It’s day 19 in the Euro 2024 Haus. Cristiano Ronaldo has finally pared his entire on-field performance down to a series of viral reaction memes. German police are to be given tasers and sniper rifles to deal with a raised threat of beaming, selfie-grabbing children whose parents need to have a look at themselves. And a formal investigation is under way into whether Jude Bellingham grabbing his imaginary balls really is a private joke among his friends or an insult to Slovakian manhood. In fact only one of these statements is demonstrably true at the time of writing. But it does raise many other lines of inquiry. What kind of investigation is this exactly? What kind of friends are we talking about here? And what is the chance any sanction for breaching “decent human conduct” (Uefa translation: racism, arguably no; dick gesture, zero tolerance) will be delayed until after the tournament’s second most famous man is safely packed off somewhere else? But from an England point of view Uefa is right in at least one sense. Some kind of investigation is required, and it should definitely centre on Bellingham. To date England’s performances have resembled an extended experiment into the limits of audience discomfort, before dissolving into a frenzied screwball comedy for the final half-hour against Slovakia. As the players spend the week in Blankenheim grooving whatever training process has led to this outcome, it seems increasingly clear that the way the manager has used Bellingham is key both to the current state of confusion, and to the chances of resolving it. During Ronaldo’s time at Juventus it was said that he provided a solution to the problems he created. It would be unfair to apply this to Bellingham. But his use so far by Gareth Southgate is undeniably a factor in the team’s faltering rhythms, the dilution of pre-existing strengths, and the confusion in central midfield. Is there time to fix this, ideally while also keeping those extraordinary moments of grace? It seems clear two weeks in that Southgate came to Germany with a squad he didn’t really understand. There is a case that his biggest problem at this European Championship is he has forgotten he isn’t a very good manager. When he remembers this he becomes a much better one. Instead fate has presented him with Cole Palmer, Trent Alexander‑Arnold and above all Him, Who Else, this endless store of destabilising charisma. At the end of which Southgate has the look of a man who went out after work in his suit, headed on somewhere else, and eventually found himself dancing awkwardly on a podium at a celebrity rave called BMBED and still wondering where to put his briefcase. England’s balance is shot, with too many bodies crowding the same forward positions, too few in the deep controlling spaces. The midfield is a mess, despite having had all those games since Qatar to find a method. It has been surprisingly poor prep for a manager who is all about planning. But Southgate does deserve some sympathy here. The lure of Bellingham is key to this state of dissonance, to the late shift of shape and balance. And Bellingham is undoubtedly a very strange, sui generis footballer at this stage in his career. Bellingham wins games. He looks brilliant while also playing terribly. His performances are uneven. What is his position exactly? He’s not a central midfielder at this level, something Carlo Ancelotti managed by playing him at the front of the team. It has been suggested in Spain Bellingham lacks the stamina to play elite-level central midfield right now. But then, playing central midfield for Real Madrid is a peak career goal. When Luka Modric was 21 he was still at Dinamo Zagreb. OK, so what are Bellingham’s outstanding technical attributes? He has been compared to Zinedine Zidane, but the Frenchman was always the best passer, dribbler and touch-player on any pitch. Currently Bellingham’s superpower seems to be belief, fearlessness, ball-grabbing game-changing arrogance, the power of personality. Which is fine. But how do you channel that into a careful, system-built team? Plus the things Bellingham offers are deceptive. What he gives you is delicious, consumable moments. He gives you the football equivalent of the Maillard reaction, as defined by the French chemist Louis‑Camille Maillard to describe the process in cooking whereby heat is applied to a certain kind of starch, to create crackle, flavour, salt, juice, good stuff. This is what we try to create, what we crave. It is what furiously literal-minded men on the internet with blowtorches and chemistry books have now fixed on as the key basis of cooking. The fashion for the seared, smashed burger patty is basically a Total Maillard overload, all flavour, all crisped surface area. And Bellingham is this modern, moreish thing in football form. He’s Maillard made flesh, always trying to create moments, flavour, the key and decisive ingredient in the dish, and often succeeding. But it has made his performances seem strange at times, that search for flavour a little overwhelming to the rest of the pot. Bellingham produced the best pass of England’s Euro 2024 campaign, the deep through ball to Ollie Watkins against Denmark. He scored a brilliant header and a brilliant overhead kick. For 40 minutes against Serbia he played like Hamlet, Elvis Presley and Paul McCartney playing all the instruments on Let It Be. Make a clipped-up reel of this and you might imagine Bellingham was out there twirling these Euros on his finger. But he is also part of their instability, and in a way that isn’t entirely his fault. First, England are emotionally unbalanced by Bellingham. In some ways this team are quite bland, quite mild, lacking in loud, dominant energy. In this context Bellingham is just an overload of alpha energy. No one else is filling the room like this, or drawing the cameras. Bellingham could probably use some boundaries, some competing energy, someone else to be Big. Instead he seems able to say and do whatever he wants, to go on about learning from Madridismo (the eye-rolling from Catalan journalists at this was a great tournament moment), to make Harry Kane dad-celebrate with him, to do his ball-grabbing stuff then go all over social media explaining it. Here is a 21‑year‑old who could probably do with something to push against. More to the point the team are unbalanced tactically. The transformation of this late England iteration into a Bellingham vehicle is probably the worst thing that could happen to Southgate. Here is a manager who has never really loved midfield, or had great midfielders to work with. He wants stability and balance in there. With, say, prime Jordan Henderson in place, England might be pootling through with their usual efficiency. Instead Southgate has Spider‑Man, the Wolf of Wall Street, an attention supernova. With Bellingham, England’s ceiling is much higher. But they have a more difficult, more tantalising energy to manage. It is too late to change this now. For Southgate the only real option is keep hanging on to the rising balloon, to trust in the Jude‑shaped universe. But it has been handled poorly. The 4-2-3-1 formation came late, with idea of incorporating Bellingham into an area where England are already well covered. The midfield choices behind him have been baffling. Alexander-Arnold, Kobbie Mainoo and Conor Gallagher are totally different players: a statement passer, a calm recycler and a man who appears to be being chased by a tiger. This is guesswork in action. Bellingham has suffered as a result, looked lost like everyone else, but still provided moments of rescue. It is surely time to provide some more substance. With the courage to shift Bellingham deeper, to play 4-3-3, to add another defensive body in midfield, Southgate may even be able to create some genuine structured freedom. All creativity comes from a solid base. Mainoo was England’s best midfielder against Slovakia because he offered control. There needs to be more of this. The current chaotic version has been bad for Southgate’s England. It isn’t great for Bellingham either, who becomes the roaming saviour figure, the moments man, and who is vulnerable to all this, vulnerable to his own power, out there in the brightest of lights, hostage to the way the world will hunger after him. He needs to be protected. At times Bellingham can sound like he has swallowed a high-performance podcast archive, but this is not the same as being genuinely hardened to the pressure of this very new and violent public existence. He remains just as vulnerable as every other prodigy. He needs control, boundaries and in practical terms another deep midfielder to fill those spaces. Less flavour more fibre. This sounds like a healthy recipe for everyone.