Wherever you stand on England’s performance in the 2026 World Cup – personally I believe that the chaps did rather well, especially after beating France to win the bronze medal – I think it’s time that the country had a conversation about football.

And I don’t mean an elevated discussion about the psychology of expectation management or the team’s emotional fitness, as explored in playwright James Graham’s brilliant sporting drama,Dear England.

I mean something more fundamental than that: should football really be our national sport?

I know it’s a challenging question, but just how many men spontaneously falling over do you have to see before you realise that something’s not quite kosher about the “beautiful game”?

If we had been witnessing the nonagenarian World Cup – with Zimmer frames instead of hydration breaks – then that would make sense. But instead we’ve watched scores of young men, allegedly in peak physical condition, falling over themselves at the slightest provocation.

Are they all suffering from labyrinthitis or cataplexy – or some undiagnosed muscular issue?

Of course, we know what’s wrong with them: they’re rolling around in apparent agony to game the system, until either the referee tells them to pull the other one – or, Ker-ching, they spring up having experienced the most startling recovery since Lazarus to promptly knock the ball into the back of the net at 100mph on the pip of the whistle.

And I don’t know about you, but this flagrant dishonesty doesn’t sit well with me. It’s not just rule-breaking, it’s also against the spirit of the game, or it should be.

Because closer-to-home it’s not unlike what thousands of benefits cheats do every time they exaggerate a symptom or overstate a need in order to get a bigger handout.

But benefits cheats aren’t our supposed national heroes. Not yet anyhow.

And that’s the problem. These guys are, and as far as I can see they’re teaching our youngsters that cheating is the way to win in life.

Whereas what they should be doing is picking themselves up and showing resilience and fortitude – the sorts of stoic attributes you need to actually succeed, or if a 100,000 angry Russians are bearing down upon you. So should football really enjoy its privileged status in our national consciousness?

Granted, it’s a major employer. It offers social mobility, and it even inspires some people to get off the sofa – though not as many as it should.

But when you consider the often aggressive or loutish way that football supporters behave when they watch games during major tournaments as compared to fans of rugby, tennis or, say, cricket, you have to ask: is football really that good for us?

What if, instead, cricket were our national sport? What would it be like if Lord’s were the totemic home of our national sport, not Wembley? How good would that be for us and our children?

Because let’s make no bones about it: cricket is in a different league from football.

When it comes to the young, cricket is the sport that keeps on giving. It teaches patience – a perfect foil for our immediate, online society.

It teaches self-discipline and fortitude – whether it’s batting, bowling or all that standing around (fielding) while having to remain utterly focused. It teaches lessons in success and failure in a conspicuously individualised fashion, whereas in football, for instance, there’s only one goalkeeper.

It’s a sport where you can be out at the drop of a hat and there’s no hiding it. It also has heaps of actual jeopardy in the form of a very hard and fast-moving leather and wooden ball, which will certainly give you something to roll around on the floor about.

Even ignoring the fact that it’s often played on the sorts of village greens that chocolate tins were invented for, or that its participants stop for tea at half-time washed down with actual tea or squash (the original hydration break), the point is that cricket inculcates what are probably a broader range of more useful and socially beneficial qualities and attitudes in those involved.

It’s also a sport – notwithstanding the occasional aberrations like the infamous Ashes “Bodyline” series in the 1930s – that appears to be played with more integrity and honestly.

True, sledging exists and I suspect players don’t “walk” as they once did in the days of WG Grace, but, by and large, cricket’s professionals offer better role models than the “roll models” of football.

What’s more, its supporters clap or cheer instead of baying like demented animals. Nor do they sing abuse at the referee or boo or hiss at players.

So, which world do you prefer? I know my choice. England would be a better and greener land if cricket were our national sport. Howzat!