England’s win against Germany is only the beginning for the women’s game

England won. In the end, perhaps that was the only thing that mattered.

This is the brutal bargain of high-end sport: it offers hard edges, black-and-white certainties, one pedestal and one precipice. And in front of 87,192 delirious, sweat-soaked fans at Wembley, they beat Germany 2-1 to become champions of Europe for the first time.

But of course it had to mean more than this. And as captain Leah Williamson hoisted the trophy aloft in her rainbow armband, in front of a record crowd and a television audience likely to be the highest ever for a game of women’s football in Britain, it felt simultaneously like the end of one journey and the beginning of another. The first, an undying struggle for resources and respect, for parity and a platform, is finally complete. The second is a journey with no maps, no driver and no end in sight.

For more than 150 years football has been an intrinsic part of this nation’s culture and lifestyle, a form of identity, a unit of social currency. And yet for most of that time women have been excluded from this club and its perks: shouted down and shut out. The last time England’s men lifted a major trophy, the 1966 World Cup, women were banned from playing competitive football in any form. Now, against the same opponents in the same stadium, English football – all of it, not just half – has ascended to the very top step of the podium.

This is a team adored and revered in equal measure, relatable and humble but primarily athletes of the most viciously competitive quality. It is a team of many stars and none: tournament top scorer Beth Mead, goalkeeper Mary Earps, captain Williamson, and rising stars Alessia Russo and Lauren Hemp are world-class in their positions but ultimately submitting