury has been well and truly out on Gareth Southgate's England and most of us have been watching with our hands over our eyes, hardly believing the incriminating evidence against them. If this had been a proper trial, England would have been guilty as sin and some of us would have been glad to see the back of them.

This has not been an edifying watch for England's devoted hordes of fans who follow them everywhere and believed that yesterday was somehow different. At previous tournaments, England had started bonding with each other, finding common ground, confiding in each other, sharing favourite hobbies and pursuits, cycling together, swimming together and then finding something resembling compatibility. The days of petty internal squabbles and arguments had long since disappeared. England had sung together on the same hymn sheet and the morning assembly had been a rousing one.

There have been now two consecutive European Championship Finals, a World Cup semi final in 2018 where Russian hospitality had taken most of us by complete surprise. Admittedly, it all broke down against Croatia but England had left their first footprints at a major tournament. Four years later, England had achieved another notable quarter final place at the World Cup in Qatar but France had that indefinable je ne sais quoi, that delightful joie de vivre and esprit de corps and England were yesterday's Camembert. 

Overall, England have emerged as a side to be reckoned with and that was regarded as a positive and welcome progress. Rather than just scratching each other's eyes and rolling out of wine bars at two o'clock in the morning, England are a cohesive force, a meeting of great minds, always there for each other, learning to laugh again without hearing those savage attacks on their character. Of course it hasn't been easy but then this transitional period and major cultural shift, was always likely to be an ongoing, long term project.

So after the outrageous antics of Gazza in Euro 96 before the tournament and watery dentist chairs, now it was time to get down to the serious business amongst football's most learned circles. Holland, of course, were still haunted by Euro 96, that long, golden summer in England where everything seemed to fit into place perfectly. Then both Teddy Sheringham, Alan Shearer, Paul Gascoigne and Tony Adams did their utmost to restore normality to proceedings, reaching the semi final of Euro 96 only to find that Germany were in their way again.

But Holland were thrashed by Terry Venables irresistible England 4-1 and the rest is well chronicled history. And so it was that some of us were privately worried that the Dutch were still licking their wounds last night even if it was 28 years ago and it was time to move on. Last night though, England were in the mood to rub salt into old wounds, aggravating the bruises and finding some chemical formula that would make matters a whole lot worse. This was no time for friendly alliances and polite handshakes because this meant something vitally important to both sides.

So it was that Gareth Southgate took his seat on the bench like a man who had just concluded another crucial meeting behind the scenes and was fed up with those flip charts and complex graphs. At times Southgate has been fighting the kind of battle that none of us should ever have to put up with. On the one hand he's seen as something of a Messiah, a man with miracle cures and magical potions and the other like a flawed and vulnerable character who always comes up with a temporary solution but never seems to find a definitive answer to the real problems.

Southgate reminds you of that individual at a dinner party who takes enormous pleasure in talking about  financial balance sheets and impressive profit margins but can only hope that things will get better if the company shows a loss. So we accepted Southgate at face value and just took a deep breath. It could have gone horribly awry for England when the Netherlands took an early lead but Southgate just held on to crumbs of comfort because the goal had been conceded early on in the game and nobody should panic.

Then, England proceeded to work their way back into the game cautiously and prudently, economical with their passes and almost reluctant to commit themselves too much in case the Dutch were just waiting for another accident to happen. From there onwards, England reset delicately with Kyle Walker and John Stones slowly but surely shepherding the ball away from a briefly rampant Dutch attack. Marc Guehi, back in the England starting line up, patrolled at the back like a lighthouse keeper, snuffing out the attacking threat that the Dutch still possessed.

But it was much further forward where England finally lit the blue touch paper, their movements much more co-ordinated and now collaborative. There was a snap to their passing, skilful touches that, at long last began to look threatening and, ultimately productive. Whereas before Declan Rice, Kobbie Mainoo, Phil Foden and the superbly effective Bukayo Saka had looked somewhat burnt out and drained, now there was a renewed vitality about England's football. England's football now had a verve and vivacity about it that most of us had forgotten about, a joyousness that had been stifled by the weight of expectation on them.

