Why are the English so good at plucking defeat from the jaws of victory?

This weekend we have had two sporting contests in which English hopefuls offered so much only to let us down at the final hurdle. The first was the World Cup of Rugby Football in which England, against all the odds, reached the final. They had been playing rubbish rugby all the way up to the competition and, indeed, in the first round league system they lost to South Africa 36-0. But suddenly they came good. They scraped through to the quarter finals and there, against all expectations, they beat Australia - a complete turn up for the form book. In the semi finals they beat the hosts, France in another storming performance. But having reached the final they weren't quite good enough, losing again to South Africa but this time only 15-6.




The second example is perhaps even more stark. The wunderkind of the Formula 1 car racing world, England's Lewis Hamilton, in his first season at senior level, managed to amaze the racing world by, apparently, having a virtually unassailable lead in the World Championship with two races to go. He would have been the first racing driver ever to have won the world championship in his 'rookie' year. But he blew it. He blew it in China two weeks ago with a horrendous mistake and today in Brazil he blew it again - though in fairness part of the problem was the car.



Now in both these cases, fair minded critics might say that both the England rugby team and young Hamilton did far better than anyone ever expected them to but that's rational, objective logic. My passionate sporting heart says why do English sports persons and teams always fill us with so much expectation, bring us to the brink of near hysterical national pride....and then break our hearts. It happens every time!