A sudden gust of wind whips around the Arena AufSchalke, a light drizzle has begun to fall and with 32 minutes on the clock, the match between England and Serbia is about to change course. It doesn’t feel that way in the moment. To be honest, you need to rewind the tape quite a few times to work it out. But in tight tournament games, the shifts of momentum and supremacy can be subtle, fleeting and almost invisible. And this particular shift begins with England’s man of the match, Jude Bellingham.

First, a little recap. Bellingham has deservedly put England ahead with a 13th-minute header, and with a third of the game played everything is going his way. Serbia, who can’t really defend that well, are defending deep, and thus forcing themselves to defend more. Harry Kane isn’t getting the ball at all, but as he will later explain this is essentially by design, stretching the pitch as much as he can so Bukayo Saka, Phil Foden and especially Bellingham can work their magic. The England press is hungry and organised, and even when they squander possession they invariably get it straight back.

On 32 minutes, Andrija Zivkovic gets the ball on the right, with Foden and Kieran Trippier cutting off his options. Sasa Lukic starts a run into the right channel, and Bellingham – his marker – sprints at full pelt for 10 yards to track the run, before realising that Lukic has sold him a dummy. Serbia work the ball through Lukic, out left and over the halfway line, enjoy their first spell of possession in the England half, which ends in a dangerous cross.

Why does this matter? Because 32 minutes is the last point of the evening when England will enjoy territorial dominance. The first line of the press drops back to just over halfway, and stays there for most of the game. Serbia will never again be as restricted on the ball. The barometer has shifted, and the fact that it occurs from a game situation rather than a set piece or break in play suggests that Gareth Southgate had very little to do with it. England have basically given up 15 yards of territory, and nobody has even noticed.

Of course this changes everything. England are now springing their attacks from deep within their own half, and so they invariably break down. Saka and Foden are 40 yards from their own goal, so no longer offer a threat running in behind. The out balls are harder to spot through a forest of bodies. In the first 30 minutes, Jordan Pickford will play 53% of his passes short. In the last hour, he will play 76% of his passes long.

Welcome to the precipice of international football, where the margins – and the breaks – can be exactly this fine. The expected goals tally for this match will be lower than in any of the 380 games in last season’s Premier League. Serbia will outshoot England by six shots to five. And of course, everybody will be utterly furious at the people they were predisposed to dislike.

Declan Rice does not have quite as good a game on the second viewing as he seemed to on the first. He sweeps up well and passes imperiously, but commits himself to a lot of balls that he doesn’t win, occasionally finds himself out of position with others forced to cover for him, perhaps still subconsciously playing the more expansive role he enjoys at Arsenal.

As the second half begins, Foden’s body language is becoming increasingly negative. He has already blown up at Kane for not tracking a marker, and now fumes at Trent Alexander-Arnold for not pressing quickly enough, and on 49 minutes, frustrated at his lack of action, tracks right back to the edge of his own area to get the ball.

This becomes a recurring theme. Alexander-Arnold gets himself into trouble when a simple sideways pass was on. Saka tries a hero dribble and loses the ball in his own half. Bellingham tries one flourish too many and does the same. Everyone is trying to do it all themselves. Meanwhile Serbia are beginning to play more directly, using the physicality of their front two. Their fans are getting louder. England suddenly look jittery.

On 55 minutes, England finally get some breathing space after Alexander-Arnold’s sumptuous long ball to Trippier allows them to get up the pitch. On 57 minutes, England are back under the cosh again when Alexander-Arnold’s sumptuous long ball to Kane goes astray and Serbia run it all the way back. This is basically Alexander-Arnold: a high-wire act, a player still learning on the job, a player built to gild a midfield, not control it.

Does Southgate react too late? If he imparts some tactical wisdom at the break, it’s not immediately in evidence. But while it’s fashionable to decry the lateness of his substitutions, here he seems to get them about right. England are winning and the malaise is collective, not individual. Conor Gallagher for Alexander-Arnold makes sense, given the amount of chasing England are having to do. Jarrod Bowen replaces Saka and almost immediately creates a chance for Kane.

The last 10 minutes are bitty and broken. Perhaps the most interesting aspect is identifying which England players are happy with 1-0 and which scent a breakaway second. Gallagher, Rice and Bellingham are happy knocking it around.

Meanwhile Kane is desperate for a goal, Bowen wants to make things happen and Kobbie Mainoo is chasing down everything that moves. In a way this confusion is Southgate’s England in microcosm, torn between protagonism and neutrality, between optimism and caution, the individual desire that generates leads and the collective consistency that keeps them.

And if there is a grand thesis here, then it is that in this respect the die is probably already cast. The contours of Gareth-ball are already set, the instincts and patterns hardwired, and a sunnier outlook or a reckless tactical plan is not going to change that. England are going to have spells of real promise and spells when they’re soaking up pressure, and are occasionally going to look sublime and occasionally going to look extremely passive, and the margin between the two is often going to be stupidly random. It will certainly be enough to compete, and almost certainly not be enough to win. Either way, we can’t say we weren’t warned.