England reach the last 16 in World Cup hammering of Panama.

England reach the last 16 in World Cup hammering of Panama.

And so it was that in the final week of June 2018 that England finally slumped over the line. Slowly but surely the England football team are beginning to look as though they mean business. At long last they've made it  through to the last 16 of the World Cup for the first time in what seems like ages. In fact the last time England qualified for the latter stages of a World Cup cave dwellers were carving their initials into the wall and mankind had yet to discover the joys of the Internet.

But ladies and gentlemen it can officially be told to the rest of England and its shire counties across the country that its football team have cracked the code, deciphered its meaning and found their worthy niche in world footballing folklore. For a long time now most of us had just given up, accepting reluctantly that we somehow don't belong in the honourable company of football's great and good.

It's true. England, that fair minded, independent and objective isle in the middle of Europe has conquered part of the world and completely demolished a nation whose current status in FIFA's world rankings may be no more than a passing thought. Panama were not only beaten 6-1 by England they were humiliated, demeaned, overwhelmed, overcome, totally sliced, diced and made to look both foolish, foolhardy and reduced to a laughing stock by those with an acerbic sense of humour.

England, that noble country of spinning wind turbines besides busy motorways, rolling hills, trickling streams, murmuring meadows, commanding pine trees in secretive forests, stern and unyielding bridges, cosy tea- shops, organic cafes, motorway service stations, cottages nestling next to quiet churches, old fashioned sweet shops with jars of sweets behind the counter, vicars of purity and red post boxes that are fundamentally English.

Yes everybody, England are through to the next round of the World Cup and how relieved are we? It's been a slog, war of attrition, a battle through the complicated mazes of world football and then finally Gareth Southgate's England, my England, our England, stood proudly at the groaning top table of the World Cup glitterati and found that they were no longer in need of oxygen because the air is so much fresher than ever before. Well, since 1966 perhaps.

But hold on. England have only qualified for the last 16, the mid way point of the competition, the half way stage and it's time to rest our fevered brows because we know what happens when you get all excited, hot and bothered. We find ourselves lulled into a false sense of security and drawn into a bubble of complacency where dreams become assumptions and then it all seems to unravel and go terribly wrong. It all becomes rather knotted, twisted and anti- climactic before descending into disaster.

We are not though about to be carried away by it all because we know what England, we know about their frailties and fragilities, their deficiencies and glaring shortcomings. We know that once we've negotiated those first, tricky stages of any major football tournament, everything seems to lose something in the translation. We know that somewhere along the line that big match temperament suddenly goes missing and nobody knows why and it all ends up in a penalty shoot out mess.

And yet for just 90 minutes this up and coming team of blossoming, wet behind the ears youngsters passed the first part of their driving test. These are the learners and novices at World Cup 2018, the ones whose initiation ceremony at a big football tournament seems to be turning into a roaring success. So far anyway. So far so good. Could do better but there are no complaints so far.

For the first half of this monumentally one sided mismatch England did what perhaps they may have been threatening to do for ages at World Cup. They took out all their pent up frustration, exploded into action and proceeded to cut open Panama rather like a surgeon in an operation theatre. It was cruel, merciless, hurtful but nonetheless incisive and devastating. England dissected Panama, swarmed forward like locusts and ultimately buried their opposition with six of the very best goals you will ever see scored in an England shirt. It did seem a horrid shame but there must have come a point yesterday when England became past caring.

It is now time to declare our unqualified admiration for England captain Harry Kane. Kane is quite definitely one of the nicest blokes in international football. Kane is cool, calm, well balanced, well adjusted, vastly intelligent, agreeable, personable and very good at the art of diplomacy. Not for Kane those outrageous promises and claims that England will undoubtedly win the World Cup, Not for Kane those grandiose statements about being the best international team in the world.

There is something very grounded and sensible about Kane that has to be respected and demands respect. Kane has a realistic perspective as captain of England. He knows for a fact that arrogance and presumption can do no good at any time, that if the country believes that we've already got one foot in the World Cup Final, then such outlandish delusions have to be dismissed completely. Because where on earth did that get England World Cup teams from yesteryear? Nowhere. So be prepared for some honest re-appraisals and quietly confident mutterings.

Still, even Kane must have thought he was in Disneyland after roughly half an hour of this 6-1 goalfest for England. The goals were pouring into the Panama net with all the majesty of a stunning waterfall and Kane not only achieved the hat-trick he could only have fantasised about but he also delivered the most vehement statement to the rest of the teams in this World Cup. Come and get us because we're ready for you.

Once again John Stones and Harry Maguire were the towers of strength and complete authority that must have lifted the heart of Gareth Southgate. Stones in particular was impeccably dominant, safe in possession, unruffled by the magnitude of the occasion and responsible in his distribution of the ball. Not for one moment were England ever concerned and tested by a team, who, in all fairness, must have thought they were about to face a bulldozer. Which was indeed the case.

Now it was that the ever immaculate and almost aristocratic figure of Jordan Henderson once again reminded us that he has to be regarded as a permanent fixture in the England team. Henderson floated around the pitch with all the ease and elegance of a butler serving drinks at a high class garden party. His passes were simple, understated, modest and almost unassuming. Henderson was neat, precise, charming, neat and meticulous, a man with a mission and a player with a sense of destiny.

