I witnessed Jude Bellingham’s stunning overhead kick live in Gelsenkirchen as England kept their Euro 2024 hopes alive - is football finally coming home?

When I received notification from Uefa back in November that I had been partially successful with my initial ticket application for the prestigious tournament, no one could have predicted the resulting fear, despondency, chaos and utter elation that only 90 minutes - or in this special case, 120 - of football can bring.

The pure luck of the draw.

With Uefa’s balloting system, you either receive all, some or none of the tickets that are applied for. I had applied for multiple games across Germany. Group stages and the knock-outs. From Munich to Berlin. Cologne to Dortmund.

Millions had missed out on tickets. So even though it was just the one game I’d be going to - the winner of group C versus third place in groups D, E or F at the Arena AufSchalke in Gelsenkirchen - I was ecstatic. So was my girlfriend’s dad, Ray. Despite the generational age gap, it had been a lifelong dream for us both. To watch a football game at a major international tournament abroad.

Tickets locked in. Flights and accommodation - Dusseldorf would be our base - swiftly booked.

Next came the actual draw, in December, of which teams would be playing who, where and when. For us, obviously, all eyes were on England, willing Gianluigi Buffon, the former World Cup winning goalkeeper with Italy, who was in charge of placing the top seeded teams, to scoop Gareth Southgate’s side out of the bowl second.

Hosts Germany were already assigned into group A before Buffon’s hands pulled out Spain to go into group B.

Group C was next. A one in four shot. England, France, Belgium and Portugal all had the chance to enter this pool - the winner of which we would be watching live in seven months’ time.

Buffon’s ungloved hand reached into the bowl to grab a ball. The ball was carefully unscrewed to reveal a piece of paper which the former Juventus star unfurled towards the Hamburg television cameras. The people in attendance there in Germany probably heard our screeches of delight across the North Sea before Buffon had the chance to bellow: “England.”

That lifelong dream had magnified. Not only would we be watching an international football game at a major tournament abroad. But there was a distinct possibility it would be England. As long as they finished top ahead of Serbia, Denmark and Slovenia.

The months turned to days. The days into hours. The excitement - was excitement or nerves? - was building. Euro 2024 was finally upon us.

Germany produced a statement win over Scotland in the opening game in Munich, while a youthful Spanish team full of flair comfortably beat Croatia.

Suddenly it was England’s turn. A day at work at the rugby covering Dewsbury Rams versus York Knights enabled me to focus my attention elsewhere momentarily before being able to settle in on the sofa in the comfort of my own home to see the Three Lions roar to victory over Serbia.

Well, that’s what I thought would happen after Bellingham rose highest in the box to connect with Bakayo Saka’s teasing cross early on to give England an early lead.

It was a lead that they failed to extend but, importantly, they were able to protect. Something they couldn’t do against Denmark in the second group stage game. A win - instead of the resulting, and uninspiring, 1-1 draw - would have meant they topped the group.

A five-day nervous wait ensued for the final group game against Slovenia in Cologne. Another disappointing draw - this time a drab 0-0 stalemate - proved enough to progress into the last-16 as group winners.

And winners mean grinners. Especially for two lads from West Yorkshire.

Those smiles were still fixed despite the ridiculous 4am pick-up time ahead of the drive to Manchester Airport on the Thursday, the first leg of our England versus Slovakia trip.

It meant we practically had a first full day in Dusseldorf, one of the ten host cities of the tournament. There was a gentle buzz around the fan park by the imposing Rhine River, while the drinks were flowing in the Old Town.

And, unsurprisingly, the atmosphere built as the days went on. On the Friday, despite this being the third visit to Dusseldorf in five years, we took the opportunity to do a bit of cultural sightseeing, including riding up to the top of the famous Rhine Tower, which provides spectacular views over the city, as well as taking a stroll down the picturesque Konigsallee, a landscaped canal surrounded either side by luxurious and fashionable retail stores.

Saturday brought the curtain-raiser to the last-16 ties. Switzerland versus Italy in Berlin followed by Germany and Denmark in nearby Dortmund. The fan park was rammed. Every seat at every outside bar taken.

It was no surprise. The heat was blistering. A sea of white decorated the city as Germany and England fans mixed with each other on the streets. Peaceful. Not quite. Jovial. Definitely. The cacophony of noise was infectious.

That noise exploded further after Germany secured their place in the quarter finals with a 2-0 victory, a game momentarily delayed due to a thunderstorm. That very same downpour made its way to Dusseldorf as fans took to the streets at midnight, local time, to dance in the rain.

Would there be similar scenes in Gelsenkirchen in less than 24 hours’ time?

The day had finally arrived. Watching England abroad at a major tournament for the very first time. That unsettling feeling you get in your stomach, perhaps akin to those moments before a job interview or a first date, had made itself known.

We made the relatively stress-free train journey in the late morning. But after stops at Duisburg and Essen, more England fans had crowded the service. There were even more in the main square outside the station, as supporters in white, red and blue sang songs of Phil Foden being on fire and Saka running down the wing.

A swift drink in Gelsenkirchen’s fan park followed before making the 15-minute tram ride to the Arena AufShalke on the northern outskirts of the city.

The stadium’s doors opened at 3pm, a full three hours before the 6pm kick off. We arrived shortly after 3pm as we wanted to soak in the atmosphere. Another pint followed. Just to ease the nerves.

I love sport. I love covering Championship rugby league matches for our West Yorkshire sides - Wakefield Trinity, Dewsbury Rams, Batley Bulldogs, Halifax Panthers and Featherstone Rovers. I’m sure many other sport lovers will agree that the walk from when you enter through the turnstile to your seat, or place on the terrace, is embraced with a mix of trepidation and excitement of what is to come.

But as I walked up to the top tier of the North corner stand and found my seat which presented an extraordinary view over the pitch, something hit me. A realisation. I was here. Millions would be watching on their televisions in England and around the globe, but I was about to experience it first-hand.

The game went by in a blur. Blink and you miss it. Months of waiting and 90 excruciating minutes came and went.

Fortunately, for England, for Gareth Southgate and for the thousands inside the stadium, including myself and Ray, six more minutes were added.

They were needed. England, for arguably the fourth game in succession at this tournament, had been second best and had not been able to recover from Ivan Schranz’s 25th minute opener for Slovakia.

Some fans voted with their feet and left. Give them another 66 minutes and they would not score, seemed to be the cry, as the levels of frustrations, which grew and grew as the game went on, within the ground reached breaking point.

But when you have a certain 21-year-old in your ranks, who has just won the Champions League and La Liga double in his first season at Real Madrid, then there is always hope. Always. England’s latest superstar.

Had I given up hope? Not fully. Anything can happen. Even a miraculous, sensational overhead kick from that man Bellingham with barely 80 seconds remaining.

Cue pandemonium. Cue hugs. Cue hugs with strangers.

What have I just witnessed?

Quite possibly a majestic goal which may well be talked about in the same bracket as David Platt at Italia 90 and Gazza at Euro 96. Especially if England go onto win this thing.

Revitalised, Southgate’s Three Lions came out roaring in extra time. Kane headed home within a minute of the additional 30-minute period to establish a superiority that never looked likely before holding on for a famous victory.

A famous victory, including that extraordinary Bellingham goal, where I can say: “I was there.”

I am back home in England now. Hopefully football will soon be following.