International football and that anti climactic feeling.

International football and that anti climactic feeling.

So here we are four months after that famous World Cup journey for the England football team. How agonisingly close did we come after all of those helter skelter moments, those emotional highs and ultimately lows that unfolded in the space of four glorious weeks. It was a time when it seemed as if the whole of England had gathered in every market town, village square, timber beamed pub and vast, sprawling shopping mall. They were there to witness some of the most tumultuous moments  of our time when blood pressures soared through the roof and plastic cups of beer were sent flying into another city.

Roll forward to early autumn in England and the sense of a shuddering anti climax may have set in. Every farmer, postman, milkman, slick City lawyer, accountant, carpenter, office worker, supermarket shelf stacker and factory hand will now be suffering that weirdly anti climactic sensation that we must have felt when England last reached a World Cup semi final in 1990.

True, on this occasion there weren't any penalty shoot outs nor disconsolate figures such as Stuart Pearce and Chris Waddle to lay the blame on. But there was a very well organised and disciplined Croatia side lying in waiting for Gareth Southgate's England and at the end of an enthralling semi final which went right to the wire England once again trooped off the pitch in Russia much richer for the experience but slightly disappointed. Perhaps they were just relieved to know that they wouldn't have to deal with a rampant, youthfully irrepressible France side who would have probably taken them to the cleaners.

After having the lion's share of the possession in the opening stages and threatening to make a game of it against France Croatia were simply blown away by a rampant French side who became a side possessed, brimming over with  powerful counter attacking, youthful energy and immense skill. It was as if somebody had stolen Croatia's keys to the palace only to find that the palace was a bed and breakfast hotel. From the sublime to ridiculous or so it seemed.

But this is October and England are back on the UEFA Nations League trail. Or is it the European Championship? At some point in the footballing calendar some of us have lost track of where we are. We've now discovered that somebody seems to be tampering with the international footballing diary and this is very confusing. There is still an abiding sense of bewilderment and some of us are not entirely sure whether we've any reason to get fully excited about it.

This is the problem. What is the UEFA Nations League? How to explain quantum physics or the last 500 or so pages of Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace although it was a remarkably entertaining novel if a little on the long side. But what is this UEFA Nations Champions League, this new fangled competition with admittedly a League table to it but nothing to suggest that any of us will  feel any sense of glowing pride even if we do qualify from a group that includes Spain and Croatia.

To the best of my recollection the international football calendar used to consist of European Championship qualifiers or World Cup qualifying campaign at roughly this time. England normally began their international campaign to a new season with a gentle friendly followed by a rigorous schedule of  Euro or World Cup qualifying games.

Now we have the UEFA Nations League, some indecipherable addition to the world footballing merry go round which makes no sense whatsoever or maybe I've missed something along the way. Are we to assume that because England seemed to have led the rest of Europe up  the garden path in that perhaps those in the highest circles of UEFA are determined to inflict some kind of cruel revenge on us for all the mess and inconvenience caused by Brexit.

Have England indeed been relegated from Europe's top table, excommunicated, shoved into the background and condemned to a life in some third class competition that none of us can make head or tail of. And yet it doesn't feel as though England have in any way been rejected or marginalised by the powers to be because we are playing Spain and Croatia and they're still forces to be reckoned with.

Still we mustn't grumble because England have still got Gareth Southgate and that has to be worth three points even before the start of a game. When he first appeared as manager of England many of us would have been forgiven that Southgate had just stepped out of a high street bank or just left a very important function in the City of London.

Southgate of course was the best dressed football manager at the World Cup by a several hundred country miles. He wore this very sartorially striking blue waistcoat that suggested that he'd just inquired how much the mortgage rate was or the prices of property in Kensington. But Southgate looked immaculate, a model of quite modesty, respectability, credibility, street cred, no airs or graces at all and the kind of son every daughter would have been desperate to take home and show to her parents.

And so it was that Southgate transported us to a very special place where even the wildest of optimists thought they'd never tread. They strolled to victory against Tunisia with a businesslike victory, chanced their luck against Colombia before finally cracking that hitherto impenetrable nut known as the penalty shoot out and then pickled the Swedes in a quarter final that almost seemed too good to be true.

Along the way that vast hard core of England's travelling supporters must have privately felt that finally after 52 years of humiliation, rejection, feeling sorry for themselves, self pity perhaps and shame faced degradation it was time to imagine what exactly would have been going through the minds of England supporters who followed their team during 1966.

They'd all suffered through those horribly deflating, disheartening, dispiriting years when the England football team simply fell apart, melted into oblivion, only narrowly missed out on World Cup glory and then just gave up. Maybe England were indeed banging their heads on the proverbial wall in which case they should have been wearing a protective builder's hard hat.

Then, for lengthy periods of their semi final, the ruggedly dependable Eric Dier, the free spirited Delle Ali, the floating, fast, athletic and very resourceful Raheem Sterling tried thrillingly to engineer and carve out some of England's most progressive attacking movements. Occasionally Sterling seemed to collide into a street bollard or stumble awkwardly at a critical moment. Jordan Henderson, who seemed to be criminally overlooked as captain material, was moderately effective when slowing the game down and then measuring his passes across England's midfield columns.

But the man upon whom most of England seemed to become heavily dependent for all of those crucial winning goals almost led his country into uncharted territory. 52 years earlier the nation's hearts were similarly broken upon learning that another Spurs poster boy hero Jimmy Greaves would be injured and therefore not available for the 1966 World Cup Final.

Of course Harry Kane has an indeterminate amount of time to prove himself as one of England's greatest of all centre forwards. Already Kane has smashed the records set  respectively by Bobby Charlton and Gary Lineker but there remains a nagging feeling that Russia 2018 has gone and by the time of Qatar in four years the desert will be a lonely place and besides it'll be far too hot to play anyway. But hey who cares it's only the World Cup and even Montgomery found it tough at  times.

Anyway it's time to get back to brass tacks and time for England to climb their way up the torturous foothills of international football. They may come up against some of the most treacherous rocks and boulders before attempting some giant leap into what they will hope become their very own Promised Land.

Following the England football team in recent years has never been easy and this could be the time for a leisurely re-assessment, repositioning and rapidly changing direction before the Satnav takes us somewhere else. Russia 2018, you feel sure felt like some tropical paradise for a while before England came up against those familiar mangrove swamps where all of those dense jungles can leave you feeling angry and frustrated.

Now though should be the time to once again salute one Gareth Southgate there's only one Gareth Southgate. Southgate was the presentable one, the estimable one, the well mannered one, a polite, proper, chatty, charming and diplomatic football manager always ready with the most well crafted quip. When Southgate went over to the England supporters and punched the air with both fists joyously and exultantly he did it not once but over and over again. It has been a jolly good year for the England football team even if the Jules Rimes Trophy World Cup didn't quite reach its intended destination. It's time to tackle that dreadful maze that is UEFA Nations League. We wish Southgate the very best of wishes.