The schadenfreude, unlike England goals, flew thick and fast, all around the world. "A throw-in was enough to instil the doubt and everlasting stench of defeat that always accompanies England," chortled Spain's El Pais, identifying an endemic element in England's fate and so encapsulating a pretty much universal sentiment. It didn't help that England reached this nadir three days after Brexit, making it a week when it felt like everyone lost something, even the winners.

It wasn't just us. Wallowing in defeat is a bit of an English speciality. "Clueless", "disgrace", "good riddance", read some of the Fleet Street headlines. "Out thought, out fought, out of Europe". "Shocking, pathetic, inept": that was Alan Shearer, a former captain, touted now as the next manager. We can't wait to see his Powerpoint presentation.

"We're so flipping good at self-doubt in this country," sighed former England cricketer David Lloyd, a rare example of an eternally optimistic Englishman, in 1997. At that time, some of his compatriots took it as reassurance that at least they were good at something.

But there was a darker side. The late Peter Roebuck always maintained that feral media inhibited the emergence of sportsmen and women in England to a degree it did not elsewhere in the world. You only had to look at the faces of the beaten English to know this; written there was anguish, of course, but also dread about what they knew would come next. But manager Roy Hodgson pre-empted one of the standard ghoulish set pieces, resigning before howling for his resignation could begin.

In this country, we have, if anything, a superiority complex when it comes to sport. Whether that works for good or evil, you can choose. But it also means we are  as intolerant of losers as England, we because we don't expect to lose, England because they do. These dispositions hold even in the face of facts: England's soccer team might be a laughing stock, but they have the Ashes and the wood over Australia at rugby right now.

Capitalism, it is said, needs losers. Even more so does sport, when you think about it. Every match begins in the near certainty that there will be one loser. In races, there will be more losers than winners. Over the course of a tournament, championship or season, all except one ends up losing. This means that losing is inevitable, and losers are plentiful and one day soon we all will be among them, and that includes you, Hawthorn.

A dozen or so years ago, Melbourne artist Martin Tighe produced a series of paintings and a sculpture that contemplated the psychology of losing. In them, there are always two losers and they are in the foreground, and one distant winner, whose attitude is more one of relief not to have lost than exultation to have won. At some level, when we, the world, rejoices in wretched England's misery, what we are saying is that we love their losing because it means we didn't lose, not this time, not on that scale. That, I think, is why we so dwell on it so gleefully.

Winning needs no explanation, says an old proverb, and losing has no alibi. Victory, at heart, means everything went to plan. Defeat means something failed, a more intriguing outcome. No one ever asks, where did it it all go right? Synthesising media coverage of the Euros this week, Iceland's single virtue was togetherness. That, evidently, was all it took to beat England. But England had every imaginable flaw – talent, temperament, tactics – and they each got their own page. "Winning is a simple emotion," Tighe said when he had finished his sculpture. "Defeat is a complex emotion."

The winning feeling tends to be fleeting, a moment somewhere along the spectrum between relief not to have lost and realisation that you are going to have to do it all again, and soon. Iceland already have had to put their dollop of winning back in the fridge because on Monday morning (Melbourne time), they front up to France in a quarter-final. "Is there anything in life so disenchanting as attainment," wrote the poet Robert Louis Stevenson.

Losing, by and large, lasts longer, generates stronger emotions, weighs more. Ask any AFL coach. Ask any St Kilda supporter. Ask the Collingwood players from 1970. Ask just about any gambler, and he will tell you the pain in losing outweighs the pleasure in winning. Ask any devotee of English soccer now.

Occasionally, there occurs an instance of noble, gallant, proud defeat, but they are rare, and sportspeople tend to disavow them anyway. Occasionally, there is unlucky defeat, but these also get filed away under, yes, but it was still defeat. Very occasionally, there is a contest you cannot lose. Iceland played one last Tuesday, and will have another this weekend.  England will never have that carefree luxury.

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