Annoyingly I missed kick-off for the Nations League game between Portugal and The Lionesses on Friday evening. One of my earlier blogs has already touched upon my frustration at being late for matches. (“#11 Down A Dead End Street” – go and take a read of it, it’s quite good. Probably much better than this blog post will actually be.)

I wasn’t able to sit down to watch the match until a full two-minutes had elapsed. (More on why later.) Anything could happen inside the opening 120 seconds of a footy match and those opening moments often set the tone for the action to come. Well, nothing happened this time but the tone was set. For the first-half at least.

The Manchester United duo of Ella Toone and Grace Clinton were in the staring eleven, alongside Keira Walsh and Jess Park in midfield. Alessia Russo led the attack, while Lauren James and Lucy Bronze posed the threat from out wide. Leah Williamson and Millie Bright provided the centre-back pairing in front of Mary Earps. Chloe Kelly, a late call-up to the squad, had to settle for a place on the bench.

Sarina Wiegman’s charges dominated during the opening 45 and already had a few chances before taking the lead in the fifteenth minute. James, cutting in from the left, pinged a pacy cross-field pass towards the right-hand side. Lucy Bronze did magnificently to take the pace off the ball first time with her outstretched foot. With her next touch Bronze fired a wickedly dangerous cross into the box. Russo, enjoying a purple path for WSL side Arsenal, escaped her marker and, from less than six-yards, knocked the ball through the goalkeeper’s legs to give England a one-nil lead. Fully deserved it was, too.

The Lionesses could, and should, have added more goals in that first-half. We need to capitalise when we are in control of games and get as many goals ahead as possible. Toone had a glorious effort that crept agonisingly wide of the keeper’s right post. Two decent penalty appeals were waved away by Ivana Projkovska, a referee who, in my opinion, should have been more even-handed – for both teams – throughout this fixture. Toone in particular received some harsh treatment from the Portuguese players, including a nasty knee to the nethers late on which looked very painful. For women, as well as men, blows to that area are especially eye-watering. These challenges were fouls by anyone’s understanding of the game. Anyone, that is, except Ivana.

So, 1-0 at the break and The Lionesses full value for their slender lead.

Bronze didn’t reappear for the second-half; Jess Carter replacing the Chelsea right-back. Carter is a fine defender; solid, rugged in the tackle and dependable with her distribution. But she doesn’t offer the attacking width or pose quite as much danger to the opposition as Bronze does. I think Bronze being replaced was less tactical by Wiegman and more a cautionary move. I thought that, midway through the first forty-five, Bronze had been slow(ish) to get up after a challenge. For some minutes afterwards she appeared to be concerned with her leg or knee (left, I think, although I have not rewatched the footage). Anyway, it is my assumption that Bronze probably sustained a knock during that tackle and her removal during the “slice of orange” break was to prevent any further damage. This incident didn’t seem to register at the time with the ITV commentary team. Thinking back while typing this, I am now wondering if I imagined it!

The second-half was chalk to the cheese that comprised the first. This is a trend that became annoyingly familiar for The Lionesses during 2024. A trend that needs rectifying ASAP ahead of the fast approaching Euros.

Portugal made changes to their shape and the tide turned dramatically. The hosts brought on substitutes who revitalised their attacking prowess and they were incessant with their threat to Mary Earp’s goal. England simply couldn’t get going. We struggled to retain the ball or to move out of our half for sustained periods. Portugal were all over The Lionesses.

Their goal had to come. Substitute Francisca Nazareth thumped home a fabulous equaliser in the 76^th minute. Portugal had further chances. England did too. Kelly came on in the dying minutes but didn’t get enough touches to have an effect on the game. The match ended in a draw. Disappointing for England fans but, in truth, our (under)performance and Portugal’s inspired play in the second-half made the draw seem a fair result. Neither team doing quite enough to merit the full three points.

Next up for The Lionesses, the midweek visit to Wembley of Spain.

