The charge of the heavy brigade ended face down in the dirt, an inch short of where it needed to be. One man up, nine points down, and with 11 minutes to play, England were right up on South Africa’s try-line, so close to the score they needed to grab control of the match. Harry Randall was sure he could get there, he went, one, two, three strides forwards towards the line, and was wrapped up in a tackle. Dan Cole came in after, gathered up the ball and pressed onwards. Cole made it all the way to the line, and no further. The South African tacklers held him there, and pressed his face down into the ground so he could watch the attack unravel behind him.

So the match-winning moment came, and went again, as it often seems to for this England team. It passed them by like a Springbok wing slipping a tackle. Afterwards, of course, they talked about the positives. They always talk about the positives. The effort, the endeavour, the bravery, the willingness to keep going, and going, and going, in the face of all those blows, like a boxer who prides himself on his ability to stay upright after taking punches. But the blunt truth is that this year has left a clear picture of England’s limitations. That’s five straight defeats now, three to New Zealand, one apiece to Australia and South Africa, the last by the widest margin of the lot.

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Steve Borthwick says they are a developing side, but, honestly, the only thing they’re growing is a losing habit. They’re a good team who make too many mistakes, and miss too many chances, to be anything like a great one. They’ve taken on the character of their head coach, who, back in his own international playing days, was always fronting up and often falling short, bloody, broken-nosed, and bamboozled.

They took an ungodly amount of punishment in this match. It was thunderous stuff, games between these two teams always are. They’ll be able to plot this one on the seismographs. In Twickenham, oaks were coming down, in Richmond, pictures were falling from walls, as far away as Acton someone had a vase topple from their mantel. What the hell do they feed these Springbok forwards?

Maro Itoje spent most of this match being tossed around like a raft in the Roaring Forties. Twice in the first half he was blown clean off his feet and carried backwards by the blast of the Springbok tackles. Once he was hit by Ox Nche and Wilco Louw, then again by Siya Kolisi and Pieter-Steph du Toit. By the end of the game, he was being tossed down to the ground like a ragdoll by Cobus Reinach. England’s cunning plan to throw their first line out over the top to Ben Earl ended up with him being utterly steamrollered by Kolisi, who hit him with a tackle that made you hope his mother wasn’t looking.

Jack van Poortvliet spent the entire half trying to escape from the shadow of Eben Etzebeth, who came at him like the barn door falling on Buster Keaton.

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Meanwhile the scrum turned into the sort of enhanced interrogation that usually requires presidential approval, and even then is left open to challenge in the international courts. There were three of them in the first eight minutes. England barely made it through the first, but Van Poortvliet snapped the ball away before they buckled. By the back end of the half South Africa were picking up back-to-back penalties there. It was only when they were forced into making a series of staggered changes to their front row that England managed to gain any kind of parity. There wasn’t an easy inch, or a ready breath, to be had.

They kept at it. But all that punishment started to show. And in the second half England were falling off tackles, and flagging into contact. It didn’t help that their replacements were unable to do anything much to improve them. Luke Cowan-Dickie blew one attacking lineout when he was penalised for making a dummy throw, Randall bungled another when he knocked the ball on gathering it up from down by his feet.

These Springboks are, as Borthwick said, “a very, very good team”. But they’ve lost twice already this year, once to Argentina, when Manie Libbok missed a kick in the final minute, and then to Ireland, when Ciarán Frawley made one. They are beatable. But not by this England team, who, for all their resilience, simply seem to be missing that extra something that makes the difference when the heavy pressure comes down. Borthwick’s a good man, but listening to him talk afterwards, you struggled to believe that he knows what it is, much less where to find it.