My son’s reaction to the World Cup shows what the Lionesses have achieved

We lost. It hurts. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

But here’s the thing – and I’m trying hard not to sound contrite here – really, it’s far, far more important to learn how to lose than to win, isn’t it?

As humans, we spend most of our lives not winning things. Fortunately, as a nation – in a sporting context – we’re used to it.

Reaching a World Cup final is more than we could have expected. No senior England football team has reached a World Cup final in 57 years. That means the majority of the population has never seen an England side walk out on the pitch for a World Cup final.

Watching a World Cup final is essentially a snapshot of human life shrunk down into a severely uncomfortable 90-minute petri dish experiment.

The highs and lows border on unbearable: the almost moments, the pain, the passion, the drama, the magic, the fire, the ecstasy. If that’s not a metaphor for life, then I don’t know what is.

I’ve thought long and hard about the impact of this Fifa Women’s World Cup. I’ve mulled over the lasting impact on women and girls – the inspirational focus, the humble approach of manager Sarina Wiegman, the work ethic, the legacy they are (still) building.

The Lionesses have already achieved so much for the game, and for women’s rights more widely. Their triumph in Europe last year was a massive boost to the sport in terms of profile and participation, with the number of registered players and WSL attendance figures leaping as a result. The team then campaigned successfully for girls in England to get equal access to school sport, securing a government commitment of £600m in funding.

This is what “legacy” means.

On the flip side, it would be remiss here to omit a nod to the chasm that has opened between the world of men’s and women’s football. Once upon a time, that chasm was skill-based. Now, it’s about very different qualities – resilience, adaptability and leaving egos at dressing room doors.

The focus on money in men’s football has begun to feel all-consuming. Premier League news seems dominated by pound signs rather than goals scored. The ever-increasing influence and draw towards the Middle East for the top male footballers is surely a great big flashing red warning signal for the sport. The dollar sign is now clearly king. But that’s a whole other chapter in football’s history.

So when the tears and commiseration for the Lionesses start to fade away, what’s left?

Well, let’s be honest – it’s no exaggeration to say we have witnessed the most significant moment English women’s sport has ever seen. The shift in the perception of women’s football here has been stratospheric.

This World Cup has seen a collection of supremely talented women competing from all corners of the planet. It’s seen the silencing of female-football sceptics, and the growth of a global audience of spectators. It’s produced magic, heartbreak and excitement.

It has been well documented that even before the Lionesses reached the World Cup final, they had already begun the creation of a wonderful legacy. But while watching today’s final, what struck me more than anything wasn’t my nine-year-old daughter’s reaction to the match. It was my 11-year-old son’s.

They both love football. They both play for local grassroots teams. They both watch Spurs playing Premier League games. The passion is there – it’s equal: the love of football courses through their veins.

But rather than being struck by my daughter’s excitement and anticipation, what hit me was that my son watched the match – in fact, the entire tournament – with a sincere and enduring passion for a sport he loves. He was compelled by the matches, consumed by them. To him, it’s football. The game he loves.

The legacy our Lionesses have created isn’t just about inspiring women and girls. It’s also about the next generation of boys witnessing it all. True equality is when gender biases evaporate; when our eyes and ears are blind to differences.

In sporting terms, it’s hard to celebrate a loss. But we can and should celebrate the achievements of our Lionesses. There will be boys and men who, like my son, will move forward from this moment with an entirely different perception of women’s sport.

And that is the legacy.

So from me, and from millions of other women, we thank you, Lionesses. What you have delivered is far, far more than a shiny trophy: it’s validation. It’s a beautiful lesson in humility and perseverance. Women will forever be grateful for the work you have put in. Win or lose, you will remain heroes for all of us.