by Mike McCarthy.

Whatever the future holds for our country this is hardly it’s finest hour. It seems that – not for the first time – our destiny is being shaped by political ego.

But standing proud above the gutter politics is that great golden dream of World Cup glory. Hang on! Who am I kidding?

Have I ever braved the cold and the rain to follow my team? Did I ever cry when my footballing heroes failed to lift the cup. The answer to both questions is an emphatic: Nope! I did once take my kids to watch Sheffield Utd but I can’t remember who they were playing.

Truth is – I don’t follow a team. I don’t have any footballing heroes. And to many I’d be classed as a “football fraud”, a Johnny-come-lately gatecrasher.

But my support for the England team is no less real for that. Despite my woeful credentials as a “true fan” I find myself in spasms of disappointment and elation when I watch our national team. I’ve even been drawn into following the non-England matches.

I actually fret about Gareth Southgate when he’s watching England take penalty kicks. I wince when they bring Harry Kane down. I want Danny Rose to be happy.

It all brings back memories of a long car journey I took while listening to Olympic radio commentary of a dressage event. Dressage for goodness sake! Compared to my knowledge of dressage I’m a veritable professor of football. And yet – when Charlotte Dujardin and her horse won gold for Great Britain I let out an instinctive roar that no-one but me could hear on that busy motorway.

So please don’t judge the “part-time” fans too harshly. Patriotism runs through our veins just as forcefully as it does for the full-blooded football supporters. For all of us – this is our England.