England, Tuchel, and a Contract Nobody Actually Read

In the 55th minute, Anthony Gordon put the ball in the net against Argentina. I was sitting in my apartment in Shanghai, the laptop screen replaying the World Cup semi-final, and what made me hit pause was not the goal. It was the empty space immediately after — the forty minutes in which England, a team that had just scored, suddenly stopped playing football. They sat deep, hacked clearances upfield, waited. And Argentina, with players accustomed to living in that void, simply stepped in and took what they wanted. When the final whistle blew, I closed the laptop and wrote a single line in my notebook: "They lost because they no longer knew how to keep the ball." Not because of Tuchel. Not because of the substitutions. But because of something that existed before he arrived, and will exist after he leaves.

That is why I am writing this piece. Not to defend Thomas Tuchel. But to reread an event that all of England is calling a "failure" in a way I consider structurally wrong.

Thomas Tuchel was appointed in October 2026, succeeding Gareth Southgate. Southgate, who led England for six years — the most sustained successful period in the national team's history, two European Championship finals, one World Cup semi-final — was treated as if he were the only obstacle on the road to world domination. I followed that story from afar, through bulletins, through podcasts, through the status lines my English colleagues posted. And I noticed one thing: in England, a successful manager can still be removed for reasons unrelated to results.

Now it is Tuchel's turn.

Since the English media collectively declared the recent World Cup a failure, a current of opinion has spread across sports channels, from radio to podcasts by "celebrity" former players. I listened to a few clips. They use the word "failure" with a frequency I cannot recall them ever using for "the best ever result on foreign soil". I heard "failure, failure, failure" repeated in a tone as if it were self-evident truth, as if anyone who did not say it were a fool or a blind apologist.

I have spent most of my career in the transfer industry not believing what spreads fastest. I believe what can be checked. And when I checked the facts around Tuchel and England, I saw something different.

This is England's best-ever World Cup result on foreign soil. It is also the highest win ratio of any England manager. And Tuchel is one of the best managers England could have at this moment. Nobody cares. Because the story was written before the match ended. I have seen this in the transfer market: a deal can be judged a disaster in the first two weeks after signing, just because of one press conference or one baseless rumour. So it is here.

I recall a line I still use when analysing transfer moves: "I never believe rumours; I believe the silences between phone calls." In Tuchel's case, the silence is the notable quiet of people who actually understand football. Tactical analysts do not say England lost to Argentina because of Tuchel's substitutions. They say England lost because they stopped controlling the ball from the 55th minute. None of his critics mention that detail, because it breaks the story. And the story is always more important than the truth.

I followed England throughout this tournament from my office in Shanghai, through livestreams with colleagues in Europe, through data bulletins I gathered from multiple sources. And what I realised is this: England have a squad good enough to reach a semi-final, but not a single player capable of regulating the tempo of a match when things get tense. That is a fundamental technical problem. Not a manager's tactical problem.

I have seen this many times when analysing club-level transfer deals. A team can have Europe's best striker, Europe's tightest defence, but without a central midfielder who knows how to control tempo, they collapse in the big matches. Pep Guardiola's Barcelona had Busquets. Zidane's Real Madrid had Modric and Kroos. Klopp's Liverpool had Fabinho and Wijnaldum. England have… who?

That is the question nobody wants to answer.

National-team managers usually lack the squad-selection freedom club managers enjoy. They must work with what is available. And England, despite the wealth of the Premier League, does not produce central midfielders of the Modric, Messi or Pirlo type — players who not only pass well but read the game at a deeper level, knowing when to hold, when to push, when to drop.

A team can win with physicality and speed in the group stage. But to win in the knockout rounds, you need someone who can change a match's tempo with a single pass.

England do not have that person. They never have. And they will not in the near future, because England's youth development system has been obsessed with physicality and speed for twenty years. The Premier League, the richest league in the world, is a machine that produces fast runners, hard shooters, strong duellers. But it does not produce players who know how to stand still when necessary.

This is the paradox. The richest league in the world, with the most money, cannot produce the type of player England need most.

Tuchel knows this. He has managed big clubs in Europe. He knows that without a controlling central midfielder, his team must play a different way. But when you are handed a team of people unsuited to your philosophy, you have two choices: change your philosophy, or try to adapt to what you have. He tried to do both, and the result is an England that is powerful but incomplete.

That is why the 55th-minute moment matters so much. When Gordon scored, England were ahead. They had a psychological advantage. If they had a central midfielder who could control the ball for the next 10–15 minutes, they might have completely changed the match. Argentina would have had to push up, and England would have had counter-attacking chances.

That is the script of a victory.

Instead, England dropped deep. They began hacking the ball upfield haphazardly. They did not keep the ball. They did not control tempo. They waited for Argentina to attack. And when Argentina attacked, they did not have enough to withstand it for the remaining 40 minutes.

I rewatched those 40 minutes at least five times. What surprised me is that no England player tried to hold the ball for more than three seconds. They received and immediately passed back, or hacked upfield. No patience. No confidence. No one to stand up and say: "I will keep this ball."

