Cast your mind back to another time, when the world was a very different place. Specifically, Sunday teatime 12 days ago.
It was less than a week before the general election, and there were just 86 seconds remaining in England’s game against Slovakia in the last 16 of the European Championships. England were 1-0 down, and seemingly out of the tournament, heading back in ignominy to a country in political limbo. A depression hung over the nation, in more ways than one.
We all know what happened next. Jude Bellingham’s acrobatic goal kept England in the Euros, Labour won a landslide victory, and now, less than a fortnight later, the national team has, remarkably, made it through to the final.
Our Prime Minister is there in the Oval Office of the White House, joking with the American President about how England have not lost a match under his administration. Sir Keir is asked: Is it coming home, Prime Minister? “It looks like it,” he replied. The sun is shining again.
There was no need for the PM to acknowledge the sliding doors nature of recent events. What if the spirited Slovakians had managed to hold on to their lead for little more than a minute longer? What if Bellingham had miscued his bicycle kick? What if the bounce of the ball had been less fortunate?
The retribution for Gareth Southgate and his (then) overpaid, overrated, under-delivering bunch of players would have been swift and remorseless.
At the previous Euros in 2021 Southgate had been lauded by the pundit Gary Neville as “everything a leader should be: respectful, humble, he tells the truth”. But, as England struggled through the group stages and then against Slovakia, Southgate was heavily criticised (by Neville most stridently, but also by a cacophony of voices on the nation’s phone-ins) for his lack of imagination, his intractability and his conservatism.
Had Bellingham not come to the rescue, Southgate would surely have been relieved of duties, but now, should things go well on Sunday, he is in line to become Sir Gareth. Such are the fine margins on which history is written. And never has there been a better example of Kipling’s advice to treat defeat and victory like the twin impostors they are.
Southgate is back to being “everything a leader should be” again, and I would now add modesty and integrity to his list of qualities: he has been calm and measured in the face of criticism, realistic about the challenges he’s faced and resistant to over-exuberance at a time of victory.
In that, he is not dissimilar to Starmer, who has been careful to avoid triumphalism in the wake of his historic success, and, like Southgate, appears to have the studied equanimity of public figures from another age.
In our low-attention, quick-to-judgement world, this is too often characterised as boring, but it may be precisely what is needed from today’s leaders. And Southgate in particular possesses the most important asset of all: good luck.
Whether it’s through last-gasp goals, a penalty shoot-out, or by taking advantage of questionable refereeing decisions, England find themselves still standing, and their manager seems fully to appreciate how easily this could have been different.
It is the recognition of the part luck plays in success that enables its author to be humble and effective. If you can’t be good, be lucky, as the saying goes.
On the flip of a coin, history is written and rewritten. And we have seen this enacted in front of our eyes these past two weeks or so. Whatever happens on Sunday, there is a life lesson for us all in the unravelling of the Euros of 2024.
That there is a wafer thin difference between disaster and triumph, and often it is neither someone’s fault nor another’s design which way the penny falls. We would do well to remember that come 10pm on Sunday.