1966, Frank Lampard's ghost goal and the joy of Germany's World Cup suffering

How that made us giggle. And anyone claiming that they take no pleasure in another’s defeat should ask themselves this: what was their feeling when Costa Rica took the lead and for two glorious minutes it looked as though both Spain and Germany were heading home? 

If it was not one of the most memorable of World Cup moments then I would contend they cannot really count themselves as proper football fans. Sport is about winning and losing. And there can be real pleasure in defeat. Particularly someone else’s defeat. Particularly when it is the other lot. 

Loving England suffering is part of the definition of the Scottish, Irish and Welsh supporter. And fair enough: when you have been beaten by England as often as they have, when you have a wider history, then there is an inevitable enthusiasm for English setbacks, no matter who they are playing. 

It is the same with England and Germany. 1970, 1990, 1996, 2010: too often they have provided the conclusion to English ambition. Plus watching them depart a competition in which England still have an interest carries an added sense of reassurance; at least we don’t have to face that lot now. At least they can't stop us now.

But relief is only part of the reaction. How to explain the joy? In part, much of it is derived from its unexpectedness. For Germany it should never have come to this. Traditionally we all know they don’t mess around. Historically they get the job done. They qualify and then go deep into competitions. There is a respect at the heart of our disdain. A jealousy too. If only we could be more like the Germans. 

Not this time, however. In many ways this was the least German performance of all time. Which made it all the more delightful. Even though they lost their first game here, we still expected them to get the job done. Which, in a sense, they did. They beat Costa Rica. Their problem was Spain did not keep their part of the qualification bargain. Which makes things all the more hilarious. Germans losing because of results elsewhere: they have never before been a side dependent on permutations. 

But this is the second World Cup on the bounce when such assumptions have proven hollow. They won the thing eight years ago. They still had world champions like Mario Gotze, Thomas Muller and Manuel Neuer in their number this time round. Which is what made their discomfort, and the relentless inquiry, all the more riveting. Germans getting an early flight home? That is something to remember.

It is not entirely personal. Oh alright, some of it is. Seeing them complain about going out because technology did not spot that a ball had gone into touch makes you remember Frank Lampard’s ghost goal in Bloemfontein 12 years ago, a goal so far over the line it was practically in Botswana. 

And who knows what may have been 56 years ago had Var existed back then. Would Sir Geoff Hurst’s goal have counted? Would he have ever been knighted? Would 56 years of hurt actually be much, much more?

The fact is much of our antipathy to the Germans is based on our innate similarities. They like beer and sausages, they fetishise Christmas, like ours their football stadiums resound to formalised chanting. This is sibling rivalry. Their failures cheer largely because their success hurts so much. 

This is how close we are: we even borrow their phrase to explain our feelings in such circumstances. And there is no escaping the fact the best way to describe Thursday was as the very definition of schadenfreude.