In her insightful work, Hope in the Dark , Rebecca Solnit explores the feasibility of maintaining hope amidst the backdrop of human suffering. She references Bulgarian author Maria Popova’s observation.
“Critical thinking without hope is cynicism, but hope without critical thinking is naivety.”
This serves as a strong argument for hope being a driving force for social progress.
Conversely, Graham Burrell noted after Lincoln City’s 2-1 defeat to Wigan in 2024: “It is the hope that kills you” He expressed that this loss likely extinguished any playoff aspirations they had.
Placing that defeat at Sincil Bank within the broader context of human suffering is challenging. Similarly, England’s defeat to Argentina on Wednesday raises questions about expectations and emotions involved.
The origin of the phrase, “I feel perhaps our playoff push was finally killed off yesterday.” is elusive, with many attributing it to figures ranging from William Shakespeare to Peter Ustinov. Various interpretations have emerged, including one from Ted Lasso, who remarked: “It is the hope that kills you.”
Jackson Lamb from Slow Horses adds his own twist.
“So, I’ve been hearing this phrase y’all got over here that I ain’t too crazy about. ‘It’s the hope that kills you’. Y’all know that? I disagree, you know? I think it’s the lack of hope that comes and gets you. See, I believe in hope. I believe in belief.”
One might wonder if England’s performance would have been different during those final 30 minutes with either Lasso or Lamb coaching. Their styles would undoubtedly diverge; Lasso wouldn’t opt for a back six, while Lamb might call the players out directly. The varying approaches span the spectrum from supportive to tough love.
All England supporters, and indeed sports fans, understand that hope can be a paralyzing emotion. It doesn’t manifest immediately; instead, fear often dominates. Anxiety builds during pre-game rituals, the countdown, and as the ball returns to Jordan Pickford. My heart felt like it was racing uncontrollably.
As the match progresses, that initial panic subsides. Yet, it’s replaced by a simmering anxiety, especially as Giuliano Simeone’s aggressive play raises concerns about officiating. Questions arise: Where’s the yellow card? Are conspiracy theories valid? He narrowly misses Marc Guéhi and lunges forward like a shark, missing the target. At this point, every tackle from Argentina feels malicious while fouls by English players seem justified. Another pint of that selective vision, please.
By half-time, a wave of pessimism has taken hold. The longer the game drags on, the more likely it seems that Argentina will seize victory. Their experience in high-pressure situations is undeniable. I find myself muttering phrases like “It’s not the hope that kills you. It’s knowing it’s the hope that kills you – that kills you.” and “Well, at least they need two now”
Then comes the goal. A flawlessly executed cross leads to a perfect finish, igniting a surge of joy and relief. This moment encapsulates genuine hope, coupled with the pragmatic thought of “It’s too soon to defend this.” – a mindset familiar to anyone who has followed England for long.
The only other moment of elation occurs during Djed Spence’s tackle. He appears unfazed, simply showcasing his talent before returning to mundane tasks at home. Yet, that celebration echoed iconic moments in football history. “That’s saved eight seconds.” I shouted. That tackle stands as one of the greatest for England since Eric Dier’s challenge on Sergio Ramos, and perhaps even more significant. Had circumstances shifted, that tackle could have been immortalized.
There’s a conversation happening about England’s defensive strategy. Was it Thomas Tuchel’s insight? The players’ discussion? Or merely a manifestation of English nerves? Another tactical analysis may not be necessary, as we’ve all seen the patterns.
It’s during those fleeting moments that hope felt authentic. I began to envision England reaching a World Cup final. The excitement of remaining in the tournament surpasses the actual matches; it’s the thrill of being part of something larger. The games themselves can feel like an endurance test.
Even before the hydration break, a retreat began. Yet how many of us thought, “Eighty-four minutes on the clock now,”? With ten players at the Azteca, such a move made sense. But could I withstand the tension of a prolonged struggle? As time wore on and chances slipped away, hope began to resurface.
In the 82nd minute, Nico O’Reilly made a crucial block and pursued the ball, managing another deflection. We found ourselves in enemy territory. I exclaimed to my Football Weekly colleague, John Brewin: “I keep looking at that clock and thinking it’s going ever so slow,” Shortly thereafter, Lionel Messi carelessly sends a cross out of bounds for a goal-kick. In that moment, I dared to think, maybe, just maybe.
I started to imagine England competing in a World Cup final – a selfish thought, but what a dream it would be to spend a few days in New York, with podcasts and TalkSport shows practically writing themselves. I could pen a column focused on hope, but a different kind of hope. What a privilege that would be.
With a goal-kick awarded to England, the challenge of scoring remains daunting, even with a player like Messi on the pitch. John Stones is seen doing keepy-ups as Pickford sends the kick downfield, allowing O’Reilly to regain possession. A throw-in is awarded to Argentina deep in their territory. “Eighty-four minutes on the clock now,” Guy Mowbray announces. “I keep looking at that clock and thinking it’s going ever so slow,” Alan Shearer adds.
At 84’24, Enzo Fernández takes a long-range shot, which Pickford manages to deflect over the bar. It’s a close call, but the team holds its formation. By 84’55, Enzo finds himself with ample space at the edge of the box, shoots, and scores – and in that moment, it’s clear that the game is lost.
In total, I experienced genuine hope for just two minutes and 55 seconds. Yet, that brief glimmer was exhilarating, frightening, and reaffirming of life itself. I’ve previously pondered whether I would ever be ready for England’s men to win a significant title – perhaps I will never face that reality. For now, a taste of hope is sufficient. If hope can ignite social change, it can certainly help us envision Adam Wharton lifting the European Championship trophy in 2028, if only for a fleeting moment.
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