Then Jude Bellingham, England's most prominent king maker, carved out a display that reminded everybody of his extravagant talent, a world class midfield inventor and creator, almost a pioneering spirit. England must have thought they'd never find another Paul Gascoigne, a man who could make the pendulum of their attack swing back in their favour in the blink of an eye. Bellingham carries the ball with him like a City gent once took his bowler hat and suitcase into a lucrative bank. There is an effortless simplicity about Bellingham's game, few airs or graces and no posh affectations. He runs with the ball with only thought on his mind and the end product is one to admire like an art exhibit.

Then, in a sustained period of pressure, England surged towards the penalty area with some lightning quick passes. A cross to Harry Kane, at the back of the Dutch penalty area found the Bayern Munich striker who leapt for the ball with an orange Netherlands defender rising in unison with him. Kane went up for the ball and looked as if he'd fallen awkwardly on the pitch. But then the referee had noticed contact had been made and thought again.

Seconds later, Kane was left writhing in pain and, to all intents and purposes, it just seemed  a minor collision of bodies. But then we realised that Kane's boot studs had been caught and tripped by the same Dutch opponent. After much deliberation at the VAR screen, the referee pointed to the penalty spot. Kane took his penalty with the composure of a man who had done the same thing a thousand times. The ball nestled in the corner of the net and England were back on level terms. The first half came and went.

The second half followed a similar pattern, England edging the contest with fluid, one touch football that lifted the heart. Rice found Foden in acres of space, Bellingham reached for Saka and it was as if somebody had flicked a switch for England. The timing and incisiveness of England's passing had now reached exalted levels and a winner, although frustratingly elusive, had to be just around the corner. Then after Cole Palmer and Ollie Watkins had come off the subs bench, England found a second wind. It did seem possible and England knew it as well.

With a minute to go of injury time left Declan Rice, as immaculate as ever in his more attacking midfield role, slipped the ball out beautifully to Cole Palmer. Palmer, with all the special instincts of a player just starting out, threaded another inch perfect ball into the path of Ollie Watkins. Watkins, who has now enjoyed one of his most successful seasons in a blossoming career with Aston Villa, took possession of the ball with admirable close ball control and, with his back to goal, turned his defender magnificently and fired a handsomely placed shot across Dutch goalkeeper Bart Veerbregen and into the net. England were through to their second consecutive Euro Final against Spain on Sunday in Berlin.

With the likes of the usually stylish Memphis Deplay, Cody Gapko and Xavi Simons all faltering and running out of steam after a promising start, England took full advantage of the orange army's defensive shortcomings. England are through to another big tournament Final and that may take some digesting in days to come before Sunday evening arrives. 

What we now have in prospect is a Euro 2024 Final of contrasting styles. Spain love to spread their passing game out like a picnic hamper on a blanket, players darting and dashing into space before somebody gives them a paint brush. Spain now have pedigree and stature as serial winners of World Cups and European Champions. England have only 1966 to cling onto by way of historic consolation.

At the moment, England will have to approach Sunday's European Championship Final in much the way that Sunderland must have addressed their FA Cup Final against lovely Leeds United 51 years ago. Immediately installed as underdogs who were bound to be beaten by Leeds, Sunderland threw the proverbial kitchen sink at Leeds and won with a single goal by Ian Porterfield who trapped the ball with his thigh and thumped the ball into the Leeds net with some meaning.

England may be without an Ian Porterfield in their forward line but a man called Ollie Watkins stepped up to the plate last night on a humid evening in Germany. Watkins may care to remember the last man in a claret and blue shirt to win a major trophy for the national side. Sir Geoff Hurst will settle back in front of his TV on Sunday evening and wonder whether any Englishman can emulate his remarkable hat-trick of goals in the victorious World Cup Final of 1966. We must hope that, for England's sake, something finally does work for England. It's over to you Gareth Southgate.