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A kind Butterflies flap their wings in the sky above London, the weakest pulse of air whizzes around the magnificent white Wembley Arch, and the luck of 436 feet below England is about to run out. The atmosphere fluctuated and gasped with the heavy breathing of 66,000 fans. The ball will soon leave Bukayo Saka’s feet, and at that moment, everything else seems irrelevant.
These brave and talented boys have fascinated the country, and it doesn’t matter.
This country hasn’t seen such a day for 55 years. No one knows when the next one will come. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you have a 33% possession rate and a 14-4 shot. In fact, most of the details of this game will be forgotten by history. The final is a bit like this: the process and the journey and the point where a percentage point is no longer important.
Maybe once everyone has seen the movie, it is easy to direct the movie. But from the moment Luke Shaw’s flying boots gave England the lead, it became clear what kind of game is needed here: a game in which they grow rather than shrink, a game in which they try to reach a climax rather than a trough. On the contrary, facing one-goal lead, some of the best offensive players in Europe and the world, England played a percentage in a game where only one number matters.
These are the edges that separate England from glory: in many ways, this fate is not destined when Saka, Marcus Rashford and Jaden Sancho missed penalties, but from their decision to pay back the game. From the moment there are 80 minutes left, when they try to resolve rather than pass the finals. In doing so, they are essentially trying to cover a game that is too unstable to cover; controlling an occasion that has long succumbed to madness.
This madness has always existed, even if England did its best to stop it last month. Maybe they will miss the police horses and helicopters outside, reports of rushing into the fence in droves, and viral photos of various fat men undressing in front of a cheering crowd. But all of them will have a moment. The moment they felt the fever and turmoil of the whole country: a country walking a tightrope between ecstasy and panic, a country swinging limbs and a fast heartbeat.
How can you master such a big event? But how can you avoid it? Maybe you do this by putting your heart and soul into your work.
Remind yourself to plan. Five people in the backcourt, close to the body, control the space, even if you can’t control the ball. Or, you can swing all the way in the national anthem, twist the ball straight onto the court and score 116 seconds later.
To some extent, Shaw’s goal is completely consistent with the madness outside, a goal of 4 pints before 11 a.m., a goal that climbs on the bus station and wears a seat belt, similar to Sweet-Caroline’s. the goal. The surge of endorphins is instantaneous and devastating, which is unique on earth.
However, this exemplary response only introduces a new kind of madness: the madness of power. In this madness, the finals are suddenly controlled by you. What your possessed body wants to do is to be like the last on earth. Tear like five minutes.
The frightened Italian looks like a team that has never seen a full-back. Sometimes they look like a team that has never played on a full-size court. But at the end of halftime, something strange happened. The England team did not break the game publicly. They don’t even have a real chance. Italy Have managed to camp in the English half without really doing much. My mood has changed a bit.
Italy continued to linger at the door. Lorenzo Insigne and Federico Chiesa both shot low. The central defender threatened to advance 10 yards on the court. Jorginho started to control the game like a doorknob. With 23 minutes left, Marco Villati snatched the ball from Mason Mount, Leo Bonucci took the lead, and the game broke up again. England tried to tame madness, and madness tame them.
In overtime, they will try to lift it again. The crowd sent them out a wall of pure noise in the last 15 minutes, pure adrenaline, pure desire.
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But they are too tired now, too shapeless, and too dry. The match lasted for 120 minutes and referee Björn Kuipers pushed them to their craziest state.
So what now? “Those moments in your life don’t have to define you,” Gareth Southgate said of his 1996 penalty kick. He was right. The England team won the game, closer than any predecessor, and loyal to themselves. It is no comfort to be proud of this.
At the same time, you suspect that everyone will try to attach their own meaning to this failure. For some people, it will be about vague memories; for some ancient English thinking disorders; for some people, these proud young people and their smart and kind coaches briefly illuminate the big and numb Country and force it to dream bigger. A moment like this cannot be reduced to a story.England Euro 2020 It has always been a source of happiness, even in sadness, everyone still has room to drink.
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