English football is suffering from a major spinal disorder. The vertebral column is healthy in the middle, with the likes of Rio Ferdinand, Owen Hargreaves and Steven Gerrard reinforcing the thoracic and lumber spines. But unless every part of the spine is in full working order, it is impossible to function properly. The top and bottom - the cervical and the pelvic spine - are damaged almost beyond repair.
Yet they used to be some of the strongest parts. The goalkeeping in England was apparently second to none - the excellence of Peter Shilton and Ray Clemence was so indistinguishable that Ron Greenwood rotated them from game to game - and there has been a proud lineage of centre-forwards from Nat Lofthouse to Jimmy Greaves via Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer. And Michael Owen. Once he was the solution; now he's part of the problem. Owen's laughable miss just before half-time and Paul Robinson's howler for Germany's equaliser in England's defeat at Wembley tonight reflected the extent to which the spine has weakened at both ends.
Robinson looks an absolute mess, as he has been for the best part of 12 months since Gary Neville's farcical own-goal in Croatia (which, ironically, was not Robinson's fault at all). His basic shot-stopping is as good as ever but his judgement has gone; he has the disorientated air of a PC user trying to come to grips with a Mac for the first time, and Steve McClaren's decision to replace him with David James at half-time was more an act of mercy than a token friendly substitution.
In many ways, however, Owen is the greater concern. He reached the top of the mountain at the age of 18, in St Etienne on June 30 1998, but has been on a downward trajectory ever since. It is entirely legitimate to excuse this particular performance on the grounds of rust, but we no longer know whether Owen will be fit for a sustained period or, even if he is, whether he will ever again reach the necessary standard, particularly on the speedgun, to play alongside Wayne Rooney at this level.
England desperately need him to do so, because the alternatives are non-existent. Alan Smith had perhaps his best game for his country tonight, but essentially he is a Newcastle midfielder and, as with his admirable performance in Manchester United's 7-1 win over Roma last season, it would be unwise to presume this was anything more than a zesty one-off. Smith, like Andy Johnson, Darren Bent and Jermain Defoe, will forever be stuck on the mezzanine between Premiership-class and international-class.
The same applies to the goalkeepers. James, outstanding for Portsmouth for so long, went unpunished late on for the sort of scatterbrained flap that he could have trademarked a decade ago, while Scott Carson and the injured Ben Foster are unproven.
These weakeness meant that, even though England were the better side, and created all sorts of chances thanks to the fierce effervescence of their midfield, they ended up losing once again under McClaren, only this time against Germany's 'B' side. A Wembley defeat to Germany is becoming symbolic for failed England managers: it was the first of Graham Taylor's reign in 1991, and the last of Kevin Keegan's in 2000. McClaren is unlikely to resign in the toilet after this, as Keegan did, because he has neither Keegan's self-doubt nor his jerky knees. But he will know that the net is closing slowly, inexorably around him. It is surely a matter of when, rather than if, it fully ensnares him.
England have now won two and lost three of his last nine games, and more alarming than the defeat was the cowardly manner in which they ceded the initiative at the merest hint of hardship after Germany's fortuitous equaliser. It is not a state of affairs that this proud and hubristic football nation will contentedly acknowledge, but English football really is in dire need of a bit of backbone.
