In the days when Spitting Image was funny it featured a song called ‘I’ve Never Met A Nice South African’. In fairness it was in 1986, long before the end of apartheid, though the sentiments would have chimed with the feelings of most English sports fans at the weekend. In the end South Africa was the story: pitted against England on the same day, in two different sports, in two World Cups, resulting in two defeats for England – but two very different post-match emotions.

The rugby semi-final felt almost triumphant: okay, so England lost, but what a stirring, intense, physical battle. It was not a game, however, to illustrate the spectacular pleasures of fast-flowing rugby. England kicked away 93 per cent of their possession, and managed to spend something like 73 seconds in the South African 22. It was the sporting equivalent of the Battle of Kursk: vast slow-moving protagonists beating the hell out of each other before, eventually, the favourite emerges as the winner. Just.

Expectations were low, hence the near euphoria as the home nation was on top for all but a couple of minutes (albeit the ones that counted: the final two). England didn’t register one line break, and in six World Cup encounters with South Africa have scored just one try. Maybe a one-point defeat was a blessing: an honourable loss to the Boks after an arm wrestle in the rain is preferable to a complete humiliation in the final by the high-speed, free-running All Blacks.

So what next? There is considerable new talent and flair waiting in the wings with the likes of George Martin, Henry Arundell and Marcus Smith. And there’s an audience too: ITV’s coverage of the England semi-final hit nearly nine million. Meanwhile, bring on the Six Nations.

If there’s one other lesson from this World Cup, it is that our best players should be allowed to play at their preferred clubs. If England’s best XV all play in France, so what? England Rugby surely can’t hold them back by insisting they play for Premiership clubs that might not last the season.  Plus, Ellis Genge and Kyle Sinckler might learn to scrummage properly after a season at Pau or Bayonne.

The humiliation for Jos Buttler’s cricket team felt like the massacre it was. This is more than the last dance for the 50-over side; they should probably never have taken to the floor. The heroic Ben Stokes can do no wrong, but his last-minute decision to make himself available for the World Cup seems to have messed up all the team dynamics. Bring ’em home: economy class, no priority boarding.

It’s a rum old tournament: nine games featuring India and 37 fairly dross matches. A lot of the games so far seem like a festival of plastic seating. Empty grounds always look bad and sad. I’m not sure there’s much of a future for 50-over cricket. A series of meetings are planned to review the future of the format given terrible spectator figures for this tournament – both at the grounds and on TV.

England can’t expect to be good when our best cricketers don’t play it. In December, we’ll go to the West Indies for a few bilateral T20 matches and one-dayers. Who knew? And who cares? Then there’s a five-Test series in India. All-format cricketers like Jonny Bairstow will be looking forward to a lazy couple of months in the Indian Premier League after that.

Little in sport now, of course, can ever touch the great Bobby Charlton whose passing has left a mighty void. No midfielder or striker can ever match him, and he was clearly a wonderful person. Everyone has a Charlton anecdote, so here’s mine. A friend, a fine climber, was hitching back to Manchester from the Alps and found himself just north of London when a fancy car pulled up to offer him a lift. It was Sir Bobby, and he was delightful company all the way home.