It was an eyebrow-lifter, was it not? The moment when That Mad Bloke got England? That German Bloke, even. A genuinely, interestingly, eyebrow-raisingly spiky decision, from the traditional bland kings of slumbering risk-aversion. Tuchel; as gaffer. I liked it. It was fraught. It was perverse, almost. The fella’s just as likely to break out a samurai sword on the touchline as win you the World Cup.

And yet I also liked it because I’m the bloke who wrote blogs saying that even when City and Liverpool were magbloodynificent, coupla years back, briefly, Tuchel’s Chelsea were better. For a period of six or eight weeks. They were the best club side in the world. So yeh. There is both his incendiary mania-thing going on… and some brilliance.

Two games in and of course we’re still wondering. Two games won against ver-ry ordinary sides. (And no I’m not buying that ‘there are no easy games’ bollocks: Lewis-Skelly doesn’t get to march into centre-left midfield and put his headphones back on, if there are no easy games). Whoever-it-was and then Latvia are going to work, sure, and be disciplined in the modern way – have shape, have intensity – but provided you stay honest and pick your final passes you’re going to beat them. Which brings us directly to Rashford.

A confession: I do want Tuchel to bring his flamethrower to this group, which may be kinda institutionally complacent. But I also want him to cuddle and cajole. Rashford, having played the overwhelming bulk of the available minutes, despite having created almost nothing, is the most obvious recipient of Tuchel-faith – Tuchel-lurv, even. The gaffer is giving him every chance… and then some.

This conflicts your honourable scribe. A) I’m generally soft-leftie and have spent much of my life encouraging kids. B) Gramps played for MU. C) Ar Marcus *is conscious* and was plainly one the most thrilling forwards in Europe, about three years ago. His manager was obviously watching. (Klang! The thought strikes that like countryman Klopp, he may even be soft-leftie: but I doubt it and let’s move on).

Rashford nosedived and embarrassed himself at Old Trafford, over recent times. His ‘resurrection’ at Villa has been heavily overplayed. Tuchel, however, is not to be distracted from his generosity (or Rashness – geddit?) around this. I’m fine with that for now – coaching is, after all, the art of Reading the Human – so we must hope that the manager’s belief is founded on something. It may be: I hope it works out.

The player should be at his peak. I’m thinking he gets either one more go at producing before either the relationship turns towards a one-way bawl-fest, or he is quietly dropped. Rashford has had lots of possession against ordinary defenders but repeatedly beaten himself, found the opposition or fluffed his final pass.

Last night, on the other flank, Bowen had about ten percent of the opportunities Rashford had. He was effectively excluded from the game by that cruel tactical discipline around keeping shape and offering width. I felt a little sorry for him but the anarchist in me thinks maybe show a bitta spirit, son. Release the shackles; ignore that baying from behind the laptops. Race in, towards the ball. Get in the fakkin’ gaaame, san. Nick it off Rice’s toes and storm off darn the pitch. ‘Create sammink’. More fun and probably more fruitful than all that passive feet on the touchline stuff. Do that three or four times in the ninety minutes. Change the vibe and maybe the game. The alternative is you getting hoiked on the hour for ‘not being involved’.

The new England manager will have learned from games one and two. He will want his team to look less like the Old Regime – and certainly these performances felt Southgateian in terms of all that ‘patient possession’ and relatively little threat or urgency. So dull, largely. He will no doubt be clearer that Palmer and Saka will be a meaningful upgrade on Bowen and Rashford and that Rogers is a contender, despite fluffing some of his better moments against Latvia.

That retro-feel back three/five blend, with Burns as Jack Charlton and Lewis-Skelly as Kenny Sansome may work, and may even offer significant threat at t’other end of the park. Their partners seem much-of-a-muchness, their reasonable comfort on the ball and goodish pace and awareness feeling pretty interchangeable. All of Konsa, Guehi and Lewis-Skelly do that thing where they use their bodies to draw fouls as a first resort. (Don’t like it but this is where we are). Rice must play – obvs – and Bellingham, though the latter’s role may need to be considered against a fit Palmer’s strengths.

Foden is a fabulous player in search of a consistent England slot: he deserves it but may not get it. Pickford had his dead-cert-one-in-a-game moment when he took out Guehi and offered the centre-forward an open net, but the chance was woefully passed over. The keeper now has 70-plus caps, which can only point to a relative dearth of truly brilliant and consistent performers between the sticks. (In case you’re wondering, I do get the argument that Pickford is certainly a top, top performer, just not a great goalie). Walker feels like a man from another era: but still may do a job until someone who can still fizz comes in. James has always been a fine player. His superb free-kick surprised none of us. If he can get or stay really fit, for me he plays.

Let’s finish with that terrible Anglo-centric confliction: that Ingerland won but underwhelmed us all over again. Because they were mixed when we hoped they might be brilliant. Because *all that possession* but little purpose, with urgency no longer being a thing – or being a subordinate thing to the demonstration of tactical wizardry. Because of too many conceits and too few freedoms or instincts. Because of a kind of generational arrogance and ultimately an inability to execute to high standards. Oh – and because our expectations aren’t realistic, because we’re English.

 Over to you, T.T.