Remarkable in terms of the record and remarkable because of how it felt. Wiegman and England.

The manager (or is it coach?) *really must* have something extraordinary going on. We can only guess that it oozes out from that intellectual calm. And maybe that her huddles are truly and genuinely inspirational.

This is not to say that the woman from The Hague can’t plan, or juggle, or read the game. Surely only Emma Hayes is at Wiegman level in terms of strategy and tactical awarenesses? But where Hayes has a physical presence, Ar Sarina has that quaker-like calm.

She’s needed it. Because (here’s where it gets weird) not only is there an argument that her team repeatedly scraped through this thing but also that very few of them played anywhere near their capacity. Might sound ungenerous or even churlish but that rarest of things the Dispassionate View might see things thataway. Look; if it could be remotely possible to judge (and by this I mean set aside the excitement and the drama and *really judge*) then who gets an 8/10, say, over the tournament?

Before you people freak out at the essential negativity here let me offer a friendly biff around the bonce. I get this… and I get that – duh – if Ingerland really underperformed, then clearly they can get to a frightening level. One where we really might dispassionately talk of dynasties. They won here – wow! Let’s party! – without generating phases of play; without relentlessly closing down; without being all that good. It was a remarkable case (to use a Proper English phrase) of muddling through.

Hampton. Hampton was consistently good. The farces around penalties foisted her into another space, where palpitations and ardent, myopic tribalism inevitably cast her as hero and legend. She made some goodish penalty saves… but most of us would have saved them. No matter: for her general, allround goalkeeping play, she gets an 8. Excellent temperament. Strikes the ball well and often beautifully. HH – who let’s remember turned the issue of the Earps-void or Earps-omission into a non-issue – is now unarguably in the top two or three keepers on the planet. She played to her level consistently. I’m not sure anyone else did.

Walsh is often quiet – it’s just the way she plays – but she was relatively uninfluential. Stanway was mixed. Williamson has sublime composure and head-up passing quality but apart from an accomplished display in the final, the captain was decent rather than exceptional. Toone was in and out, bits and pieces, as she has been for eighteen months. Mead likewise. Hemp had a strongish final but was disappointing through the tournament. Carter looked what she is: honest, strong but limited. Greenwood played below her best – her best being ver-ry good, both in defence and going forward. Less arrowed passes, less brilliant dead balls.

James and Bronze have both been crocked. Bronze still managed to be a key figure, despite being vulnerable last night. Her courage may hoist her rating above 7; I’ll leave that to you. James, apart from that thrilling early goal, was nowhere near her beguiling best – but crocked.

I’m a huge fan of Russo, who (as previously noted) may have the best engine in world football. Outside the box she’s fabulous. Can hold and turn and run like hell. Her energy and sheer willingness are sensational. She got a good solid header in to equalise Spain’s lovely (but poorly-defended) opener but *did miss* opportunities in the earlier rounds and is not, in my view a great finisher generally. Wiegman may, however, put Russo’s name down on the team-mate before anybody else’s and I would have no argument. She has class… and she has that engine.

I too must dash. Let the other scribes do the ‘definitive’ stories and the marks out of ten. I’ve a mum with dementia in front of me and no time to unscramble the scramble.

England won two on the bounce – incredible. Penalties again, entirely credibly but also veering towards another mess. But no. Charles and somebody else and then Kelly stood up. The latter loves the theatre of this and embodies it. A mischievous prance at the ball and this time a fluent, fabulous connection. Job done and let’s party.