England are almost there.

 England are almost there. 

After 55 years of huffing and panting, blowing hot and cold and failing at the final hurdle, England reached their second consecutive big tournament semi final. Now, in the grander scheme of things that should be a major cause of rejoicing, ballooms and streamers, rattles and whistles and bells from every corner of England. England should rightly pinch itself today because they're almost there but not quite. Therein lies the most familiar dilemma England are ever likely to encounter since deja vu may just have the capacity to stop us in our tracks even though the French are out and the boulangeries are shut. 

But just for a day or maybe until the semi final against Denmark at Wembley perhaps we should afford ourselves the luxury of patriotic self congratulation. For years and years, decade and decade England have laboured, sweated, toiled, sacrificed and then blown it when all the omens were good. When Sir Alf Ramsey shamefacedly walked off the old Wembley pitch when Poland caught us napping it was his fault. Don Revie was equally as culpable if  only he had the cheek to go off to the desert and avuncular Ron Greenwood was possibly too nice to be an international football manager. This is not though the World Cup.

This is the England of today. It is still the England of whispering streams, rolling rivers, sleepy villages, vicars on bicycles, ravishing meadows, billiard table green fields, warm beer, devout churches on a Sunday morning, Jewish synagogues on a Saturday, jam and marrows at country fetes; secretive nooks and crannies, mysterious forests, sunlit uplands, comfortable post offices next to friendly butchers and, quite possibly, the candlestick makers still plying their trade. England is still that proud nation of tradesmen and women, artisans, thatchers, blacksmiths, long, lingering country lanes and permanently illuminated woodland. 

But football is still regarded with the reverence that the nation thinks fit. Now the England football team finds itself back in the place it would much rather be, poised to achieve what has always seemed the impossible and elusive and yet hoping against hope that it could be their turn. In 1966 it happened because the country was gripped by a cultural frisson and the quiet, repressed manager Sir Alf Ramsey ultimately had at his disposal a happy-go lucky and responsive group of players who genuinely believed they could obey Sir Alf's wishes and win the World Cup for the first time in their history. 

In 1996 another East Ender and Dagenham born Terry Venables bit through his fingernails and guided England through a wild, roller coaster journey that took his England to a European Championship semi final against Germany. Gareth Southgate, now the England coach and manager, missed the crucial penalty that would have ensured their first Euro Final against the Czech Republic. This time though England are on the verge of  another exciting date in our diary.

Last night in the Roman amphitheatre of the Stadio Olympico, where once Glen Hoddle's England bravely held the Italians to a goal-less draw and rubber stamped their place in the 1998 World Cup, today's England inched closer to its first major achievement since Sir Alf's boys stopped the world in 1966, Bobby Moore wiped his hands on a purple cloth to receive the World Cup trophy and all was hunky dory, an afternoon to remember on an iconic day.

Gareth Southgate, now bearded and vastly respected by both his players, fans and everybody who cares so deeply about the game's semantics and grammar. looked on wisely. Throughout this tournament Southgate has conducted himself with a dignity, grace and self deprecating modesty that has endeared to him to every single footballing student. Shortly after England had confirmed their semi final place against Denmark, Southgate was all smooth diplomacy and admirable humility. 

For Southgate England's 4-0 demolition of an admittedly exhausted Ukraine, couldn't have gone any better than it did. The moon was in the right position, the Trevi Fountain seemed to be gleaming in the summer sunshine and the Colosseum looked just appropriately historic. Southgate now looks like the smartest man ever to be invited to a royal banquet; suited, booted, tie in place and just very humble. 

Thus far England have crept stealthily into Euro 2020 like a very discreet Santa Claus on his way down the chimney. At times the voyage has been ever slightly choppy, turbulent and fraught with potential problems. Following the England team has never been an easy watch particularly when all the bushes get tangled and important players hobble off with long term injury. They confidently marched past Croatia, got stuck in heavy traffic against Scotland and narrowly edged their way past a Czech Republic that became increasingly impressive as the match progressed. 

Then England bumped into their nemesis from years gone by. The black shirts of Germany had muddled out of their group and somehow knew England would be waiting for them. But when Jack Grealish, Luke Shaw and Raheem Sterling threw down the attacking gauntlet the Germans adopted a bunker mentality and withdrew into their shell. The white shirts of England pulled and stretched the Germans from pillar to post and Sterling's gleeful close range tap in was followed by Harry Kane's crowning glory, the stooping header that flew past a helpless German keeper. 

Yesterday evening England just swamped and overwhelmed Ukraine with four goals of typical English quality. There are times when you know that England have only to turn up to matches such as these and underline their supremacy. From the first whistle, England opened up Ukraine like the traditional birthday present, playing with their opponents, taunting their opposition and then leading them up the garden path. At times Ukraine must have thought they'd just stepped into the Chamber of Horrors. 

