Tense times for England But could it be magic?

'Stop the boats, Nigel Farage,” sing a group of England fans as they step out of Dortmund station.

- Jonathan Liew

No, that’s not it. Too mean-spirited, too fringe. Maybe it’s the Killers, screening the last few minutes of the semi-final at their London concert, and then launching straight into Mr Brightside after the final whistle. No, too contrived. Maybe it’s Alfie Moon and Martin Fowler discussing Ollie Watkins' winning goal against the Netherlands in frankly discomforting detail on Thursday's hastily rewritten episode of EastEnders. No, too try-hard.

But perhaps this is the defining quality of English football mania: there isn't one. No one motif can ever hope to express this chaotic, snowballing tale of bemused delight, uncaged euphoria and wry smirks. No one image can capture the unique blend of ferment and foreboding, exclamation mark and question mark, tubthumping and navel-gazing, that accompanies England. Is this brilliant? This is brilliant! Is this fun? This is fun! Nobody really knows how we got here. Nobody knows what happens next. Nobody - and I mean nobody - has the faintest idea what any of this means. Welcome to Spain v England, the final of Euro 2024.

This is England's fourth final in as many summers. Berlin 2024 (men) comes hot on the heels of Sydney 2023 (women, defeat), Wembley 2022 (women, victory) and Wembley 2021 (men, defeat, racism).

By any objective measure, this is one of the golden streaks of British sport. So why does it still feel so skittishly contested? What are we hoping to happen tomorrow night, and why are we hoping for it?