No, it wasn’t a goal. But at least a very near miss. Surely it was a fluke? But then it continued. This England team were attacking, passing a ball and looking like they had come with a purpose. However, the Italians know this passing game too well to be overawed by young pups giving it a good go. My Italian friends said their team were ‘troppo macchinosi’, too intricate, not direct enough. Isn’t that how the Italians play? I asked. For England who traditionally struggle to keep possession, this type of play seems like a miracle to us. Maybe not high speed end-to-end action, but enviable and impressive nevertheless.

Italians become more Italian when watching the football. I thought I was depressive watching England play, but this is something else. Why make one comment when you can repeat it, each time more loudly to whoever has the misfortune to be listening. The manager has organised the team badly, the formation is all wrong, the defence is weak, they are too slow, they gave England too much space, Balotelli as the lone striker has no support and is lazy, he is arrogant and they didn’t like his hair. A man of extremes, Balotelli is not universally liked. Except when he is. There were an array of people wearing his shirt and as many who were extremely critical. But then he scored and all was suddenly forgotten.