Was the Azteca masterpiece really England’s finest footballing hour?

England beat Mexico 3-2 at the Azteca last weekend and it’s been raining superlatives ever since. Wayne Rooney said it was “one of their best ever performances”. Other assessments include “Greatest of all time” and “England’s greatest World Cup match”. David Beckham, comparatively restrained, said: “Absolutely nothing other than perfect.”

No footballing superlative is to be taken literally, of course, and they really did play jolly well. In doing so they ignited the most dangerous emotion in the game: the one that comes when hope turns into belief.

It only happens every few years, when England emerge from the chrysalis of mediocrity and take wing as a creature of infinite possibility. Blooooooody hell – you know I really think they might actually do it this time… This statement is generally accompanied by a blasphemy that sounds a lot like a prayer.

It wasn’t just that England won, though that was triumph enough. It was the manner of it: first two fine goals from Jude Bellingham, then the sweet penalty from Harry Kane that restored the two-goal lead, and finally the half-hour in which they defended with 10 men. The real miracle of the last bit was their calmness, calmness in deeply hostile circumstances. We waited as usual for the final fatal bish and it never came.

Time and again, England have cursed German efficiency in football. Now we are rejoicing in it. England’s German manager, Thomas Tuchel, had clearly drilled his team through hundreds of routines in emergency short-handed defence.

But last weekend wasn’t the only time that England supporters have felt the infinitely perilous kindling of belief. Let’s look at half a dozen other World Cup matches in which it seemed – at least for a while – that winning the World Cup again was a sane, sober and serious possibility.

1970 (Guadalajara)

Brazil 1 England 0

See you in the final. That was how it looked when Pelé and Bobby Moore embraced after the match and swapped shirts. It was obvious that England vs Brazil was a rivalry that would define football for years to come.

England were probably a better team than the one that won the World Cup four years earlier. The match is mostly remembered for a save: Jairzinho’s cross, a thundering header from Pelé, and yet Gordon Banks somehow got a hand to it. (“I’ve made lots of saves just as good, but they weren’t on telly,” Banks once told me.)

Some of Moore’s clean-as-a-whistle tackles were almost as good. The goal from Jairzinho came from too-intense watching of Pelé, but England might have equalised: Jeff Astle sent a shot narrowly wide and Alan Ball hit the bar.

For years, Brazil had been the standard by which football judged itself: the ne plus ultra of brilliance – and yet England went toe-to-toe with them. Surely the rest of the competition would be easy. And next time, Brazil wouldn’t be so lucky.

1990 (Bologna)

England 1 Belgium 0

It was going to be the most dismal World Cup of all time. Pete Davies, given unprecedented (and never-to-be repeated) access to the England team, called his resulting book All Played Out: for surely the campaign would reflect the hopelessness of Thatcher’s Britain. But it didn’t. It reflected the mad optimism of Paul Gascoigne instead.

Some athletes have the extraordinary ability to bring their most cherished fantasies into actuality. That’s what Ian Botham did when England won the Ashes in 1981. And it was – almost – what Gascoigne did at the 1990 World Cup. He played as if he believed England were Brazil and he was Pelé – and very nearly brought it off.

The group stage was dismal, with two draws and a 1-0 win over Egypt. But as the knockout stage began, Gascoigne took charge. The match against Belgium went into extra time goalless but England had looked good: John Barnes and Gary Lineker had narrow misses, Barnes had one disallowed for offside. The goal came in the 119th minute: a gorgeous floating free-kick into the box from Gascoigne which David Platt, a substitute, volleyed in on the half-turn. I watched this one from a bar in fair Verona: my employers had sent me there to watch Spain vs Yugoslavia. Of which I remember nothing.

1998 (Saint-Étienne)

Argentina 2 England 2

Michael Owen was 18. And fast. His movement was lightning: his thoughts were much faster. He fed voraciously on momentary hesitation: so slight, so swift and so certain.

England fell behind to a penalty won by the great actor Diego Simeone, the Richard Burbage of football, but had one back within minutes: Owen was felled, Alan Shearer converted the spot-kick. Seven minutes later we had one of the prettiest England goals you’ll ever see: David Beckham to Owen, and a finish back across the goalkeeper with power and elevation. What could possibly go wrong?

Argentina equalised from a clever free-kick and Beckham got himself sent off for kicking Simeone, who was mortally wounded. Apparently. But England held on – and on. They even had the winner, headed in by Sol Campbell, but it was disallowed because Alan Shearer had elbowed his marker. England kept them out until the end of extra time, with Tony Adams and Campbell at the heart of it. It was a performance of strength, skill and not a little beauty and it was settled by what the great football writer Brian Glanville called “the abomination, the prevailing irrelevance of penalties”.

2002 (Shizuoka)

England 1 Brazil 2

Another defeat, sure, but if you can’t find glory in defeat, football totters. I was in the stadium for that one, and for 22 minutes of the first half, I thought England might win it. Also, for 23 minutes of the second I knew England should win it.

England opened the scoring through Owen’s speed: Lucio made a mess of Emile Heskey’s through ball and Owen was on to it in an Owenesque flash. For England a moment of brilliance, for Brazil a moment of fallibility: both highly acceptable.

Rivaldo equalised just before half-time – a classic hope-killer. Ronaldinho scored the winner with a free-kick of misunderstood brilliance. (For once I had the best possible view.)

Ronaldinho was then sent off, England were now chasing the game against 10 men… and as they did so their self-belief ran out like water down the plughole. Handed a decisive advantage, they played worse. But those 22 first-half minutes were not without beauty.

