THERE was a clear distinction between the way my husband and I viewed the England/Italy football match.

My husband wanted England to win at any price.

I also wanted them to win but only if they deserved it. Which, let’s face it, they didn’t. So he was bitterly disappointed by the outcome of the penalty shoot-out while I privately thought justice had probably been done.

Was this difference about gender? A sign of traditional stereotypes that say men are more competitive while women prefer fair play?

Or was it just that one of us is a true fan of the game (him) and the other is someone who enjoys the occasional dabble before losing interest until the next big tournament comes along (me)?

Or perhaps it was just a sign of the uneasy relationship I’ve always enjoyed with sporting prowess.

As in, I’ve never had any.

I was comically bad at PE and always last in any race – except one. I once won a 25-metre butterfly race at a swimming gala.

Only I didn’t actually win it.

Another girl beat me but it was later realised that she was in the wrong age group.

So I took home the trophy which was nice but it was something of a hollow victory. Hence I wanted England to win decisively – or not at all.

My own son had to learn his first important sporting lesson this week.

It was sports day at his pre-school and he had his first taste of sporting humiliation after coming last in the hoop race.

It wasn’t his running skill that was lacking, more the fact that he chose to stop halfway round to have a look around and adjust his shorts.

“Well done,” I shrieked excitedly as I greeted him at the finish line. I was so proud.

He looked at me as if I was mad.

“But Mummy,” he said puzzled. “I didn’t run very fast.”

Perhaps the most honest answer would have been, “No, you didn’t and you might have won if you’d kept your mind on the job.”

Instead I said, “That doesn’t matter.

You did your best.”

And there it was – a neat definition of the English psyche and why England players lack the killer instinct. Passed, instinctively, from mother to son.

So if England can’t win don’t blame the players, the coach or the manager.

Blame their mums.