I remember sitting in a pub during the 2018 World Cup, surrounded by fellow England fans who genuinely believed this time would be different. There was an electricity in the air that hadn't been present for decades, a sense that maybe, just maybe, football was finally coming home. Looking back now at England's soccer journey feels like tracing the plot of an epic novel - full of glorious highs, devastating lows, and moments that made you question everything you thought you knew about the beautiful game.

The story really begins with England's absolute dominance in the early days. We invented the modern game, for heaven's sake! The Football Association formed in 1863, and for nearly a century, we operated under the assumption that we were naturally superior. Then came the 1950 World Cup, where we suffered that infamous 1-0 loss to the United States - a team of part-timers who shouldn't have stood a chance. I've always found it fascinating how that single match shattered our illusion of invincibility and set the stage for decades of soul-searching. The 1966 World Cup victory remains our crowning achievement, that iconic Geoff Hurst hat-trick securing a 4-2 victory over West Germany at Wembley. My grandfather still talks about that day with tears in his eyes, describing how the entire nation seemed to collectively hold its breath during extra time.

What followed was what I call the "nearly years" - decades where we had talented squads but couldn't quite recapture that magic. The 1970s saw us fail to qualify for two major tournaments, while the 1980s gave us Maradona's "Hand of God" in 1986. I'll admit I'm still bitter about that one. The 1990s brought Gazza's tears and that heartbreaking penalty shootout loss to Germany in the Euro 96 semifinals. I was just a kid then, but I remember the absolute gut punch of watching Gareth Southgate's penalty saved. The irony isn't lost on me that the man who missed that crucial penalty would later become the manager to lead us to our first major tournament final in 55 years.

The early 2000s featured what commentators called the "Golden Generation" - Beckham, Gerrard, Lampard, Rooney - players who dominated at club level but never quite clicked internationally. We suffered three consecutive quarterfinal exits in major tournaments between 2002 and 2006, each more frustrating than the last. The 2010 World Cup was particularly dismal - a stagnant 0-0 draw with Algeria that had fans booing the team off the pitch. I recall thinking English football had hit rock bottom, that we'd become a mid-tier international side destined for mediocrity.

Then came the transformation under Gareth Southgate. When he was appointed in 2016, most people (myself included) were skeptical. But he systematically rebuilt the team's identity, focusing on youth development and changing the culture completely. The 2018 World Cup run to the semifinals felt like a revelation - that young, vibrant squad capturing the nation's imagination in a way we hadn't seen since 1996. The 2-1 victory over Tunisia in the opener, that dramatic penalty shootout win against Colombia (our first ever in a World Cup!), the 2-0 quarterfinal victory over Sweden - each match built belief. When Kieran Trippier curled in that free kick against Croatia in the fifth minute of the semifinal, I genuinely thought we were going to the final. The 2-1 loss in extra time was devastating, but different from previous heartbreaks - this time, it felt like the beginning of something rather than the end.

The Euro 2020 tournament (played in 2021 due to COVID) took things even further. That squad felt different - more resilient, more cohesive, with genuine world-class talent in players like Harry Kane and Raheem Sterling. Beating Germany 2-0 in the round of 16 felt symbolic, exorcising decades of demons. The 2-1 victory over Denmark in the semifinals, despite the controversial penalty decision, set up our first major tournament final since 1966. Watching Luke Shaw score in the second minute against Italy, I thought we were witnessing history. The 1-1 draw and eventual penalty shootout loss was absolutely crushing, but the progress was undeniable.

Which brings me to where we are now. Watching England's recent performances, I can't help but draw parallels to that reference about Converge and Ginebra taking 1-0 leads in their best-of-three series. Like those teams, England has built momentum, established early advantages, but the real test comes in maintaining that position and closing out when it matters most. We've seen England take early leads in tournaments recently, much like securing that crucial first victory in a series, but the follow-through has been the challenge. The question hanging over English football now is whether this generation can convert their promising positions into tangible silverware.

The current squad boasts incredible depth - according to Transfermarkt data, the combined market value of England's players exceeds €1.2 billion, making it the most valuable national team in world football. We have genuine superstars in Jude Bellingham (who's been phenomenal for Real Madrid), Phil Foden, Bukayo Saka, and Declan Rice. The talent is undeniable, but international football has taught me that talent alone doesn't win tournaments. It's about mentality, about handling pressure, about those crucial moments that define legacies.

Looking ahead to the 2024 European Championship, I'm cautiously optimistic but not naive. We have the players, we have the manager, and we've built the experience through recent tournaments. What we haven't done is get over that final hurdle. Much like a team holding a 1-0 series lead, the hardest part comes next - converting promise into achievement, potential into legacy. The rise of English football has been remarkable to witness, but the ultimate test of whether this era will be remembered as truly great or another chapter of "what could have been" rests on winning that elusive second major trophy. The foundation is there, the pieces are in place - now it's about finishing the job.