THE whistle blows and even the constant hum of the vuvuzelas falls quiet. Gareth Barry begins his slow, painful walk towards the German penalty area.

He picks up the Jabulani ball from the referee and places it carefully on the penalty spot, struggling at first to get the valve facing in quite the right direction.

He glances momentarily at German keeper Manuel Neuer, whose eyes are fixed attentively on his own, then turns towards his expectant team-mates on the halfway line, some of whom can barely stand to watch the events about to unfold.

Fabio Capello stands motionless, his arms folded, knowing the next strike of the ball could determine his success or failure as manager of the country.

Turning on his heels, Barry jogs up to the ball bearing the weight of Stuart Pearce, Chris Waddle, Paul Ince, David Batty, David Beckham, Darius Vassell, Steven Gerrard and Jamie Carragher’s previous failures on his shoulders.

What happens next can exorcise 20 years of torment, or make sure the phrase penalty shootout remains as cursed for an Englishman on a football field as the word Macbeth is for an actor inside a theatre.

Phew! I scared myself there.

But to any football-following native of these Isles, the idea of a penalty shootout settling tomorrow afternoon’s second round game against Germany is enough to have you reaching for the Alka Seltzer.

If the rumours are to be believed, Capello has already settled on the order of players who will be instructed to put their neck on the line in Bloemfontein.

According to Jermain Defoe – apparently the sixth name on that list – practise has been “intense” and David James has been “doing his homework”. Well, it’s nice to see the squad have found something to break the boredom in the team hotel.

But lest we forget, the last time we came across the old enemy in a major tournament we beat them. And in 90 minutes.

We won our last meeting on foreign soil – in Berlin two years ago – and then I think I recall another match in Munich a few years earlier... I forget the scoreline.

So much is made of our opponents’ big game mentality but judging by the mind games emanating from voices within the German camp, I’d suggest they too are suffering from the pre-match jitters.

Franz Beckenbauer has turned from a respected senior figure into a mad old uncle who keeps blurting out naughty words from his chair in the corner of the party, which can’t be going down too well with the coach Joachim Low.

While undoubtedly talented, the current German squad is an incredibly young one. Key players like Mesut Ozil, Thomas Mueller and Jerome Boateng are all under 21.

There are also big doubts over the form of senior figure Per Mertesacker and the fitness of midfield lynchpin Bastian Schweinsteiger.

Aside perhaps from the excellent Phillip Lahm, there are no figures within Low’s squad who scream ‘ich bin eine winner’ in the same way Beckenbauer, Gerd Muller, Lothar Mattahaus, Mattias Sammer or Jurgen Klinsmann did in days gone by.

So does this give me any more confidence going into Sunday afternoon? Well, not entirely.

I’m approaching this match in the same way Barry will approach that penalty, if and when it happens.

I’ve been here so many times before with England. From the moment the knockout stages commence, I am building towards the inevitable moment of failure.

If it goes past 90 minutes, I just can’t see Capello’s men going on to win the game. There is too much emotional baggage.

But then when it comes to predictions in this tournament, I have been thoroughly outclassed by a two-year-old octopus called Paul, who apparently has struck some forecasting form in his tank at the Sea Life centre in Oberhausen in Germany.

My nan always did say gambling was for suckers.