England and USA in goal-less stalemate but Brazil in rudest health.

 England and USA in goal-less stalemate but Brazil in rudest health

Football has an almost innate capacity for catching us unawares where the most extraordinary shocks and surprises may seem almost inevitable. In the first week of the men's World Cup in Qatar 2022 we have already seen the downfall of multiple World champions Germany by Japan and even Peter O'Toole would have been entitled to a private giggle had he known about the defeat by Argentina at the hands of Saudi Arabia. Oh for the thoughts of Lawrence of Arabia on such pressing issues.

 A couple of days before that epic tale of the unexpected, Argentina, also prolific winners of the World Cup were summarily toppled from their perch by a Saudi Arabia side who hadn't travelled that far to peel away the layers of an Argentina team who themselves had once been beaten by Cameroon in Italia 1990 on day one. Now the law of the averages always insist that at least one or two global footballing giants will fall from grace. But two in one week does seem to be pushing it. There is a sense that the conventional is about to be replaced by the unorthodox at this World Cup since none of us can see where this World Cup is heading.

You could have been forgiven for thinking that England were just sleep walking into a place in the knock out round of this tournament. Yesterday England were so wretchedly bad and awful against the USA that you were almost relieved to find that little long term damage had been done. It could have been a whole lot worse but not much so. By the final whistle of this stultifyingly boring game, England manager Gareth Southgate must have looked to the heavens and blown out his cheeks. Qualification to the knock out round may be a formality given that a 4-0 win for Wales against England in the final group tie, seems highly unlikely. Still, stranger things have been known.

In their 6-2 thumping of Iran, England had revealed all of their peacock plumage, a team thoroughly well organised, oozing electrifying athleticism, imaginative ideals, a commendable ideology, lithe and supple movement, feline flexibility and classical finishing. After a brief period of feeling their way into the game with sharp, staccato passing between the lines, England sent all of the Iranian skittles tumbling. A lovely brace from Bukayo Saka, the second a shot of exquisite placement and power, a Raheem Sterling guided missile into the net, simple goals from the ever alert and ingenious Marcus Rashford accompanied by an even more straightforward tap in from Jack Grealish completed a royal command England display.

But last night ITV viewers were subjected to a teeth pulling, mind numbing England that looked as if it had recalled South Africa 2010. Then Algeria stifled Fabio Capello's England with the type of football that should have been locked in a cupboard and never released into the open. At the end of that game Wayne Rooney, wild eyed with righteous indignation, declared that he had never been so ashamed of the England supporters. True England had been distinctly underwhelming and just tedious in the extreme but this was the final straw. 72 years ago of course Billy Wright's England fell appallingly to a sensational 1-0 defeat against USA in Belo Horizonte.

In theory, the defensive pillars and columns erected by the stern and unforgiving Harry Macguire, the resolute and rugged John Stones, the capable and competent Kieran Trippier and the always forward thinking and venturesome Luke Shaw seemed to have things under control for England. But Gareth Southgate's battle hardened English troops were then startled rabbits in the headlights. The Americans, now seemingly buoyed by a knowledge that anything could happen, flooded forward impressively, pinning back England back into their own half where that territory should have been encroached upon at frequent intervals by an England side still licking their lips after the Iran goal fest.

When Chelsea's Christian Pulisic thundered his shot against the bar midway through the first half, the Americans must have thought pleasantly back to Larry Gaetjens who had scored the only goal to beat England in Brazil 1950. Then the selection committee including Walter Winterbottom were clearly too arrogant and presumptuous for their own liking and the American dream became a shining reality.

But this was no stroll in Central Park for England, more like General Custer's last stand, a meeting of great minds thinking alike and much more so for the Americans.The country that had given us vast  condominiums, soaring skyscrapers and corporate, high tech companies worth billions of dollars, had now reduced the England football team to a subdued whisper. The blue shirts were more than adept in keeping possession of the ball and were not nearly as naive as some might have thought. Now their football had shape, symmetry, fluent patterns, gentle and audacious flicks and tricks. Unfortunately the USA of yesterday hadn't quite the decisive cutting edge but it wasn't for the want of trying.

