England hold five time World Champions Brazil to a goal-less draw.
If all goes according to plan then both England and Brazil will approach their World Cup campaigns in Russia next summer in a completely different frame of mind to the one they adopted in last night's friendly. There were moments during this game when you began to wonder whether indeed this game had been dipped in chloroform and used as some kind of strange laboratory experiment.
The game itself seemed the ideal opportunity for England to test themselves against some of the greatest footballing nations in the world if not the greatest. Sadly Brazil were simply demolished by Germany in the 2014 World Cup held in their very own backyard. Since then a huge rehabilitation programme in Brazil has meant that the international team have been left in a temporary state of limbo.
Three years later and the recovery may take rather longer than they might have expected but there were signs last night that the medicine does seem to be working . For long spells at Wembley last night Brazil had so much possession of the ball that it almost seemed a crime to take it away from them. They nursed the ball, treasured the ball, caressed the ball and spun ever increasing webs around the home side with mesmerising ease. In fact England must have felt completely trapped by a Brazilian side who had just ambushed their opponents and refused to let them go.
So it is that England found themselves on the end of two goal-less draws against multiple winners of the World Cup in years gone by. Against Germany at Wembley England found themselves drawn into complex maze that became more and more frustrating with every passing minute. In fact so disciplined and methodical had the Germans become that England looked as though they'd been hypnotised.
A couple of days later and England found themselves up against a completely new mathematical equation. Where Germany had presented England with mixed and matched chemicals, Brazil had just used the silkiest gossamer to weave their very own brand of geometric patterns. The Germans, for their part, seemed hell bent on carrying out what became a very practical demonstration of draughtsmanship on England.
What became abundantly clear last night at Wembley is that both sides had succeeded in giving England the complete run around without ever suggesting at any point that England would ever crumble under any sustained attacking threat. In fact in both friendlies against Germany and Brazil it felt as though the visitors had given England the benefit of the doubt. Both of these matches had the air of a gracious compromise rather than some dangerous warning. Maybe England had been left off the hook without anybody getting hurt into the bargain.
The critics of course would have been at pains to point that no useful purpose had been served by these potentially entertaining friendlies. Of course England came out of both games with not even the hint of a bloodied nose and simply glad that both Brazil and Germany were in a particularly charitable mood. How else to explain the explosion of intricate passing movements that Brazil did their utmost to weave around their opponents?
We all know about the beautiful football that the Brazilians have delighted us with throughout the ages. Theirs is a history, tradition and legacy that is unquestionable and, pleasingly, the real Brazil seemed to have returned last night. Their sweet, short passing philosophy regularly left England gasping for breath and tangled in terrible knots. By the end the home side were pleading for mercy and leniency.
By the end of last night's friendly England looked as if they were watching stars in front of their eyes such had been the cat's cradle of passes that Brazil had stitched together. There was that pure and instinctive movement that has become second nature to Brazilian football. When Neymar, the Paris St Germain magician took hold of the conductor's baton, the rest of his team mates took out their woodwind and percussion instruments and Brazil became a symphony of colour.
For the best part of 90 minutes Manchester City's Gabriel Jesus, Liverpool's Phillip Coutinho, Paulinho once of Spurs, Augusto. Marcello, the ever adventurous and visionary Danny Alves and eventually Chelsea's Wilian and Fernandinho conjured, schemed, invented and created in varying degrees. There was a genuine air of conspiracy in the Brazilian gameplan as Brazil stroked their passes around with a delicacy and daintiness that only they are capable of. Their passing was both circular, triangular and a simple joy to the eye so it was business as usual for the men in yellow.
But for all the hundreds and thousands of passes that Brazil had fashioned without even thinking about, the number of real goal scoring chances were so few and limited that you began to wonder what all the fuss was about. Of course their passing game should be almost compulsory at any level of the game because the purist you suspect would much prefer artistry to demoralising long ball dullness.
Your mind was taken back to your childhood when you first discovered all about Brazil. In the 1970 World Cup held in the sweltering heat of Mexico City, Gerson, Tostao, Rivelino, Carlos Alberto and the incomparable genius of Pele had left Sir Alf Ramsey's wilting England in the dizziest of mid-day dehydration. That day Brazil had left their most indelible imprint on my eight year old mind. Their football was of a magical and mystical nature that seemed to endure through the following decades.
That day we became totally enamoured with the style and subtlety of Brazilian football. We knew that there was no secret about their approach because quite clearly there is a unique imprint and template about them that never fails to enchant. Their football is indeed both off the cuff, spontaneous, theatrical and unashamedly flamboyant. It has a richly dramatic quality, a sense of cabaret and burlesque that leaves you both stunned and transfixed, salivating at their touch, the quick witted sensitivity, that breathtaking samba dance of sexy sensuality.
Still England were not to be frightened by their supposedly illustrious opponents. Gareth Southgate had sent out another team that reminded you of a chemistry teacher toying with his test tubes. But throughout this game there seemed to be no definitive formula to England's game. Once again the sense of experimentation and another dress rehearsal had lulled everybody into a false sense of security.
West Ham goalkeeper Joe Hart made some outstanding saves while the back four of Manchester City's now domineering centre half John Stones, the slowly blossoming Liverpool full back Joe Gomez and the remarkably fast Kyle Walker raided positively down the flank on consistent overlaps. Your faith in the England football team was restored to some extent. But last night there was something distinctly lacking about England, a cumbersome slovenliness about their football that was disturbing. At times England seemed to create their own set of difficulties when the simpler options were there on offer.
The midfield trio of Harry Maguire, Jake Livermore and Ruben Loftus Cheek battled heartwarmingly for possession but at times they reminded you of young children asking for the ball back when they had quite obviously done very little to deserve it. That garden fence must have seemed the most insurmountable of obstacles and how polite those youngsters must have been.
Maguire toiled and sweated away in a white England shirt, exploring new areas and angles without deeply impressing as such. For Maguire this was all about gritty determination, perseverance and hoping against hope that eventually the Brazilians would give him a clearing in the forest. Ruben Lofuts Cheek represents an England that may come to fruition at some far distant World Cup but Loftus Cheek is lithe, lively, agile and commendably athletic. He has a natural skill that may need to be nurtured with care and love but Russia may be a World Cup too soon for the Crystal Palace youngster.
And finally there is Jamie Vardy, the Leicester striker who still seems to need, for reasons that may remain a mystery, long shirt sleeves. Admittedly it was a cold evening in North London but you had to wonder why the Vardy arms needed what looked to be an extra layer of clothing. Of course Vardy had a major influence in Leicester's Premier League title winning side but now he begins to look a paler imitation of his former self. Vardy is 30 now which, while not pensionable, means that the limbs and bones may not be as responsive as they used to be.
Manchester United's immensely talented striker Marcus Rashford once again showed some moments of fabulous individuality and creativity that may just provide England manager Gareth Southgate with the answer to his striking headache. Rashford seems to glide past his opponents as if they were somehow not there and his willingness to run at defenders and beat them at lightning pace will surely bring a much more noticeable twinkle to Southgate's eyes.
Still England saw out their high profile friendlies with an honourable share of spoils. The feeling persists that Gareth Southgate's England are still an ongoing project. Southgate once again looks like your friendly high street building society manager ever ready to co-operate with a pressing financial problem. The dark blue waistcoat is a perfect fit and that dreadful penalty disaster in Euro 96 against the Germans now seems like ancient history. Soon the England side will be opening their festive presents and looking forward to the ultimate challenges that will make or break them. Russia has always been the most grizzly bear but England have got enough problems as it is. Roll on Moscow.
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