Could England’s Men’s Style of Play Reflect English Culture More Than We Realise?

It’s been a week since the end of the World Cup and I find myself replaying England’s third-place match and their second half against Croatia. The style of play was so dissimilar to what I’ve come to expect from England that they stuck out like sore thumbs – but that’s exactly why I can’t stop thinking about them!

So, before I say anything further, I should probably admit that I’ve only been following football for about five years, after the heartbreak of the 2021 Men’s Euro final. I don’t have decades of tactical football knowledge to draw on, so in some ways I still watch it as an outsider. But it was the camaraderie and brotherhood within the team, alongside the hope and pride that seemed to grow across the tournament (before it all became sour and racist – that’s a whole other write-up), that drew me into becoming an England football fan…ish.

England men’s football fans demonstrate what I’d describe as pessimistic optimism, which I find fascinating. Every tournament seems to begin with genuine hope – It’s coming home (unfounded perhaps?). Yet beneath that hope is the feeling that it probably won’t. Or, if it does, it’ll be because we somehow “cling on” or “manage to get it over the line”. Rarely does it feel like the expectation is that we’ll dominate, control the game, or simply be the better team.

So…it’s not complete cynicism. We do hope, and I think we do believe. But perhaps, somewhere underneath, we also expect disappointment. Almost as though expecting too much might somehow tempt fate. Having lived and worked in the UK for over a decade now, this feels quite familiar. 

The relationship with being praised or celebrated feels yucky. A ‘win’ gets minimised before the sentence describing it is finished. A compliment gets deflected rather than let in. There seems to be a recognisable discomfort with acknowledging or owning the ‘good’ things. Kate Fox writes about this in Watching the English; don’t be too big, don’t be too good, don’t take yourself too seriously.

While this might not be unique to England, as I’ve watched the men’s football team over the past five years, and more closely over the past month, I couldn’t help but wonder whether their style of play sometimes reflects bigger and perhaps more deeply embedded social patterns.

We take the lead – in other words, we put ourselves out there – then we seem to make ourselves small again.

We retreat.

We drop deeper.

We add bodies behind the ball (which doesn’t always work).

We stop playing with the same freedom that got us into the lead in the first place.

Now, this is where my ignorance might show. That style of play may simply be tactical and there may be very good reasons why teams defend a one-goal lead. If that’s the case, then my bad… forget this whole thing. 

However, every day I sit with people who struggle to validate themselves and recognise their own successes. Their promotion was “luck” or simply being in the right place at the right time, rather than their years of hard work. Or, more commonly, they receive a compliment and instinctively hand it back because accepting it feels too uncomfortable or “awkward”. 

In cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) we sometimes conceptualise these patterns as minimising or discounting the positive. Positive things happen, but they don’t quite sink in. Instead of allowing success to reshape the way we see ourselves, we filter it, explain it away or quickly move on to the next thing.

The trouble is, over time, this isn’t just an unhelpful habit; it starts to impact how we experience ourselves. If every success is dismissed as luck and every achievement comes with an explanation for why it’s not that big a deal, then your confidence has very little substance to grow from. These patterns are often seen in people experiencing depression and/or low self-esteem, because no matter how much positive evidence life presents to them, none of it is ever accepted – there’s no evidence or opportunity to challenge underlying beliefs like “I’m not good enough”. Eventually, it becomes automatic – your default. You don’t consciously choose to minimise yourself; you simply do. You become so rehearsed at filtering out positives that you stop being able to acknowledge them or notice that you’re minimising or discounting them. 

So, watching the England team at the World Cup made me think of this. Had they unknowingly internalised a way of life and, perhaps, a way of playing, where despite not consciously thinking, “We don’t deserve to be winning”, that was what was happening? They score, and instead of looking like a team whose confidence grew from taking the lead, they become more cautious (perhaps unconsciously not wanting to seem cocky?). It’s just a thought…maybe it’s quite a jump. 

Because how can your best World Cup finish in 60 years still somehow not be good enough to celebrate?!

Beckham. Gerrard. Terry. Cole. Lampard. Rooney. None of England’s “golden generation” achieved what this team has. Norway reached the quarterfinals and returned home to crowds lining the streets. But our bronze medal winning team quietly fly back into Birmingham?!

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that high performance means having very high standards and expectations. If your hope is to win the World Cup, then of course finishing third is going to feel disappointing. Perhaps that’s because, even though we make ourselves small, part of us never stopped believing we could go all the way. But the disappointment of not winning the World Cup doesn’t erase what has been achieved. Recognising that isn’t a pity party; it’s simply acknowledging what’s true.

If the story we keep telling ourselves after achievement is only ever about what didn’t happen – our falling short – I wonder what that costs us over a lifetime, not just a tournament. I often invite this kind of reflection in my work with clients. 

Patterns of minimising, discounting the positive, and quietly retreating from your own success are more common than we realise. If it sounds like you, I’d like to help. Get in touch.

Dr Marvin Blake is a Counselling Psychologist and Osteopath based in London, working across the physical and psychological health.