And so the years of hurt stretch ever longer. Good luck to the little genius that is Lionel Messi and Argentina in the World Cup final. And good luck to Thomas Tuchel trying to explain and justify his defensive, expensive substitutes that cost England dear. He sent on three defenders, Nico O’Reilly, Dan Burn and Ezri Konsa, trying to cling to the lead given to England by Anthony Gordon. The goalscorer made way, removing an outlet down the left, a tireless worker who was troubling Argentina with his pace and stealthy movement.
It was such a gamble. Yes, Reece James was tiring. But Declan Rice and Gordon? Yes, it had worked against Mexico and Norway. But this was Argentina. Tuchel invited them on. England sat deep and attempted to withstand the inevitable siege, the waves of blue-shirted passion players flooding towards them, driven on by their supporters. These are the world champions. This was against Messi, who ranks up with Diego Maradona and Pele as the greatest of all time. Messi wasn’t going to fade quietly into the Georgian night. Messi was going to attack more, to drag his team, his country, back into the game. He did. That’s what the greats do. They don’t give up.
He’s an eight-time Ballon d’Or winner. He’s chasing the Golden Boot and Golden Ball here, and a second World Cup. So he went for England’s exposed jugular. After 85 minutes, Messi cut the ball back to Enzo Fernandez who equalised exuberantly from range. Two minutes into the nine added, Messi again took possession on the right. It was one thing seeing Lautaro Martinez’s movement, and another being able to pick him out. His cross was perfection, flighted over Stones for Martinez to head in, break England hearts and stretch the years of hurt.
It was so frustrating. England fought hard for so long. After all the history lessons, this was about the present, the pressure and the prize. For so long, England stood strong in the teeth of Argentinian aggression and their attacking threat after Gordon’s goal. But that quality told. That pressure told. This was a test of composure, discipline and strength of mind, body and shin-pads. And England thought they had passed it until Tuchel’s moves.
It’s detail – the main detail was that it is Argentina off to New Jersey to face Spain – but it needs recording that Elliot Anderson was immense. He was kicked three times in the opening exchanges and took it as a compliment. Giuliano Simone seemed on a singular mission to celebrate less attractive family traits. Enzo Fernandez clattered Anderson and Jude Bellingham. Nahuel Molina hacked down Bellingham. The inexperienced American referee, Ismail Elfath, let a litany of fouls go before punishing Anderson for a challenge on Messi and Lisandro Martinez for impeding Morgan Rogers.
Bad blood has tainted this famous, often infamous fixture over the past 40 years. From the Azteca to Sapporo via St-Etienne and now here in Atlanta. Fittingly, David Beckham was here, the player who saw World Cup red and redemption. He punched the air as England stood up to be counted for so long. They were streetwise, bold, defiant in a brutal, challenging atmosphere. You couldn’t hear the anthems for the chorus of derision. No wonder FIFA appointed a noted boxing announcer, Michael Buffer, to stoke the atmosphere and introduce two of the heavyweights of this World Cup.
England got ready to rumble. They had to. This was a street fight, and Argentina are masters at it. Tuchel’s battlers went toe to toe with the world champions. No fear. But the first half was scrappy. Ten minutes into the second half, England broke, sweeping into broken Argentinian ranks. Quick thinking, quick movement paid off. Harry Kane laid the ball back to Rice, who sent Morgan Rogers down the right. He looked up and delivered. Rogers imparted enough curl to avoid Lisandro Martinez and injected sufficient pace for the ball to race in front of Emi Martinez. Argentina simply hadn’t spotted Gordon’s move, a break of stealth and speed, arriving in space ahead of the unsuspecting Molina. He judged his stride perfectly, and calmly, confidently steered the ball past Martinez.
Argentina were never going to go quietly. Spence slid in and somehow pickpocketed Simeone. Stones headed clear ahead of Tagliafico. But then came those subs. And then, inevitably, came Messi.