 Declan Rice was still a hugely influential shield in front of England's back four, tidying efficiently and passing the ball with consummate ease. But then Rice discovered that the likes of Raheem Sterling, Bukayo Saka, Mason Mount and Harry Kane were singularly failing to respond to the always vocal encouragement of the England fans. The ball was quite awkwardly sticking, losing its way, bogged down in treacly feet, all very painfully pedestrian and just not going anywhere. The footballing satnav had now told Gareth Southgate's team they were heading for hard shoulders rather than smooth freeways.

At times it looked as if Arsenal's Saka was about to lead the Americans a merry dance, creating havoc , tricking his way past defenders as if they simply weren't there. Then Saka tried to find Kane and Kane tried to look for Mount and before you knew it, the ball was in some desolate wasteland. Just before half time England almost opened the scoring when Luke Shaw smuggled his way past an American defender and slipped the ball excitingly into the path of the Arsenal youngster but Saka met head on with the ball and couldn't really find any direction or accuracy in the snap shot.

For the entire second half England reminded you of labourers on a building site, hod carriers with tons of cement and bricks. It was very much toil and drudgery, sweat and hard graft, the application of some kind of science but little in the way of real invention. By the half hour England looked leggy and quite possibly exhausted, rather like a group of tourists searching for the right museum, cinema or restaurant. It was all very anodyne, huff and puff, laborious and shapeless, valid descriptions on the night but not nearly good enough if England are to make concrete progress in the Qatar World Cup of 2022.

By now England were leaden footed, neither here or there, yearning for the final whistle and perhaps dwelling on their own obvious shortcomings. This had not been the night we'd anticipated. For a moment our minds wandered back to England's second group match of Euro 2020 when Scotland had barricaded themselves firmly in their own half and refused to come out of their shell. The goal-less draw that followed could have been foreseen at the beginning of the second half. But now of course  circumstances, although markedly different, still had the same aura about them. True there were no cones with sand bags draped over them, but there was a huge tailback and the road was jam solid with traffic.

Meanwhile back in the Brazilian camp, the five team winners of the Jules Rimet World Cup and majestic standard bearers of the Beautiful Game were re-enacting the Mexico World Cup of 1970. Indeed, the progenitors of the game that we've always come to appreciate and embrace re-discovered their former identity, the game they'd given to the world, pure and unblemished, always breathtaking, beyond classification and still holding the flame of creativity wherever they go.

Their 2-0 opening victory against Serbia was quintessential Brazilian, fundamentally Brazilian, stereotypically Brazil, a side of wily whimsicality, ingenuity, an abundance of flair, lorry loads of the stuff, improvising at will, extemporising on the spot, off the cuff at any given moment. When Brazil won the World Cup in Mexico 52 years ago some of us thought we'd never see its like again. The Brazil of Gerson, Tostao, Pele and Rivelino belonged on another footballing planet.  One of the four goals in a one sided victory in the World Cup Final will probably never matched for its completeness, its sumptuousness, its effortless stamp of class. Six, seven or eight passes into its construction, Carlos Roberto came steaming up from defence and lashed an unstoppable shot past the Italian goalkeeper.

None of us are crystal ball gazers but the bookies would be well advised to hold onto Brazil as overwhelming favourites for another yet World Cup trophy for what would be their sixth. England of course have their own psychological obstacles to negotiate and look as far from the finished article as ever before. The wishful thinkers in the heart of England are probably dreaming of a Christmas they may come to fantasise about.

Oh, for an open top bus parade along Oxford Street to welcome home England as world champions. It may well happen but the probability is that it won't. And yet the sight of Gareth Southgate and Harry Kane celebrating as white bearded gentlemen called Santa Claus is so very appealing. Maybe the stars are aligned this year so hold onto your festive fare. It could yet be a Christmas and Chanukah to remember. We can but hope.