The waitress at our hotel here in Dubrovnik was so distracted by the prospect of last night’s England v Croatia match she walked into a wall rather than through a nearby door while carrying our supper in. The collision sent food and crockery flying, minutes before kick-off, but she was fine, and it was understandable.

Any notions that Croatia, already qualified, wouldn’t be up for this final match were quickly set aside when we turned on the TV on Monday. Even without speaking a word of Croatian, I could still understand the universal language of footballing hype in the trailers for last night’s live coverage; fast-cut clips of Croatian players, wearing their familiar checkerboard red and white strip, scoring some of the goals – and making some of the tackles – which had propelled them to the top of their table.

There were, inevitably, shots of the infamous Robinson bobble from the last meeting of Croatia and England – which the Croats won 2-0. Then helicopter images of the imposing Wembley stadium, and a deep voiceover to tell this small nation it was going into the lion’s den, with an outside chance of putting a footballing superpower out the competition.

And then they did.

Mrs Tosh and I, watching in the hotel lounge with some of its staff, were quietly hoping England would go through. It was hard not to feel deep sympathy for England goalie Scott Carson as he conceded a first goal so poor most park teams would be holding an inquest. Being a sucker for a big Hollywood ending, I hoped Becks would score the winner as he did a few years back against Greece (to win qualification, in extra time, to the same tournament). 

But it was also difficult not to be beguiled by a Croatian side which, against the odds (it has a population of 4.5m, smaller than Scotland), was playing some pacy, attractive and tactically smart counter-attacking football. Midway through the first half they’d attacked twice, and scored twice.

Later, as the third and winning goal flew in a thousand miles away in London, it was impossible not to smile as our hapless waitress squealed, and a manager sank to his knees with delight. It was clear right then their team – a side credited with putting Croatia on the map after the Balkans war of the 1990s – was going to delight them again. 

Having played England out, the team returned to Zagreb, and a heroes’ welcome, in the early morning. The newspapers’ front pages are celebratory today.

By comparison, watching England’s unhappy post mortem of the qualification fiasco from afar, it all seems a little out of perspective. Nobody’s dead. We’re holidaying in a city where, despite some careful restoration, there are still the physical scars of bitter (real) conflict only a few years ago, making the Sky News talk of “disaster” sound as absurd as it is.

But there are problems. Poor old Steve McClaren, nervously glugging bottle after bottle of water in the London rain (little wonder he locked himself in the toilet during the Israel game), was clearly out his depth, and England might have to look overseas to find someone capable of moulding a decent squad of players into a team. It also seems inevitable the Premiership will have to consider whether its huge global TV success might be harmed by a quota on foreign players (clue: yes) thus forcing it to decide what matters most.

It’s no coincidence, after all, that teams with strong domestic representation in their home leagues – France, Italy, Portugal, the Netherlands - seem to have deeper quality in their squads (not necessarily betterfirst XIs) than the two with lots of imports – England and Spain – which means they cope better with gruelling international competition.

Finally, I suspect there’s a problem, UK-wide, just with the simplistic way we talk about the game. But that’s another post.

All this will take years to fix. In the meantime, I’m sorry England won’t be there next summer. Even moreso that Scotland won’t make it either. And I’m not sure I can be bothered with diddy home internationals as a distraction; not while the continent’s best sides get on with it elsewhere.

But after the double footballing disappointment of the last few days, it’s nice to be in a place celebrating some success this morning. I think I know, now, who I’ll be looking out for next summer in Austria and Switzerland. We just hope the hotel staff just take nights off when Croatia are playing, for the sake of their careers - and their guests’ safety. 

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