Sarina Wiegman’s unerringly good England are yet to revive my familiar pain

In 2014, Cambridge United played Gateshead in the National League play-off Final. Four minutes to go and we were 2-1 up when Ian Miller, our centre-back, went down with a broken ankle. We’d used all our subs. The referee played 10 minutes of injury time. TEN MINUTES. It felt about a year. Gateshead put a header just wide as the clock flicked to 99 minutes. My voice had gone. I could barely breathe. The relief at the final whistle is almost impossible to articulate.

Every fan recognises that agonising knot of nerves that goes beyond the pit of the stomach. It is overwhelming and all-consuming. Nothing else can give you that escapism – you are completely lost in the moment – but it’s very difficult to work out if it’s in any way enjoyable.

For men’s international football tournaments, my dull pain normally begins on the morning of the first England game, and doesn’t leave until whichever devastating method of exit we’ve chosen. All those walks to the penalty spot. Pearce, Batty, Southgate, Saka. Gazza’s outstretched boot. Waddle hitting the post. That Argentinian getting in the way of a certain Lineker equaliser.

The Euro 2020 final felt like a seminal moment – I was almost paralysed with nerves beforehand. I had always wondered how I’d feel if England reached a major final, and how I’d react, win or lose. It was remarkably undramatic. I woke up the next day and was already over it. Perhaps the scenes at Wembley beforehand had tarnished it. Perhaps I’m just not as fanatical as I thought. Perhaps working in football has taken away the magic a little. Perhaps it’s just that I’m getting older.

This Sunday is another chance for a lot of England fans to get their first experience of winning a major trophy. In the days leading