‘I saw England rise from the dead at the Euros – this is what it feels like’

The anticipation was palpable as we boarded the flight from Manchester to Cologne, the air tinged with the airport’s finest beer and the hum of the engines echoing the buzz of excitement coursing through my veins. England were set to face Slovakia in the first round of Euro 2024 qualifying, and I, along with thousands of my compatriots, were ready to witness a weekend to remember.

The plane was decked out in red and white jerseys, a Ryanair flight bustling with support for the Three Lions. Amid the clink of plastic cups and murmurs of intense strategic discussions from those on board, I felt a sense of togetherness that transcended the usual anonymity of air travel.

Arriving in Germany, the air in Cologne felt thick with summer heat and the scent of bubbling optimism. My father, 12 others and I stayed in Essen, a 15-minute drive from the Arena AufSchalke that loomed on the horizon, a beacon of modernity against a backdrop of concrete jungle.

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Fans gathered in Düsseldorf, Dortmund and Essen, with Gelsenkirchen playing host to this eagerly awaited game. England fans were interviewed live on Sky Sports, with Gareth Southgate praised by some and ridiculed by others. I gave insights from my advanced knowledge of the game, but more importantly we had a much-anticipated itinerary ahead of us; sausage and beer, and then we followed the scent of those Stauder double pinters, not quite realising that we were live on TV at home.

In a sea of ​​colour and chants, the melody of football fever echoed through the city, we marched from bar to bar, if you weren’t already drenched in beer, consider yourself lucky. Hours of preparation had led up to these moments, English accents mingling with those of the rest of Europe, united by a common love of the game.

Before heading to the stadium, I joined a crowd of supporters, the atmosphere was electric, charged with the energy of national unity. Pints ​​of crisp Bavarian beer were raised in countless toasts, each sip a tribute to the potential of our team.

Bellingham, Foden and Stones were all cheered on by all sides. Songs of old victories and near-defeats filled the air, creating an aural tapestry of English football folklore. Here, under the open sky, I felt the pulse of our nation’s spirit. A feeling that words cannot even describe. A feeling that everyone should experience at least once in their life.

As the Arena AufSchalke came into view there was a different feeling amongst the England fans, the game was close, the starting line-up had been announced and memories of past disappointments were suffocating those around, based on the team’s recent lacklustre performances not filling any of us with confidence.

The stadium was lit up with its iconic inflatable panels, glowing in the twilight, a modern coliseum ready to host a game that meant the world to every person present. Security checks were swift and soon I was inside, noise, that’s all I can say, noise, like nothing I’d ever heard before, the roar of the red and white festival a living entity, ebbing and flowing with the rhythms of pre-match anticipation.

The rituals of the Concourse had begun. Kick-off was now near, the quarter-finals were at hand, what had been a dream until now had become reality. The teams came out, and with it came an explosion of noise, the culmination of weeks of anticipation. The England fans sang the national anthem loud and proud as ever.

We were underway, England’s attack started slowly, every pass, every tackle, every decision was wrong, something wasn’t working, and then… just as Slovakia broke forward on the counter-attack, Schranz received the ball high up the England half, a quick exchange of passes with his team-mate and he was one-on-one with Pickford.

My greatest fear had arrived, England had suffered a defeat, the scenario I had been dreading had arrived to say hello. Nails were bitten, and instructions were again shouted from the 50,000 English people in sight. This was the emotional spectrum of football fans on full display.

For the first time since 1986, England managed a half of football without a shot on target, a statistic I didn’t think was possible for this calibre of player. The Slovaks were disciplined and resilient, they did their job with equal vigour, making the match an exciting contest.

The minutes ticked by, it felt like we had run out of time, the tension was almost unbearable. The best of the best were playing for my country, but why wasn’t it working? Fans began to leave the stadium as the fourth official announced that there would be six minutes of injury time, six minutes to save our tournament.

There was a minute of added time remaining. Walker made a deep pass into the Slovak half… a missile was launched into the air, along with it the desperate hopes and prayers of millions watching. Guehi rose, connected and sent the ball further wide, and time stood still.

Then came a youngster with maturity and skill beyond his years, a Birmingham-born bicycle kicker brought to the fore in Gelsenkirchen. In the dying moments of the game, Jude Bellingham equalised for his country, breaking the hearts of the Slovaks who had watched their team defend a 1-0 lead for most of this agonisingly tight game.

Words can’t begin to describe the celebration that was on display, pure ecstasy, a touch of class from who else, right? The stadium erupted as Bellingham performed their iconic celebration. Strangers hugged, tears of joy mixed with the sweat of anticipation, and in that moment, we were one.

Jude Bellingham had taken his country to extra time in a game where they simply weren’t good enough. The England fans were deafening during the quick break. Once again we were on our way, this time with more hope and belief than ever before, you could sense a sense of excitement about the players now, a momentum that hadn’t been there 20 minutes earlier.

A free kick was taken at pace by Palmer. The ball fell to Eberechi Eze who fired into the path of fellow major tournament debutant Ivan Toney, the Brentford man towered above the Slovak defence and the ball was deflected and found venom at the far post.

Harry Kane was there, Kane had done it, England had done it, somehow, somehow they had turned this game on its head. The captain had won it for his country, and for me, whose dream was to see England play in a major tournament.

I’ve seen a lot of atmospheres watching football, but this will never be topped, all we had to do was hold on and get to the final whistle. And we did. England were through to the quarter-finals of Euro 2024.

Victory belonged to us that night. Sweet Caroline echoed after the final whistle; a song known to literally everyone who has ever left my country. Proud beyond belief. And back in Essen, the celebrations continued into the night.

The following evening I headed to the airport, my heart still pounding with the rhythm of the previous night’s chants. The flight back to Manchester was smoother, the exhaustion of the celebration giving way to a quiet satisfaction. We had come, we had seen, and we had conquered. The memory of this departure, this journey, will be a cherished chapter in the story of my life.

Germany were gracious hosts, their hospitality and passion for the game left a lasting impression. When the plane touched down in Manchester, I felt a renewed sense of pride and belonging. Euro 2024 gave us more than just a football match; it gave us a story, a memory, a moment in time where I stood alongside thousands of my compatriots remembering the same reasons why we all fell in love with the beautiful game.

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