Further up the pitch Ashley Young, although now perhaps approaching the twilight of his career, was still full of street knowledge and utterly capable of  slowing the game down, choosing the easy option while always aware of his equally as perceptive colleagues. But by a strange irony it was his Manchester United colleague Jessie Lingard who would provide the game with its most outstanding moment.

Quietly and unfussily Lingard has blended into England's now very cohesive attacking unit without panicking when the ball was lost. Lingard oozes the classiest of touches, drifting around the fringes of the England attack like a loitering stranger determined to ingratiate himself at a party where nobody wants to talk to you. But Lingard is the real article, finished and refined, ready to rock and roll and he was the one who scored the best goal of the afternoon and quite possibly the best goal of the tournament.

Raheem Sterling, for his part, did suggest that when the mood takes him and the temperature is right there can be no holding him back. Sterling was quick, electrifyingly fast, perhaps too clever and cunning for his own good but still an essential part of Gareth Southgate's grand master plan for the future. Sterling can certainly take on his man, dancing past defenders with an almost graceful impudence and then driving powerful crosses for the inrushing Harry Kane. But all too often Sterling reminds you of the school playground kid whose only objective in life is to beat all of his opponents with one mazy run.

So now for the unusual conveyor belt of goals. England opened the scoring in no time after an outswinging corner found John Stones charging into the penalty area. Stones, sensing that this was his time to grab the limelight, leapt into the air and sent the most powerful header soaring into the back of the Panama net. It was an incredible start but one that had to be tempered by the calibre of the opposition. Panama were punch bags, rag dolls, sadly lightweights but brave heroes nonetheless.

Then in a mad and seemingly interminably crazy spell of farcical Panamanian defending- or lack of defending The Central American gallants crumbled into the ground rather like one of those ancient housing tower blocks in England where a wrecking ball or a controlled explosion, brings down the entire building. Panama came tumbling down to the ground, knocked over like a set of dominoes in a pub.

Lingard, so lively and happily enthusiastic throughout the game, went surging into the penalty area, hurtling towards the Panama keeper before being foolishly and unnecessarily bundled over for an England penalty and not for the first time. It may have seemed like naivety of the most humiliating kind but that wasn't about to worry Harry Kane. Kane stepped forward, instantly decided which direction the ball was heading and blasted the ball high into the net. Two up with four to go.

Minutes later England were three up and hardly able to believe just how straightforward this exercise would be. This was indeed the most aesthetically pleasing goal England had ever produced for quite a while. In fact if this had been an exhibit at the Tate Modern Britain Museum in London then most of us would have elevated this one to the highest plinth. It was indeed a work of art, a beautifully constructed, elegantly carved and joyously executed goal that was straight out of a Brazilian, German or Spanish brochure.

A flurry of passes from just inside the Panama half resulted in Jessie Lingard latching easily onto yet another pass, cutting in from the flank and then curling the most beautiful shot past a keeper who by now must have felt extremely victimised. It was one of those moments in football when you just want the game to stop for a minute, collect your thoughts and believe that even the impossible is possible. It was time to catch your breath and smell the coffee, a vintage moment of quality, a goal suitable in any art gallery.

By now a distraught Panama team were just praying for the final whistle let alone the half time version. England destroyed their opponents, breaking their hearts with every single attack,  converging on the Central Americans, stampeding forward like ferocious bulls on the prairie and just blasting open the Panamanian defence like a bank safe in an audacious heist.

It was now time for England's fourth goal. A deep, towering Harry Kane free kick was launched into the penalty area like a missile, Henderson deftly flicked on towards the far post and after a brief scramble, John Stones was ideally placed to clip home a goal that had floored Panama into submission. It was now that you could begin to see the smouldering debris of a defence that must have been privately giggling at their misfortune.

It may have been an opportune moment for damage limitation but England were in no mood for either charity or leniency. From yet another set piece, England profited from complete defensive silliness. Harry Kane, who by now must have been lost for words, was manhandled, shoved, pulled back and unceremoniously bundled to the ground. After repeated warnings from a baffled referee, the man in charge pointed to the penalty spot again. Qute what was going through the collective minds of the Panama defence is anybody's guess. Still, Kane stepped up to the plate and smashed the ball high into the net for number five.

The second half of course now simply fizzled out into a training ground five- a- side match where the team with a substantial half time lead just pass the ball around with nothing at all in the way of positive attacking intent. Shortly into the second half England enjoyed the icing on the cake with a sixth goal. Kyle Walker, also unflappable at the back, came forward to join an England attack who were now feasting themselves on goals, laying the ball back to Reuben Loftus Cheek. Loftus Cheek, a player of considerable potential, thumped a shot fiercely towards goal only for the back of Harry Kane's foot to deflect the ball fortunately if gladdeningly into the net for the sixth goal of the day.

With the whole of England now celebrating like never before, Panama looked as though they'd now been given the freedom to do whatever they liked. England had offered some brief respite from an incessant wave after wave of attacking from England.  Step forward one Felipe Baloy who met a nicely driven ball towards him and Baloy swept home Panama's consolation goal on the day.

Oh what a night indeed. Late June 2018. England, for all their past World Cup troubles and anxieties, have advanced into the next round of the World Cup. Now the probabilities are thrown into a giant vat of possibilities and now England may find that they'll have to keep their cards close to their chest because this is all about bluff and counter bluff. It's time to fly the St George flags, display the Union Jack and hope against hope that this year could be our year. What a game, what a team. We can hardly bare to look at times. You can stop hiding behind the sofa. England are still in Russia. Yippee!