Proper England? Maybe, but the Lionesses legacy can be something completely new | Emma John | OneFootball

You can understand why the Lionesses needed a new catchphrase. Three years ago, when they won the Euros at Wembley, they effectively retired: “It’s coming home.” So this tournament it’s all been about “proper England”, a mantra so versatile you can use it for just about anything that’s taken place during their Euro 2025 campaign.

Georgia Stanway drills one in from the edge of the penalty area? Proper England. Hannah Hampton makes a save with a bloodied wad up her nose? Proper England. Leah Williamson launches a Blue Peter badge? That’s proper England, that is.

It’s a relatable phrase because it seems to embody English football (including its fandom) so smartly, combining solid street slang with a sophisticated hint of irony. And the great thing is, no matter the result on Sunday, it will function perfectly for the denouement. Stealing a European Championship win from a better team at the last feasible moment is absolutely proper England. But then so is burgling your way to a major tournament final and being outplayed by Spain.

Hopefully the phrase will outlive the tournament – who knows, if England win it might even become one of those words of the year like “goblin mode” and “brain rot”. But the dictionary compilers might insist on a precise definition, which is currently hard to come by. My mate Becki told me she Googled “what does proper England mean?” last week and the video of Lucy Bronze explaining it left her more baffled than when she started.

Even the team itself isn’t agreed on the meaning. When Millie Bright first brought the phrase into public use in 2023, she was using it to describe England’s defending, a way of making the Lionesses harder to beat. For Bronze it’s a flashback to the days when England were underdogs, having “to dig out performances” against stronger opposition. Sarina Wiegman defines it as playing with purpose and moving the ball upfield.

More philosophical squad members equate it with togetherness (“We’ll work hard until we can’t run any more and stick together” – Alessia Russo) built on Brené Brown principles (“We’ve made ourselves very vulnerable” – Beth Mead). Or it might just be taking your lumps à la Hannah Hampton and leaving the field battered, bruised but united.

Proper England certainly seems easier to feel in your gut than interrogate in your brain. The term encompasses so much in so few syllables, thanks to the way it maps a footballing team identity on to an underlying national one. By evoking a self-image bristling with “d” words – doughty, dogged, determined – it appeals to a narrative deeply embedded in the English consciousness. This is a country that has sold itself the story of its tenacious fighting spirit for centuries, from Agincourt to Trafalgar, Balaclava to the Blitz.

There’s no doubt that has influenced and informed the way English fans regard, and talk about, their teams’ sporting campaigns. Meanwhile the national footballing identity long followed the same logic employed by monarchs and politicians past, defining the English way not by what it was as much as what it was not. It was not, heaven forfend, French or Spanish – nor was it German, Italian or South American. That cussed assertion frequently provided cover for any lack of flair and imagination, or a failure to adapt to more modern styles.

No England team need to adhere to self-perpetuating stereotypes, and women’s sport ought, surely, to be less defined by them. If the distinctive English football style, as David Goldblatt has described it, is “rough, honest, manly”, then female footballers denied a place within the wider development structure by the Football Association have the right to snub it entirely. The England women’s team deserve the space and licence to play with an entirely different mentality and style. They, after all, have the winning brand.

The men’s side have been working for the past decade to shed some of the less helpful (and more nebulous) concepts of “the English way”. Michael Owen was one of several former players consulted by Gareth Southgate as the then manager built up his blueprints of an “England DNA” for the entire FA pathway. Previous men’s sides had been shaped by the public’s outdated and sentimental expectation of their “bulldog” character, said Owen. “They wanted to see the players chasing everything, being physical, playing at 100mph and showing passion. But that wasn’t the way successful international teams played.”

Given the globalism of sport, the multiculturalism of the British isles, and the dual nationalities of many international athletes, the idea of what constitutes our national sporting identity is, in fact, entirely up for debate. Southgate, a big fan of the All Blacks’ methods, used a Kiwi consultant, Owen Eastwood, to help him reset the footballing culture. Terry Butcher’s bloodied bandage gave way to more relatable, contemporary visions of what playing for England might mean and look like.

Another All Blacks adviser – the mental skills coach Gilbert Enoka – has recently joined the England men’s cricket team, another manifestation of its New Zealand-led philosophy. It would be hard to argue that there was anything remotely “proper England” about Ben Stokes’s side in the Bazball era, which jettisoned the Keep Calm and Carry On mantra for a high-risk, all-flair style of play. Their mould-breaking methods have brought about some of the most dramatic victories and historic rearguards in their team’s history.

On a podcast last week, Hampton reflected on her side’s nerve-shredding route to the final. “I think it’s just the proper English way of doing things,” she said. “We like to keep all the fans on their toes.” But miraculous, last-minute turnarounds are a rarity in the England sporting canon. The Lionesses’ trademark unbeatability is transforming the English football legacy into something completely new. If that’s proper England, it’s proper exciting.

Header image: [Illustration: David Humphries/The Guardian]