It was the 68th minute when Jarrod Bowen and Anthony Gordon trotted down the steps, stripped and ready to come on. As they waited on the touchline, Thomas Tuchel leaned conspiratorially close, imparting crucial last-minute tactical instructions. You, go left. You, attack this half-space. You, spin him around the diagonal. You, watch for the trapezium pass. Or whatever. I don’t really understand a lot of the jargon they use these days.
Meanwhile Bowen and Gordon listened intently, waiting for the break in play. And waited. And kept waiting. The clock ticked over to 69, 70, 71 minutes. Tuchel was still delivering little tactical messages. You, show him the roses. You, click-clack, flip-flap, bing-bong. You, always on the shoulder blade, always perceiving. On the field, England were still patiently passing the ball around, not out of any particular urgency or desire but just because it seemed to feel quite nice.
