The rain was on the inside.
Most of it came from grown men (and women), all tearfully realising that we are all still going to have to cling to Bobby Moore’s shinpads for a few more years if we want to see what true footballing glory looks like.
Even young Prince George, watching from the royal box with his parents, was off his seat in ecstasy
The buoyed-up, incredulous euphoria which had gripped this stadium for so much of a deafening Euro 2020 final had been ground to a mulch of what-iffery and desolation
And to be despatched by the fickle gods of the penalty shoot-out. They are not, and never have been, England fans, as poor Gareth Southgate knows horribly well. His men could hold their heads high but most did not feel inclined to do so. Who can blame them?