Every other year the strapline of the summer in England is always the same.
Keep the (profanity) ball. Keep the (profanity) ball. From Penzance to Carlisle, and all points in between, it has been a phrase religiously spat out in pubs and front rooms throughout pretty much every World Cup or European Championship since France '98.
At a major international tournament the sight of an Englishman under little pressure shanking the ball out of touch, while suave continental counterparts look on contemptuously as if a dog has encroached the pitch and cocked its leg, is about as sobering as it gets as a sports fan.