2018 (Moscow)

Colombia 1 England 1

Perhaps the England manager Gareth Southgate agreed with Glanville about penalties, but he didn’t accept the notion that decision by shootout was down to fate. You could give fate a helping hand.

No more looking for volunteers after 120 minutes. No more inexperienced penalty-takers. No more believing that you can’t replicate a shootout in practice. Farewell amateur night. This is the way games are now decided, and no matter how abominable that might be, you might as well do all you can to win it.

Southgate in his nice waistcoat had a side well prepared for the ordeal. They had taken the lead (Kane penalty) in a typically angst-ridden tie and conceded the inevitable sickener in the 93rd minute. A barren extra time followed. All right. England may have lost six out of seven shootouts at major tournaments, but that’s about to change.

Southgate has never forgotten his own disastrous penalty at Euro ’96.

He took that as a reverse template for action. Just as in practice, the ball was handed to each penalty-taker by the England goalkeeper Jordan Pickford. Every penalty-taker paused at the top of his run-up, took a moment of stillness, and then, crucially, stuck to the plan. Kane, yes. Marcus Rashford, yes. Jordan Henderson, saved – but Mateus Uribe hit the bar and missed. Kieran Trippier and Eric Dier, yes and yes again. Job done. And if England can win penalty shootouts, they can surely win anything. Can’t they?

2022 (Doha)

England 3 Senegal 0

There are moments of profound privilege when an England supporter watches an England World Cup match without a trace of anxiety, not once asking: “How are we going to ruin it this time?”

Sure, it was bit fraught at the start, but once Henderson opened the scoring from a precise cross from Bellingham, it was time to do something almost unprecedented and enjoy watching England play football. The second goal was enough to make you purr: Bellingham to Foden and Kane finishing as if missing was impossible. Foden set up the third for Bukayo Saka to lift a finish over the goalkeeper.

Victory had been achieved with a swagger: let all future opponents beware.

Ever since 1966, there has been a feeling that England ought to win every single World Cup, and that when they don’t, someone has failed and must be punished.

This tradition blinds us to the fact that in falling short, England have often played football to rejoice in, sometimes for minutes at a time.

And on a few occasions even longer.

Was Simon right?

Croatia 2 England 1 (2018)

My son was two in 2018, and he was not old enough to know what was going on — that England had reached their first semi-final in almost 30 years, that they ultimately lost to Croatia in extra time, having been ahead — but he wanted very much to play along.The match itself was memorable for England, but it was even more poignant for me. In the summer of 2018 my son was beginning to speak, and among the 20 or so full phrases he knew, “it’s coming home” was by far my favourite. He was in bed by the final whistle, and I felt sorry that he was going to wake up to the bad news. He cried, I remember, though he was always crying. Alex Moshakis, O Magazine editor

England 4 Croatia 2 (2026)

In all the 50-odd years I have been watching England fail to reach expectations – and yes I’m  looking most particularly at you, Golden Generation – I cannot recall being more captivated than I was just three weeks ago. Maybe it was the ‘here we go again’ feeling of the first-half but the moment Bellingham went on that run, leaving sprawling defenders in his wake, to score at full sprint, my ashy hopes were rekindled. Jude, Kane, Rashford, Saka, Rice all playing the sort of flowing football you usually have to be French to really enjoy. I’m too old and too English to expect the feeling to last, but for those 45 minutes I could dream. Alison Shepherd, deputy production editor

Argentina 0 England 1 (2002)

As the Irish Times journalist Paul Howard noted, the best World Cup is the tournament closest to your 11th birthday. While I don’t agree entirely, England beating Argentina 1-0 in the 2002 World Cup goes some way to proving it. The 1998 World Cup was the first one I remember, when England got dumped out on penalties to Argentina (see left), so seeing us get revenge at the earliest possible moment – in England’s second group game – was a treat for someone who had become a teenager only a fortnight before. John Motson’s somewhat bizarre commentary line: “Hold the cups and glasses at home… you can smash them now!” as David Beckham slammed home the first-half penalty is still etched in my memory. Andrew Butler, deputy sports editor

England 3 France 1 (1982)

There was a special catharsis about Bryan Robson’s opening goal at the 1982 finals, which marked England’s return to the tournament after a dozen years of crushing failure. That the goal came after 27 seconds against the French team of Michel Platini and Alain Giresse only added to that dam-burst of relief. Robson was the Bellingham-like heart of a team that promised greatness – Keegan, Shilton, Francis, Brooking, Hoddle –  if only manager Ron Greenwood and Don Howe, had been willing or able to get them all out on the pitch at the same time. England won that opener 3-1, but lost out to West Germany in the second group stage, shuffling home having not lost a match. Robson’s next two tournaments were ruined by injury, but for that first minute in Bilbao, he will always look like the World Cup winner he deserved to be. Tim Adams, New Review editor

Mexico 2 England 3 (2026)

If the millenials could ‘epic fail’, us Gen Z lot can ‘have a Hendo’. Jordan Henderson getting booked and stretchered off in a match he didn’t play in summarises a game of football that strecthes every superlative. Defensively, it battle hardened the squad. Bellingham and Kane gave us everything. Jordan Pickford was furious. Maybe it’s recency bias, but I can’t remember the last time watching England made me feel so alive. Jessica Hayden, assistant sports editor

Photographs by Michael Mayhew/Getty; John Varley/Mirrorpix via Getty; Albert Cooper/Mirrorpix via Getty; Patrick Kovarik/AFP via Getty; Richard Sellers/Allstar via Getty; Simon Stacpoole/Offside/Getty Images; Tom Jenkins/Getty