That is not a tactical problem. It is a collective psychological problem. And it is something no manager can fix in a single training session.

Gareth Southgate tried to fix it for six years. He changed the team culture, built a cohesive unit, took England to two Euro finals. And when he left, he was still seen as part of the problem. Now it is Tuchel's turn. He has 20 months to prepare for Euro 2028, a tournament to be hosted at home. He has a good squad. He has home advantage. But he does not have time.

That is the paradox of international football. You need time to build a team, but you do not have time because of results pressure. And in England, that pressure is greater than anywhere else.

I remember a story from 2026. When PSG triggered Neymar's 222-million-euro release clause, I spent weeks analysing the numbers, comparing wage bills, trying to understand the deal's logic. What I learned is this: big decisions in football are often made for emotional reasons, not logic. PSG signed Neymar because they wanted to win the Champions League. Barcelona sold Neymar because they could not refuse that money. Both decisions had logic, but both were driven by emotion — ambition, fear, pride.

The Tuchel case is the same. England appointed Tuchel because they believed a foreign manager could bring what English managers could not. That was an emotional decision, based on the belief that "someone from outside" would see the problem more clearly. And when it did not work immediately, the reaction was equally emotional: "He is not one of us, he does not understand us."

A statistic I have checked many times: all 22 managers who have won the World Cup shared the nationality of their players. No exceptions. That is not a formal rule. It is just a historical fact. But it says something about the nature of international football: the World Cup is not just a tournament. It is a contest of identity. And when you hand your team to a foreigner, you accept a risk other nations do not.

This does not mean Tuchel cannot succeed. It only means he is fighting a historical trend. And in a tournament where every small detail can decide, fighting history is a disadvantage.

But Euro 2028 is different. The Euros do not carry the same historical pressure as the World Cup. The Euros are hosted at home. And the Euros may be a tournament Tuchel can win without having to beat every prejudice.

That is why I say Euro 2028 is England's real opportunity. Not because they will have a better squad. But because they will have a tournament with lower psychological pressure. And sometimes, lower psychological pressure is all you need.

I have heard many say Tuchel was hired only to win. That is clearly absurd. No one can be hired only to win the World Cup. Football does not work that way. Even the strongest teams need luck. Even the best managers need time.

And that is England's problem. They do not give anyone enough time. They did not give Southgate enough time, even though he brought them closest in decades. They will not give Tuchel enough time, unless he does something miraculous in the next 20 months.

But the "system" this piece's title refers to is not a tactical system. It is England's belief system — one shaped by decades of failure, and by a media culture that always needs someone to blame.

I have seen this system at work for years. I have seen it create stories, villains, tragedies. And I have seen it repeat itself. Southgate was its victim. Tuchel is its next. And the next victim after him will be someone else.

But one thing I have learned in 25 years in this trade: what the media creates, the media can destroy. And sometimes, the only thing needed to change a story is one person willing to tell it differently.

I do not know whether Tuchel can win Euro 2028. Nobody knows. But I know one thing: if England fail, they will blame the manager again. And if England succeed, they will say it was down to the players. That is how the system works. And that is why the system, not Tuchel, is the real problem.

In football, nothing is permanent — not even the promises made in front of cameras. But the silences always remain. And the silences in those forty minutes at Wembley, in the forty minutes England stopped playing football, will be remembered longer than any argument about substitutions.

Now, when I look back at that semi-final, what I see is not Thomas Tuchel's failure. It is the failure of a football culture that has forgotten how to keep the ball. And sometimes, the greatest failure is not failing to achieve what you want. It is not understanding why you failed to achieve it.

England have 20 months. That is time to prepare for Euro 2028. Time to repair what is broken. Or time to prepare for a new cycle of failure.

But football waits for no one. And the system never changes itself. We hunt news, but really we hunt people's dreams. And England's dream — the dream of a major trophy after more than half a century — is still waiting, as it has waited since 2026.

That is the unfinished story. And I, as a reporter of international football, will keep following it from Shanghai, through bulletins, through numbers, through the silences between calls. Because in football, the most important thing is not what is said. It is what nobody dares to say.

And what nobody dares to say about England right now is this: they have a squad good enough to win Euro 2028. But they do not have a system mature enough to let it happen.

Thomas Tuchel knows this. Gareth Southgate knows this. And anyone who truly understands football — not the ones who only talk on radio — knows this.

The problem is: the system does not listen.

The system only talks. And the system talks very loudly.

When you place a manager in a position where every decision is scrutinised under the magnifying glass of decades of expectation, you do not create an environment for success. You create an environment for fear. And fear is what I saw in those forty minutes at Wembley. Not the substitutions. Not the tactics. Fear.

Forty minutes. A period long enough to lose a match. But also short enough to learn a lesson. The question is: does England want to learn?

As for me, I will be here, in Shanghai, still watching. Because that is my job. And because football, wherever you come from, whoever you write for, is always a story not yet finished.

A contract is never the end. It is an open letter about the future.

And England's future, if they dare to open that letter and read it, could be brighter than they think. But they must read it before it is torn up by those who never wanted them to succeed.