Benefit of World Cup victory in 1966 was minimal and however good Euro 2020 has been, what will be left after it?
A curious and strangely moving sight presented itself outside Wembley stadium in the early hours of Thursday morning. England’s semi-final against Denmark had been over for more than two hours; the players had completed their press duties; the bulk of the crowds had already dispersed to the underground station and the car parks.
And yet for all this, many had stayed. Perhaps several hundred at least, some drinking, some smoking, some chatting with friends. Quite a few, however, were simply staring: gazing reverently up at the illuminated arch as if transfixed by its beauty, unable to avert their gaze, still somehow magnetised by this stadium and the spectacle it had just contained, as if possessed by a quiet religion. As if the moment they walked away, all this would end.
On the face of things, this seems a bit silly. In fact, apply just a modicum of perspective and it all begins to feel a bit silly: the flying pints, the painted faces, the sudden resurrection of Atomic Kitten as a cultural force, the endless viral videos of grown men and women hurling themselves across beer gardens in celebration of a Denmark own goal, people climbing on buses and lampposts, people falling down things, people shouting things.
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