Thomas Tuchel has drained England’s soul

Conscious that this was their last match on home soil before the World Cup, they summoned a send-off as pedestrian as it was passionless. You will be familiar with the rhythms of a somnolent Wembley by now: the limp paper aeroplanes, the tragicomic tooting to The Great Escape, the longing for a late starring role for Harry Maguire’s forehead. But here there was just a mass muted sigh, with the only sense of communion to be found in the weary dash to the Metropolitan Line.

Those tiring of such thin gruel no longer even have the satisfaction of blaming Gareth Southgate. While Tuchel is the man entrusted with quickening the nation’s pulse, he is so far succeeding in only draining its soul. He has often been crotchety about the Wembley crowd, rebuking them for being “silent” during a win over Wales before griping last week about their temerity in booing Ben White. But at this rate he will have few causes for complaint, with fans’ restive mood justified by the selection of teams with no resemblance to the likely World Cup line-up, and tactics that extend little beyond passing the ball sideways and backwards. For Mitoma and Keito Nakamura, representing their nation under the Wembley arch brought a palpable surge of pride. For England, it was just a bothersome bump in the road.

You hesitate, on this evidence, to imagine some fairytale in New York this summer. A last-16 clash with co-hosts Mexico at the Azteca Stadium? A quarter-final against Brazil in the sapping humidity of Miami? The draw is already nightmarish, but even the faintest stirrings of hope are quelled by football as torpid as this. Cole Palmer might enjoy trading on his too-cool-for-school insouciance, but he just ended up looking foolish when he casually lost possession to Mitoma en route to the game’s only goal.

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