France arrived at a semi-final on Bastille Day with the Golden Boot leader up front and left with nothing, which is a very specific kind of national holiday. Mikel Oyarzabal converted a twenty second minute penalty, Pedro Porro strolled in unmarked on fifty eight, and that was the whole story. Spain took two shots on target and scored twice. France took three and scored none. You can talk tactics for an hour, but that line is the match report.

The tape is unkind to Kylian Mbappe. Fifteen touches in the first half, the fewest of any forward on the pitch, and a sixty seventh minute chance deflected wide off Cucurella. He came in leading the tournament on eight goals and three assists and added nothing to either column, then picked up an eighty sixth minute yellow for charging into Unai Simon while the keeper was bending down to pick the ball up. That is not pressing. That is a man arguing with the fixture list. To his credit he stood in front of the cameras afterwards and took it: sloppy technically, first touches not good enough, and as captain I take all the responsibility. Correct on every count.

Spain, meanwhile, did the thing they have now done for thirty seven consecutive matches without losing: took the ball, kept it, and waited for you to get bored. Rodri and Fabian Ruiz were handed a three against two in midfield, which Mbappe himself flagged afterwards, and once you give Spain the middle of the pitch you have essentially agreed to the terms. Third straight tournament semi-final France have lost to this opponent. At what point does a pattern become a diagnosis.