It's Game On!

So, after all the speculation, England have finally played their first game since the World Cup. What have we really learned from the experience? Well, if we're honest, not a lot.

Let's examine the evidence. Watching the enthusiasm and bravado of our players in the first half was more of a reminder that schoolchildren will be starting their new school year in a matter of weeks; full of good intentions, fresh haircuts and squeaky new shoes, more so than any statement that we had turned over a new leaf in terms of our international approach. But, as we feared, normal service was resumed after the break, the sleepy defence was outwitted by a neatly executed give-and-go that led to a well-deserved lead for Hungary; did it cross the line, who cares? They should NEVER have got that far up the pitch in truth! With Rooney's withdrawal came boos, but more akin to an afternoon at the Pantomine than real venom. But Steven Gerrard became our Principal boy of the tale and summoned an extra gear to take the game by the proverbial scruff of the neck; score a screamer and a then create a strong candidate for 'Goal of The Season' and salvage occasion.

Well? We always knew that regardless of the outcome of the World Cup, new players would get their opportunity; and they were duly given their chance on the improved Wembley pitch. Proper football followers did not need not be reminded that Steven Gerrard could win games single-handedly, we expected to marvel at the twists and turns of Adam Johnson and Ashley Young down the flanks and they did not disappoint, and Rooney can still look sluggish in front of goal only to re-emerge days later looking as fresh as a daisy and fitter than a butchers dog! But alas, after all the conjecture about stay away punters, 70,000 spectators did what you'd expect, they rallied behind the team, and created a great atmosphere.

What really IS different is Fabio Capello. He is no fool and although he and we know that £6 million-a-year is nice work if you get it, he also knows his reputation has been torn to shreds. The English love a good Pantomine and there is no bigger one than the England football team; for yesterday was no more, in truth, than a public relations exercise with Hungary, a proud nation of nostalgic dreamers ranked 62nd in the world, inserted as cannon fodder for the night. Much has been made of his stony faced reaction to Gerrard's goals, but Capello understands context. Last night's events will have no reminiscent value when the real business of tournament football commences in June 2012; once we qualify, and that is when he will be judged, damned, berated or given the freedom of all that is English and the obligatory rule change to give him the knighthood. Good honest football men before him like Bobby Robson, Kevin Keegan, Graham Taylor, and Steve McClaren have walked that murky plank in search of the Fools Gold that follows success in this job. What we learned last night is that during the summer, as he has been sipping his favoured Italian claret in silent contemplation awaiting the resumption with the poison chalice that is the England job, his taste buds are ready!