England women lose out to USA in the World Cup semi final.

England women lose out to USA in the World Cup semi final.

It had to happen. Of course it did. We always knew it would because it always does - eventually. The default position for all England football teams regardless of gender, came back to haunt them and in the end we were all crying into our evening tea pondering ruefully on the woeful misfortunes of an England team somehow destined to falter at the final hurdle.

 But why do we always get so tantalisingly close and yet so far? Is there something in the water perhaps? Has it got something to do with simple stage fright or possibly some psychological barrier that gets in England's way just when looks as if we've finally got it right? The truth is that semi final syndrome has once again caught us off guard. Just when we thought we'd cracked the code.

Last night the ladies of the England football World Cup played their heart out and gave us those cliched blood, sweat and tears. They could have hardly tried any harder since England football teams have always done gallantry and heroism with a gentle swagger. But last night the England women of the international footballing community were beaten by USA, which would have sounded hugely embarrassing had the men been involved in a similar scenario. Besides, one World Cup defeat for the men in 1950 against the Americans is quite enough to bear although time is, inevitably, the greatest healer.

Sadly, this was the English ladies third successive World Cup semi final defeat and just to rub salt into the wound the girls seemed to have caught the men's debilitating bug. When captain Steph Houghton missed that vital penalty which would have ensured parity for England against the USA, a hollow feeling of defeat and resignation seemed to hang over the England team like the darkest cloud. There was no way back from that critical point and the Americans were convinced that this would be their night of nights.

For the best part of an hour or so the England girls had looked reasonably convincing without ever hurting their opponents when it really mattered. Their passes were neat, firm, forthright, full of pin point accuracy with decorative cameos that slid across the pitch fluently and tidily. Their attacking movements were both graceful and tender, softly humming from one white shirt to the next as if they'd planned it this way for ages. Slowly but surely their approach play from the back reminded you of their male counterparts who did so much to copy the passing template that the Germans, French and Spanish had so originally pioneered. World Cups are different though.

Unfortunately though the English girls lively passing patterns began to lose their thread and players who had once believed that this could be their year to actually reach a World Cup Final found themselves in some delusional forest where everywhere was thick bushes, dangerous wasteland and tangled knots. England became slovenly, sloppy, dishevelled, horribly naive at times and quite obviously lacking the big match temperament, finesse and physical power of the present World Champions.

The immensely skilful Nikita Parris, who had dribbled her way so attractively past flailing American feet had now been cancelled out by an American side who had so successfully nullified the Parris drop of the shoulder, the nimble footwork as well as her thrilling acceleration. Both Jill Scott and Beth Mead were beginning to slice through the American defence with all the ease of  ice skaters gliding effortlessly on the rink. Millie Bright was a continuous threat, pushing and probing forward with admirable frequency, a forceful and a genuine nuisance. Then there was the ever willing and whole hearted Lucy Bronze, powerful and persistent at all times. It was not to be though.

And yet it all seemed to count for nothing. The women's answer to Harry Kane was Ellen White who had beautifully glanced home England's equaliser after another excellent cross. For a while it felt at times as if White was determined to help herself to as many as goals. After White had had  a goal disallowed by VAR after the prettiest of build ups from England, England had perhaps felt all of their meticulous planning and attention to detail had been undone by a technically superior American side.

From a superbly weighted diagonal ball across the back of the English penalty area, a high, hanging cross was headed powerfully home by Christen Press for the American's opening goal. Once again the USA hunted in packs, stitching and embroidering their football with some of the most imaginative passing ever seen on an international women's football pitch. The Americans were sharper to the ball, even hungrier to win the ball back when not in possession and generally more streetwise than the English.

No sooner than England had equalised than the Americans had broken forward once again at speed and with some vigour. There was a much greater clarity and polish to the World Champions game and although there was an element of raw directness and aggression to their play we knew that England would have to look back on the occasion as another missed opportunity. Following a marvellously perceptive crossfield ball, another nicely delivered cross saw Alex Morgan nip beyond the last English defender and head the ball decisively past England keeper Carly Telford.

As Morgan ran away to celebrate her goal, she was seen to be mocking the very English tea drinking gesture. It almost seemed like the ultimate insult but this had not been a night for English manners or English propriety. Manager Phil Neville, once of Manchester United and Everton had instilled all the right habits and mannerisms into the England women's team and tea seemed a poor consolation.

One day, one year either the men or women will discover that this whole business of actually winning a World Cup or a European Championship is, quite simply, a piece of cake. For now we can only comfort ourselves with the knowledge that even the Germans and French had missed out this time. Never mind, maybe next time.