This was an England side masquerading as the Brazilians of 1970 World Cup vintage, the Germany and France of recent World Cups and just a seasoning of Argentina in the 1978 World Cup. Their passing was mesmeric and breath taking, eye poppingly enchanting, a model of correctness and propriety, one touch, two touch, spinning and whirling around the pitch like a child's toy. This was kaleidoscopic, three dimensional football, a tap dancer's delight, a team totally at ease with itself. 

Forty years ago some of us were convinced that England would just disappear into a primitive land of long ball frumpiness, pointless passes into no man's land and just lost in a crumpled heap of ugliness. But then Ron Greenwood, the former West Ham manager knocked some common sense and innovative thinking into his England teams and although the national side still came up short, the football had the taste of champagne about it. 

With the arrival of Gareth Southgate, the purity of his team's football, all of its decorative simplicity and  highly valued principles are now the foundation that underpins England's success. Southgate has re-introduced his players to the simple pleasures of passing, the collective team ethic, and a heightened awareness of where they may be going. This is an England of youthful dash and flair, keeping the ball and then speeding up the game with decisive movement and clinical finishing. 

Not for the first time the likes of Harry Maguire was seen carrying the ball out of his defence with the knowledge that his colleagues would be there to accept the responsibility immediately. John Stones seemed to be accompanying Maguire on his travels, stepping forward carefully and calculatingly, nudging passes into space and then judging which way to go. Luke Shaw was simply outstanding at full back, clear in his thinking while Kyle Walker just scurries down the flank like a man who may never be passed. 

With Declan Rice maturing handsomely as the defensive shield who just fed his midfielders with a diet of short passes, England were an exotic revelation, doing the kind of things that would never have been imagined under managers with more realistic ambitions. Kalvin Phillips, the Leeds hod carrier, had class and the most exquisite touches, while man of the tournament Raheem Sterling left most of his defenders in a complete state of stunned astonishment and apoplectic with fear every time he ran at them. 

And so for England's four winning goals. With only minutes gone Sterling danced and darted, rolling his hips, wrong footing his defender before slipping the ball through to Harry Kane who had pulled away from his opponent. Kane latched onto Sterling's through ball and gently toe poked his shot past the Ukranian goal keeper. 

Surprisingly it took England an eternity to add to their lead. Minutes into the second half after another co-ordinated series of snappy, quickfire passing, England were awarded a free kick way out on the touchline. The ball was impeccably flighted into the heart of the Ukranian penalty area and Maguire, finding a lovely pocket of space, soared above everybody else and powerfully headed home the second. 

By now Ukraine were traumatised, demoralised, drained and completely clueless. The stunning combination of  Shaw, Kane and Sterling conspired to produce England's third goal, a European masterpiece at this most Euro themed of all football tournaments. Shaw, linking up perceptively with the rest of his team, nipped behind a yellow Ukranian back line and chipped a measured ball to Harry Kane who headed home fiercely downwards into the net for the third. 

And then just to rub salt into a painful Ukranian wound, England wrapped up proceedings and Ukrainian heads began to drop to their feet. A corner swung over at pace landed on the head of Jordan Henderson who had just come on as a substitute and the suave Liverpool playmaker nodded the ball across the goal and into the opposite corner of the net. 

For the next 10 to 15 minutes and quite certainly last five minutes of an almost outrageously one sided game, Ukrania were quite content to sit on the half way line, frozen with immobility. There was a comical moment when a yellow circle of Ukranian players stood like statues gasping with admiration at their technical superiors. 

This was not the way we had thought things would pan out for England. We thought Ukraine would be organised, stubborn, uncompromising, a right pain in the neck. But in the end this was a logical walk in the park, uncomplicated, over in a matter of minutes and beyond any practical recovery for the Ukraine. You were reminded for a moment of England's 6-0 destruction of Panama three years ago in the World Cup of Russia. This though felt different but nonetheless satisfying.

So England march onto their first Euro semi final for 25 years and suddenly it's all beginning to fall into place for the national side. Denmark await England and you sense that the Danes are lost in some emotional time warp after their leader Christian Erikssen collapsed on the pitch in their first group game against Finland.

If England can negotiate their Danish opponents challenge then the nation may find themselves at a summit meeting they may be looking forward to but privately fear. Spain and Italy have got some extensive history for England. Spain will be desperate for revenge after their Euro 96 exit in one of those now typical penalty shoot outs.

 Stuart Pearce's contorted face told its own story. Take that D'Artagnan! Italy of course are of course just hilariously temperamental at times. You suspect that if England do meet Italy in the Final we could be at Wembley for some time. Italy have been a joy to behold in Euro 2020 but you suspect that they'll soon be dragging a huge set of keys if only to lock up their defence. Wembley must be licking its lips in anticipation. It could be the best of footballing times.