The England v Croatia result was not un-expected. No-one could expect a team who serially scratch and scrape through games and lack players who can kick straight to prevail against a team that top their group as a matter of course.

It has become business as usual for England to need a draw here and another team lose there. When Israel defeated Russia, it seemed it was happening again. Russia can feel unfortunate to have lost, a ball against the post with mere minutes to play, while Israel can be proud of a performance of form, passion and skill and scoring the best kind of goal - the winner too late to be cancelled out. England just ran out of excuses and excuses do not score goals.

But the excuses continue. It has become as predictable as a soap opera. The manager, the head coach, does the usual " We're all sick as parrots'' etc. England is no safe place for a parrot these days. In the post-match blah, the manager firmly states he will not resign.

'It would surprise few if Nellie The Elephant played in goal. At least Nellie might stop a few more shots, though no doubts Herr Blatter at Footie HQ would have something to say about players with trunks being ''bad'' for football'


The cynics will say no-one should resign when being fired means a pay-off of not-quite Enron proportions but a few bags of easy money, nevertheless. The more observant might ask why a manager could not show as much fortitude about playing as he does about resignation.

Meanwhile, the front pages are already rolling with the perennial burn-the-manager blurb as the FA announce they are having a meeting at 08:30 the following day. Read all in tomorrow's gripping episode. This is little removed from the press frenzy about extra-marital shenanigans of the Soho Square Soap Opera Company during the tenure of Sven Boring Trousers-Down and his merry band of co-bonkers.

As for the game, it was quite a spectacle before it even kicked off. Prince William was there and not reading "Wow!" off a cue card this time. No-one much questioned the team. It's been like that since the days of Graham Taylor. It would surprise few if Nellie The Elephant played in goal. At least Nellie might stop a few more shots, though no doubts Herr Blatter at Footie HQ would have something to say about players with trunks being ''bad'' for football.

Not when it's trunkloads of money. In this game, England were caught short from the get-go, two goals down after minutes and showing no sign of confidence or any shape of a team that know each other. They returned to contention with the award of a penalty that would strain the credulity of the Flat Earth Society, and then drew level with what can only be called a beaut, a measured cross from David Beckham, struck deftly like a nine-iron, to Peter Crouch, who captured the ball on his chest with sublime touch and struck the text-book finish.

Bravo! This was the same David Beckham the press demonised with images of a hangman's noose when he succumbed to the wind-ups of Argentina and was sent off for his troubles. This was the same Peter Crouch paraded across the front pages over the antics of his on/off/estranged then-girlfriend/partner, the same Peter Crouch who in his encounters with the same media, displays an intelligence and sense of decency that England could do with.

Or could it be the England, as in the Suits of the Football Association, don't like such qualities? And why is it that Frank Lampard, a player of unquestionable power and elegance, always looked worried? And why did Paul Scholes, a player history will surely record as one of the greatest midfield complete footballers, quit? If you were a young man from Oop North like Wayne Rooney, wouldn't you break a toe to get away from this cowboy outfit? Answers on a P45. Bring a wheelbarrow for the pay-off. Failure pays in Suits land.

The Day After As Usual came. Steve McClaren was fired, Terry Venables too. The same Terry Venables, the barrow-boy who had England playing with a power and glee that few if any ever saw before. Various Suits showed their faces. They told the world how much they ''care'' about everyone and everything, like fans and er, em, well, er, eh ...

 Brian Barwick was especially good, or bad as the case may be. He said: "Last night was really really tough" and followed with a hilarious: " And today was quite tough, too." He was only short of a Blackadderism: "Gosh phew crikey, I'm a bit horrified!" The media quickly took chase after the players. Millionaire players! Before long they will burning the goalposts as witches. Not one questioned the quality of the people who 'run' the game, the Suits in Soho Square who know as much about football as I do about yak farming.

But a few did have something to say. On NOS 1, Nederlands, Sam Allardyce and Roy Keane turned up with a few answers to questions asked. Big Sam, not known for his love for the media, spoke with canny accuracy. He spoke of the eminence of the Premier League and the money. He followed with: "And I don't just mean football -
but the country ". That bit was edited from the CNN broadcast but CNN don't so much report news as package it.

Keane observed that the Suits "don't look like a happy lot ". Keane's views on the prawn sandwich contingent are well known. A man whose playing showed such vision and tenacity is not to be ignored. He spoke of their body language, how it betrays that something is not quite well with football in Soho Square. Of course, neither are contenders for the job any sensible man would pass up to be a rat-catcher during a plague. But fear not; like Baldrick, the FA have a cunning plan...

What happens next is a media frenzy of invented news as to who will succeed the gormless McClaren. The big-time managers who are tired of the game will look seriously at the job, a few easy millions as a retirement plan, knowing England expects ... nothing. Nothing but the same old excuses.

Are we surprised? No. We all know what happens in Suits land. Cry for the cameras. Apologise. You don't need a gun to rob anyone these days; just an apology. This is the same cabal who denied the man who won two European Cups with a team of has-beens, head-cases and kids. Brian Clough. You don't need great players to make great teams.

The next England manager, whoever is stupid enough to accept the mess, will probably be announced at Soho Square with a yabba dabba doo!