Mostly,though,the English diaspora were out in force,cheering when Lauren James was introduced after half-time,booing in unison when Spain were awarded a penalty and exploding into gleeful whoops when Mary Earps saved Jenni Hermoso’s spot-kick. Wiegman barely moved the entire time.

A Mexican wave did the rounds as Alex Greenwood’s head was wrapped in a bandage,and as regular time ticked down screams of “shoot!” rang out around Stadium Australia.

Just shy of two million have attended 64 matches in the past month. It is about half a million more than projected,which is a way of saying that this World Cup has been even more successful than hoped.

That is the numerical definition,but there is another less contingent on figures. This World Cup has revealed every Colombian living in Australia,made known every Japanese,made us all feel things for Haiti and Jamaica and Morocco.

That the players were women and not men meant that the record crowds and TV metrics marked a moment in time for the people in suits who control the cash and other important things above our pay grades.

But the actual moments themselves were just a lot of people,from different parts of the world,coming together to watch good football – and the odd massacre.

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