Against Belgium on Friday, the Spaniards showed exactly why they are the current World Champions. As well as being richly talented in every single area of the pitch, Spain are remorseless. They know how to put in a performance over, not only ninety minutes, but the entire duration of the match. Trailing 2-0 at home as their match entered the 72^nd minute, by full time Spain had turned the match on its head. They squared, then sealed the game, in time-added-on. 

77. Goal. Relentless.

90+2. Equaliser. Remorseless.

90+6. Winner. Ruthless.

Wednesday’s match will surely be a tough one for England. If we don’t start to play for the full 90, and beyond, it may prove too tough.

Now, Friday wasn’t a complete disappointment, the game’s result notwithstanding.

Sarah and I had taken the mid-morning train to Manchester to see a show. We also took along a bag of Haribo to enjoy while watching “Dear Evan Hansen” at the Palace Theatre. The sweets made it as far as the Accrington area before the bag became mysteriously empty.

Once in Manchester, we visited two Wetherspoon’s pubs; most of the menu was unavailable at the first one so we moved 0.3 of a mile down the road to a different establishment. That one, too, had a large number of items that couldn’t be ordered. Maybe there was a supply chain issue in the Greater Manchester region, we thought. Anyway, with time before the show ticking away, I chose a simple plate of sausage, chips and beans while Sarah went for the fish-and-chips. It was Friday, after all.

Shortly after eating, with Guinness necked and vino sipped, we headed for the theatre. Oooh! A trip to the theatre on a workday. A matinee show, too. Very decadent. That’s the type of folk we are. “Dear Evan Hansen” was extremely good. Terrific tunes, superb performances from the eleven strong cast, and a strong – albeit, quite sad – storyline. A thoroughly enjoyable way to spend an afternoon with the missus.

Then, a quick stop at a cosy coffee shop while we waited for the train home. Disappointingly, our train – an express service from Manchester Victoria to Huddersfield without any stops enroute – got stuck behind a train intent on visiting every single station on the tracks. Which meant we arrived twelve-minutes late at our destination. Not a delay that would have our old mate Odysseus too worried, mind, but enough to mean we would struggle to get home ahead of the match starting.

By the time we had walked to the car and driven home – via collecting young Basil from my Ma-in-Law’s – the England and Portugal teams were pitch side and belting out the national anthems. I went into the garden with all four mutts and, by the time I was sat, the match was a full two-minutes old. Humph!

While we were in Manchester, a pair of England FA Dri-Fit pants (leggings, not under-crackers) that I ordered for our Switzerland trip had arrived. Now these were in my size – I won’t let on what that size is – but they were an athletic style, slim-fit garment. I tried them on and they fit just fine. I have quite good calves – well-toned with good definition; if I say so myself, they are possibly my best feature – and the pants looked okay. But only up to just above the knee. Above that and everything simply looked wrong. The pants are acceptable for wearing in the privacy of my own home but outside, in full view of the Great British public and in front of those poor, innocent Swiss folk, is another matter altogether.

Far too snug, far too clingy for a man of my age to wear while out and about. Certain things were far too visible. And nobody needs to see them that those. Think of Rod Stewart in his leopard-print Seventies prime combined with the late comedian Max Wall. Not a pleasant image. Less “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” And more “Do Ya Think I Look Like A Sex Pest?”

I have passed them on to #SonInLawNo1 to try. Liam is a young ‘un, quite into his fitness and he is also a runner. They often wear tight sports clothes, so maybe he will find a use for them. I shall have to source a better style of leggings for myself.

Guess what else arrived while we were in Manchester. Go on, have a guess!

My flag has arrived! It was waiting on the doormat when we got home. Five feet by three feet of Lioness supporting loveliness. It looks magnificent and, along with the hoodies that were ready last week – now there is a super exciting tale to tell about that! – I am all ready for Switzerland. Well, I’m not really. I still have to pack at some later point. But I have made a lengthy list of stuff to pack and, because Liam has booked our flights on hand luggage only, I have just a teeny-tiny Ryanair-cabin-acceptable-size-backpack to take with me. It will be quite an achievement to cram everything in.

Once packed that compact backpack is going look a lot like me wearing those Dri-Fit FA pants.