WHY do we watch sport? We watch sport for days like Tuesday, when England beat Germany 2-0. 

Yet it wasn’t the victory itself that made it so special for all of us. Of course that was important, but it wasn’t everything. 

We watch sport for the same reasons we play it. We do it for enjoyment, for the sense of belonging, the feeling of being part of something bigger than just ourselves. 

Yes, we also do it because we love the feeling winning provides and being associated with winners — but for many of us, sport also teaches us how to lose as much as win, in life as much as in leisure.

Sport also allows camaraderie. Being in a team allows feelings of togetherness and communion with like-minded fanatics in a way we might not experience with others in our lives. 

We know life is tough. We can all attest to a challenging 18 months during this interminable pandemic, in which our character, resolution and capacity to endure have been sorely tested. 

So when the good days come around, as rare as they might be, we enjoy them, we embrace them, we savour them, for they are life-affirming. And this is where sport is second to none in providing such moments.

Magic Monday (or simply Monday to non-believers) saw two incredible games of football at Euro 2020. 

As a student of this sometimes maligned tournament, I can’t think of a more stunning succession of knock-out matches in the competition’s history than Spain beating a valiant Croatia 5-3 in extra-time, followed in quick succession by Switzerland trumping French brilliance and arrogance by triumphing on penalties after an incredible 3-3 draw. And that’s coming from someone who adores French flair while being intrigued by their propensity to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. 

Success is always sweeter when you’ve had difficult moments. Lows that can crush you so badly they leave you gasping for breath and struggling for articulacy. 

Defeats and blows so damaging they shape your past, influence the present and colour your future. In life as much as sport. 

Which is why the day England beat Germany 2-0 was one of the best days of my sporting life. 

I don’t say that lightly. Not when you consider the fact I’ve watched professional sport for more than 40 years. At a rough estimate I have probably been to nearly five thousand games of sport, or events of a sporting nature. 

Whether it be football, cricket or rugby union World Cups in this country, Europe, Asia or Australia, Champions League finals to non-league friendlies, Ashes Tours, world title boxing fights to amateurs at the York Hall, Wimbledon to the Derby and the Boat Race — you name it, I’ve probably seen it, either as a punter or a journalist. 

I’ve had some never-to-be-forgotten times with lifelong friends around the globe who love sport as much as I do, the only difference is they don’t write about it for a living. 

This pandemic has been cruel for so many reasons on so many levels. People dying is far removed from the irrelevance of sport, and as someone who lost an old schoolmate last year to Covid I wouldn’t dream of, nor entertain, disputing the fact sport, in the face of life and death, means less than nothing. 

However, even on a sporting level, Covid has been cruel because it has removed the essence of social contact so vital to sport. We, as fans, have been banned from attending live sport until recently. We’ve been forced to put friendships on hold. We’ve lost bonhomie and beers. Days out and the memories we make from them have been denied us. 

I’ve travelled the world watching the England football team and can list you decades of hurt — including plenty inflicted by Germany. So can my some of my friends.

It was a few of them that I caught up with before Tuesday’s match at Wembley. Old mates you know inside out, and they you. Loyal pals who’ve always been there for you in the bad times as much as the good. You know where you stand with loyal friends. Even the ones sadly no longer with us. The ones we raised a glass in honouring that afternoon. 

So when we met up in Camden Lock a good few hours before kick-off, old tales were exchanged as freely as hugs, scrapes, battle scars — and stories so uproariously funny you almost forgot to breathe when listening to their joyous retelling after all these years — it made me happy. It made us all happy. 

And when we all got to Wembley to attend England vs Germany in the flesh, the day seemed a continuation of the celebration. (Alas, I couldn’t possibly tell you how I got a face value ticket).

I won’t go into the match details here, you’ll know them inside out anyway. Suffice to say the atmosphere inside our national stadium was, even for an old cynic like me, simply incredible. 

At first I couldn’t put my finger on why the whole of Wembley felt and behaved like a massive away end. By that I mean every single person present took on the characteristics of an away fan — chanting, singing, cheering continually, constantly, frenetically, passionately, unconditionally for the whole 90 minutes.

The late goals helped, of course they did, propelling us to a famous win. As did Thomas Muller’s miss that finally convinced us the strange hold Germany had over England was finally over. But it was more than that. 

And then I realised. 

The sheer intensity of those celebrations were not only for Gareth Southgate and his boys and the outpouring of fervour that deservedly came from the long-awaited banishing of old foes. 

The celebrations were for us. All of us. 

It was light after darkness. It was love, it was happiness, it was relief, it was satisfaction, pure primaeval emotion that erupted after so much misery, uncertainty, despair and lack of excitement in our lives. It was deep, deep joy. 

The difference between life during those long dark nights of lockdown and what we all felt on Tuesday (across the country as much as at Wembley) was clear. We were no longer existing, we were living again. And my word, how good did it feel. 

That’s why I watch sport. For the sense of belonging, for the feeling of being part of something bigger than just ourselves. 

For days like Tuesday.

To the memory of Ben Ansell

PS What I’m watching: McEnroe at 60. It is rare for talent, success and charisma to blend effortlessly with acute self-awareness. When it does, the results are as spellbinding as they are uplifting. McEnroe is compelling company, with Sue Barker’s gentle probing the perfect vehicle to allow his mesmeric blazing honesty to shine. If you love sport, you’ll love this utterly superb documentary. If you don’t love sport, then I truly feel sorry for you. 

What I’m listening to: The Doors. LA Woman. With the 50th anniversary of the death of one of my musical heroes in Paris 50 years ago next week, it’s appropriate I’ve been playing Jim Morrison’s final Doors album. Recorded a few months before he died, it also brought to mind my pilgrimage to Pere Lachaise cemetery in Paris to find his grave on the morning of a France v England match at the Stade de France a long time ago. Someone once told me that the families of those in the graves that lay either side had complained about the number of visitors to Jim’s grave. The fact that Jim is still riling people from the afterlife is a strange kind of irony that appeals to me. As does his LA Woman album. Psychedelic rock at its finest.

What I’m reading: Michael Holding: Why We Kneel How We Rise. Powerful and compelling, I’ll be revisiting the themes he raised in this must-read book soon.